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Baby, if you've ever wondered, wondered whatever became of me. I'm livin' on the air in Cincinnati, Cincinnati WKRP. I'm in double Yooo Kaaaay Arrrr Peeee in Cincinnaaaaaatiiiii!!!



Here's the deal, you start by thinking of a TV character (it says sit-com, but you can push the limits a bit). Any old character. Then answer the questions and Poof!!! It guesses who you are.


It guessed me as:
Evie from Out of This World, Mrs. Roper, Henry from Punky Brewster, Venus Flytrap, Whitley from A Different World... the list goes on.

The only characters that I've been able to stump it on are: Wayne from the Wonder Years (Kevin's brother) and any characters from Amen.

Other than that, it's got them all. Fascinating. Really.

http://www.smalltime.com/dictator.html

...and I am looking forward to speaking with you soon, yes?

I just left a voice mail for a client on mine who lives in France. He is from Bellevue, WA originally I think, but has lived overseas for several years. But that's not really important. What I'm writing about today is that this triggered an image in my mind of.... my “Frenchy” look. You know what I’m talking about- the slight build, the pouty jaw, Professor Plum hair cut (from the circa 1980 Clue board game cover), the Bill Cosby-esque sweaters with woven-leather loafers that non-verbally say, “eh, I am from France, yes?” Why do I have this image as being that of a "typical" French person in my head? Perhaps from having a French Teacher for a mother and growing up in a garden of French language text books from the 80's?? But are some of these images simply timeless and actually- true?? ***see pictorial essay #2 below***

But back to the my voice mail (I'm sorry that today's post is kind of... all over the place. Can we just pretend that I'm experimenting with strem of consciousness writing style?)- While I was leaving my message, I was listening to myself in a somewhat out-of-body sort of way, and noticed that I was speaking in my “I am not an American, and trying to mute any/all signs of English being my first language” type of voice. Kind of ending every sentence on up-tone? Making statements into questions?

And I know I tend to do this when actually speaking with someone who is not a native English speaker (some people just speak LOUDER, while I adopt a faux-accent, in manner of Madonna), but I never knew that simply hearing a generic incoming call message (from the Virgin Mo-bile computer-lady with a British accent) could trigger it. Go figure. Is this just style-shifting, or something more? Something deep seeded in me….


Linguists: Your thoughts??


Hoping to return to find this posting avec comments later today. Merci!

BEHOLD!!!! Pictorial Essay #2

Exibit A: The American image of a Frenchman is all wrong, as exemplified for the following American guy trying to look French:


Exhibit B: Observe characteristics of a true Frenchman, actor Philippe Torrenton. Please note, Philippe is not wearing a beret, nor is he in the act of pouring red wine. Additional testament to his Frenchness (besides his whispy hair and forwardly-muscled mouth): What American actor would allow a non-matte finished skin tone in a head-shot?!? I'm just going to let the red leather tunic thing go, as I'm assuming it was part of the roll he was playing?


Exhibit C: Here’s a scary image- some French Star Wars buffs!
Viv la Guerre de Etoiles! (hey, if its spelled wrong, I’m sorry, I’ve never taken a French class before. So any/all French language knowledge that I have or don’t have was passed to me via my umbilical cord in utero)

Free Gas Friday!

“Mix 92.5…. plays the hits… of today?” No, that is not the “phrase that pays” for Seattle’s KLSY 92.5 radio station. But it was the answer that I gave the bright-eyed intern this morning as she was handing me a slip of paper with the number 52 printed on it while I was waiting in line at the Chevron Station on Bellevue Way for free gas.

I was driving to work today on my normal route and was about 3 minutes from my office when I happened to glance over at the Chevron station. I noticed a radio station was setting up some sort of tent, and there were balloons and a table on which someone was stacking boxes of Krispy Crème donuts. So changed to that station, which was not on my pre-set already, and heard the DJ say something to the effect of:

“Producer John is out in the field at a secret, undisclosed location, where he’ll be giving out free gas to loyal listeners all morning long! Stick with us, because in 10 minutes, we’re going to announce his secret location!!”

I knew the secret location. I had less than ¼ tank of gas already in the car. I flipped a bitch.

As I pulled into the gas station, I rolled down my window and yelled “AM I TOO EARLY?!?!” I was immediately shushed by the guy as I realized that he was actually on-air at the time, speaking into a microphone… oops.

So I kept driving into work (I was the duty broker this morning, so I really should have gone right into work), got to the office, grabbed a co-worker, got someone else to cover me on duty, and we took off to head back to the Chevron. At this point, the location was just being announced and some other early birds there were starting a line, so I grabbed a spot in line and waited. Soon enough, a bright-eyed intern (who likely still thinks that handing out bumper stickers and directing traffic at free-gass-give-aways for an adult contemporary radio station is really going to launch a high-powered career in PR some day…) came up and said those fateful words:

“What’s the phrase that pays?!”

Oh damn.

Well, so, see my first lines to get a better idea of how I tried to wing-it. She was nice though, and coached me through it. It took her finally asking me, “Okay, uh, is mix 92-5 your favorite radio station….?”

“Mix 92-5 is my favorite radio station?” I had never actually announced a question before.

This was adequate to receive my #52, a free box of Krispy Crèmes and $25 bucks worth of gas. They even pumped the gas for me!

As I was driving away, I thought, ‘Self, I should put this station as one of my presets, I mean, not 1 or 2 or anything, but maybe a respectable 4?”

And then I thought, “Self, I’ve been listening to this station for about 20 minutes now while waiting in line, and so far I’ve heard MatchBox 20 AND Edwin McCain…. This station blows!”

So, I left my presets as they were, and I am and will continue to be, an ungrateful bastard.

Gateway Hair?

We’ve all heard the term, “gateway drug” right? I learned in DARE class that pot was a gateway drug. On its own, it might not kill you, but it will certainly lead you into the valley of temptation of other, harder drugs.

So when I see a really awful haircut/style, I’ve often wondered: Is there such thing as a gateway hair cut? So people with drastic mullets or asymmetrical hair cuts just all of a sudden go in one day and say, “Make me look like a spaz!” Or is it, and I suspect it is, more of a gradual process.

Behold!! I have created a pictorial essay in support of my thesis:

Outrageous hair does not just happen, it evolves.

My case study is music producer Phil Spector, who has of late, been in the news for being a violent nut-case.

Exhibit A) Some could call this hair style, “outdated,” “Arty,” “Proof that he doesn’t pander to America’s ideal of beauty.” I call it, “Early onset”


Exhibit B) “Eccentric,” “Interesting choice,” “Eegads”…


Exhibit C) “Someone should really talk to his publicist,” “What kind of trial lawyer lets his client go to court like that?” “Maybe he’s trying to work the insanity angle?” “Poor guy…”
I call it, “clearly spiraling into a dreary abyss.”


Exhibit D) *not appropriate for sensitive viewers*
“Fucktard”

You've been a naughty, naughty chair...

http://www.furnitureporn.com

My Top 10 Favorite THINGS... Find out if you're one of them!

Here they are, as of today, in no particular order:

1) Going out for lunch
2) My Bike
3) Daphne
4) Grey’s Anatomy
5) Charlie and Sarah B.
6) 3-minute brown rice from Trader Joe’s
7) Costco
8) Getting real mail from Jose
9) Sleeping in late
10) The anticipation of seeing all my ladies in Napa and having a great time in two weeks!



Speaking of Napa: Any recommendations for must-see wineries? I had someone tell me today that I HAD to hit Sterling and Schramsburg (sp?) but I’m a Napa Newbie so I don’t really know…

I love Paris in the Spring Time?

If you haven’t heard much to-do about the new Carl’s Jr. commercial featuring a leggy Paris Hilton gettin’ down with her bad self while washing a car and play-eating an enormous burger (all while wearing a less-than-modest leather swim suit), you probably will very soon. In fact, here is a link where you can watch it. http://carlsjr.com/home
I have a love hate relationship with this commercial. Much like Jessica Simpson, I don’t hate Paris Hilton because of who she is or what she does. I don’t even know her- how can I judge? If I looked like her and made big bucks by washing a car in my ‘uns while holding on to a big hamburger, I might do it too. Well, probably not, but I can’ say for sure. So I like the way that Carl’s Jr. is so non-apologetic for this commercial, which has been called “pornography” by many. Essentially they’re saying: Hey you- guy on the couch, you want THIS. Freedom of speech and all that. God Bless America.

But heck, we don’t even have Carl’s Jr. in Washington State, so we don’t have this showing on our TV’s. What I’m saying is: even if I had a kid, I wouldn’t have to worry about it seeing this ad. So, maybe my perspective is less affected.

I do think the ad is sleazy and trashy, but heck- a lot of things on TV are just that. What I really hate about this ad is that its stuff like this that give the religious right, red-state, Bible-thumping, “if you vote blue you hate freedom and God” types even more ammunition. More stuff to whine about.
“America is going to hell in a hand basket!!”
“Where are our morals and values?!?”
“Liberal yay-hoos are the root of all evil!”

These are the thoughts that have been so cleverly marketed into the thoughts and minds of middle Amer’ca to lead people into acts of desperation. And yes, I do mean “vote for Bush again” when I write “acts of desperation.”

Don’t get me wrong, I have no problem with true Republicans (which I’m sure if both an offense and a disappointment to some in my family). Bring on the blue-blooded, money-loving capitalist who is intelligent and constructive. I like people who are down with personal accountability and who believe that all men really aren’t created equal. I don’t always agree with that perspective, but I appreciate it.

What I can’t deal with are all of those other people out there who are just compete ass-clowns. And to them I say this:

You voted for Dub’ya again and STILL this smut is on TV!!!
SUCKERS!!!!!!


And just for the record: I voted for Kerry. I also happen to love freedom and God.

I'll blog it I want to blog... Gosh!

I went white water rafting this weekend outside of Leavenworth. We camped on Friday night and rafted on Saturday. Camping in May? But it's still so cold, you say? Yes. Cold. Burrrr... Even colder when you get a tall drink of water in the form of big ass currents thwacking you in the face and running down the neck of your wet suit... Ummm, ice water down your shirt! I pretty much decided that if I had balls, they would have been hiding up in my body cavity clinging for warmth all weekend. But it was fun. And on Saturday morning, I got to facilitate the creation of the one food item that has brought friends and family together through the years around the camp fire. The S'more? NO!!! The Dough Boy!!! Yes, that tasty yet elusive creation that is the sum of... a piece of Pillsbury biscuit dough wrapped around a stick that you find in the woods. The primary determinants of success being glowing embers, dough depth consistence and most importantly, patience!! Without patience, what you have a lump of raw dough coated in carbon. On my first visit back to the Dough Boy arena since a 15 year hiatus there was some slight charring, but soon enough, I was back to my golden brown ways. The trick, if you're interested, is to use half a busicuit's worth of dough. They make them bigger than they used to. Aieet, Grey's Anatomy is on so that's all the blogety goodness that I've got for now.

10 things I have never done:

On request of Lisaopolis, here are 10 things I have never done. In no particular order:

1) Been in a tanning bed
2) Seen all of the Starwars Movies (or any of the new ones)
3) Competed in a race
4) Been to south America (central, yes- south no.)
5) Gone on a cruise (will be able to check this off in a month)
6) Appreciated Bob Dylan music
7) Tasted a drink made with gin and thought, "yum!"
8) Used a beer bong
9) Lived overseas
10) Had a cavity

You're Fired!

I never thought I'd say this, but God I wish Daphne had longer hair...

So THAT'S why he's such an astute operator of my dials and switches...

Who'da thought? Of all the jets in all the military, apparently I embody the "human element" of the jets that Jose flies.

What military aircraft are you? EA-6B Prowler You are an EA-6B. You are sinister, preferring not to get into confrontations, but extract revenge through mind games and technological interference. You also love to make noise and couldn't care less about pollution.

And I ask, was the helmet really necessary?

Who knows, it probably was, but I thought it made for a great photo op too. And the color sceme goes nicely with the "desert sands" suit from Talbot's.

Go Condi, Go! She kind of reminds me of Napoleon in this one (Bonaparte, not Dynamite)



Condi the Diplomat:

I just want to be held?

Maybe its hormones? Maybe it’s that I haven’t really had any skin to skin contact with another human being in 4 months? All I know is that if you have a heartbeat, and you came within my field of vision yesterday, chances are, I was thinking about snuggling with you. And I might still be thinking about it today.

But today the cuddle-cravings are coming in waves. These aren’t, “I want to get it on” cravings. These are more…. “can we just spoon in a totally platonic way?” sort of cravings. Friends, family, pets, co-workers: I just want to hug the world, and this is odd, cause I’m generally not a high-touch kind of person. I loathe excessive/premature huggers. You know who I’m talking about. That friend-of-a-friend who you meet for the very first time in a group, and then when you’re all saying good bye, they hug you too? Those people make me uncomfortable, but now I feel sorry for them: do they constantly feel the way I feel right now? If so, someone should really start an endowment fund for those poor bastards. I would, but all my money is tied up at the moment. Until one of my FOUR open bike/car related insurance claims pays up, I’m holding-on tightly to every penny.

On a side note, if my MBNA Mastercard actually offers to pay up on my bike, since it was covered under the 90-day purchase protection against theft/damage, I fully intent to both write them a glorious thank-you note AND post raving reviews of their company on this here blog…

But back to my issue: I’m just having a sentimental, “everyone is so precious” wave. Like yesterday, Justin bought me coffee after hearing about my shitty bike experience. That’s just NICE. I like it when people do nice things. I appreciated that. Little things rock.

The insurance lady at USAA was also just plain lovely. In a realistic, I’m-not-blowing-smoke-up-your-ass type of way. Joe gave me the perfect idea for a dessert that would drive little-old-ladies wild. It worked like a charm. Joe is omniscient. He knows all and is very wise.

Another side note: I hope Justin's wife and Joe's wife appreciate the hell out of their husbands.

Anyway... I got to talk to my pink friend Sue (she’s not a communist, she just loves the color pink) and the rest of the Overlake Panhellenic ladies, and they’re all just charming. I got home and there was a letter from Jose in my mail box. It smelled like him. He wrote things like, “I feel really good about our last phone call, It made me feel closer to you.” I was flooded with a heroin-like feeling of “everything’s going to be ohhhkaaaayyy.” No, I've never done heroin! I just would assume it makes you feel really warm and fuzzy inside. Then the guy at the REI bike shop wrote “Fell off bike rack” on the work order request (for my “post-crash” inspection and tune-up). He could have more accurately written: “Jack-ass owner drove bike into building” but he didn’t. He had tact. Later I had a glass of wine with Allison, and we had lovely conversation: she’s lovely. It sounds weird, but I’m really proud of her. I think she has really come into her own over the last year. Not that she was weak before, but I just see her as “stronger” lately. I woke up this morning I got the best e-mail from Jose, of which I will spare you the details. But it made me want to hug him. But wait- don't I want to hug everybody!?

According to Who?

So this internet survey says I'm 35% normal. Not sure if this is a good thing or a bad thing. What- cause I don't use a new towell everyday? Do normal people do this? I usually throw a towell in the wash everytime I do laundry- which is about every 2 or 3 days. I guess this makes me freakish- along with other odd things that I do, like carry very little cash in my wallet at any given time, or like to have sex more than 6 times a month? WTF?

Is anyone out there more normal than me? Or is 35% well, normal?

You Are 35% Normal (Occasionally Normal)

You sure do march to your own beat... But you're so weird, people wonder if it's a beat at all You think on a totally different wavelength And it's often a chore to get people to understand you

How Normal Are You?

"crunch"

Here's a pictoral essay on my reaction to that first feeling of "holy cheeses!" when I first heard that nasty sound of my bike and car getting torn apart:

Ever get the feeling that

YOU'RE the stupidest person you know? I had that feeling today.

Yeah. I did. About an hour ago. So I FINALLY got my new bike on Sunday. Haven't posted about it cause I've been too busy loving it. A Cannondale r500. Nice bike. Certainly not top of the line as far as Cannondales, but not a bike that I'm going to outgrow anytime soon. I rode it on Monday. Flippin' awsome. I took her out for a ride tonight too.

PS- I got a thule rack for my car so I can drive to trails, as this isn't a ride around town type of bike- its a get on and ride fast for miles kind of bike. Great bike rack that fits on top of my car. The bike stands upright.

So I go for a quick ride- just about a half an hour over the I-90 bride from Seattle to Mercer Island and back, not a long ride, but it was getting late and I still had to go to the grocery store etc. So I finish, throw the bike up on the rack, go get some groceries, and come home. I drove right on in to my garage to park, just like I always do.

Only this time there was a $1200 worth of road bike and bike rack securely afixed on top of my fucking car. So, not only have a screwed up my new bike (hopefully no major frame damage, but the brakes are messed up, and some of the gear components are likely a little bent out of shape...), but I ripped the factory cross bars off my subaru, snapped the Thule rack in half, which put a gouge in the top of my car AND put a big dent into the garage door gear box of my apartment building. When things this shitty happen, its nice to be able to blame someone else. So I hate the fact that I am 100% responsible for all of it. So I ask: WTF??!?!


Its hard not to laugh at the udder retardedness of my actions, and I know I'll be able to at some point in the future. But I'm so mad at myself!!!

I need a hug. I need the Irony Gods to stop messing with me. I need to know that everything is going to be ooookkaaaaayyy...

Beaver Liquor

Oh Sweet Jesus. Life is funny when you work with all boys (yes, they are men, but we can call them boys.)

7AM: Ken walks over with a classic Ken-ism: "I just bought to coolest bond ever."

Gina: Huh?

Ken: I just bought a Beaver County Bond for a client. Awsome!

So yes children, there IS a beaver County. And wouldn't you know what state it's in (nope, not Oregon)? I'd venture to say: One of the most Interesting states of our nation, yes, PA!! This starts the topic rolling (and establishes that our minds are all in the gutter-all before 7:30 AM)

Jim: (Chiming in) "There is a town in Colorado called Avon, on Beaver Creek- their liquor store is called Beaver Liquor. And you can get hats there that say "Beaver Liquor"~~

All: Sweet! No way! WAY!

So I run a google search (yeah, cause its cool to have THAT on your work computer's internet history...)

Long story short- I find the phone number, but no web site right away. So I call. Ring... ring...

"Good morning, Beaver Liquors- This is Michelle!"

me: Hi, do you have a web site?

Michelle: Yes! Its w-w-w dot beaver liquors dot com. Thats l-i-Q-u.

Me: Great- thanks.

And then I could start my day, know that I had already sacrificed at least 30% of my active brain cells- before 7:45AM.

That is all I'm going to post today. And yes, you CAN get hats. AND T-shirts. Real classy ones.

On request, here is a photo of Darling Ken. Its been said (by at least one successful 50-something lady doctor) that he is, in fact, a Beautiful Person. I have to say, I concur with the middle-aged women on this one.

This is from a post-game strategy session during last year's kickball season.

Separation of Work and Life

I just woke up at around 10:30 AM. Its a great Saturday morning. Today on the list of chores; Got to Bartell Drugs and pick up a prescription refill (yes, I medicate), go to Office Max (or Depot- I don't know...) and pick up the cheapest version of Microsoft Word I can find. Alas, until now, I have been able to pull off not having it. Using the ghetto, old-school version of "Microsoft Works" whenever I need a word processor or spreadsheet. Since I really only use my laptop for personal stuff, which is essentially: checking me e-mail, this has never been an issue. But now I learn that the one feature that I need right now in a work processor doesn't exist in Works: password protection. Now really, how is a girl supposed to send inappropriate e-mails to her boyfriend via his on-ship's e-mail address without sending an attached Word document that is protected with a password that only he knows??? GuhDuh!?!?! I mean, I thought MY employer was bad at being Big Brother with E-mails?? That whole "national security" thing behind the US Navy makes their e-mail compliance people even more Top-Notch than ours! Whatever...

Ohmugawd!! I just made a paragraph!! I don't know what is different about today, but now when I hit "enter" it actually works!!

Okay- so back to my point: I need to get MS Office, as 1) I need password protection for less-than-classy correspondence with darling Life Partner and 2)It would seem as if my laptop might be used in my work life after all!! The horror!! I know?!? I got FIVE, count'em, FIVE e-mail between midnight and 10AM from two guys at work, whith whom I'm working on some new team projects. Clearly they're very excited about these new plans, and apparently can't sleep cause they're up thinking about our team all night. So these e-mails? They all brainstormy and idea generating essays. Pardon me for having lost my rookie enthusiasm, but lets bring some accounts in the door, and THEN I'll stay up at night, giddy as a school girl with new ideas about how we're going to take over the world. Why do I have to be so flippin' practical?? My first boyfriend that I had in high school made up a song that he would sing to me when I got all "devil's advocate" on his ass: it was called "Practical Gina." Come t think about it, those were the only words too- just spoke over and over, with a melody. I hate to be the Negative Nellie of life, but I guess my requirements for attaining a certain level of uncontrollable optimism are... Pretty high. Show me the money!!!!
The fun thing is though: when I DO get excited about a project, idea etc?? I'm ALL IN.

So- am I going to let this new project at work interfere with my life this weekend? Heck no! I am excited about the sale at REI- all bikes are 20% off, so this may finally be the time for me to buy!!! And then start riding an actual bike rather than the ones at the gym that don't seem to get me anywhere.... The only sad thing is that with MS Word, a new road bike (complete with a helmet, pedals, shoes etc) could mean Gina drops over 1500 bucks in one day. Now, I realize that Lindsey Lohan can drop that ten fold in one shopping spree, but this to me, is a lot of sweet moola.

So alas, I must rise and shine, take care of the little errands so that I can go bike shopping!!!

My sexy bitches

Lisa is so jealous that I know how to post photos.... Ah, but I covet her ability to make paragraphs in her blog. Ewwwww!!! I have some VH1 celebrity program, and they just flashed on Tanya Harding. Talking about her and her husband putting some sex tape out on the web back in the day? The world doesn't need that. And it didn't/doesn't need her bangs either. But the world does need more Sexy Bitches, and here are my two: and.... the Coonhound:

Cinco de Wino

It's official: I've discovered my perfect portion of alcohol for a school night gathering with friends. Half a bottle of white wine. Last night Lindsey and I shared the bottle of wine that we designated as "the" bottle we were to share. You see, I broke one of bottles that she bought when we went wine tasting a few months ago and gave her one of mine to replace it. She offered to make this bottle of wine, "OUR" bottle of wine. Being that it is the one bottle of Chardonnay that I've ever tasted that doesn't taste like complete ASS (Pend d'Oreille Winery's Idaho Chardonnay), I was thankful for her generosity. While I'm at it, why don't I post a photo from the wine tasting day here?? We'll see if that works... Still so new to the blogging world. Anyway- the half bottle of wine was glorious. I was wan't drunk, but carefree. The kind of kind of tipsy that makes you say things like, "Why not!?" This may have got me into a little spell of trouble, as I think I may have promised to send Jose some PG-13 photos of myself... Dangit! I hate it when my mouth writes checks that my ass can't cash... Somewhat literally in this case. Well look at the bright side: At least it wasn't a whole bottle, which could have gotten me to the Dr. Laura stage. Yikes!

Blog Virgin

What's up my party people?!?! So I talk a lot. I admit: I'm the kind of person who has to answer every yes or no question with a story. That that story usually reminds me of the time that I was.... yeah. You know me. You get the point. I have a hard time getting to the point :) So instead of posting replies to other peoples blogs (namely Lisa's: www.fretme.blogspot.com) I thought I'd start my own? Heck, I went to the open casting call for the Martha Steward Apprentice becuase 1) I think she kicks ass 2) I wanted to do something that is so "generation Why" that I couldn't say no. A blog is something that well look back on in 5-10 years and say, "wow, a blog? That is soooooo 2005." Much in the same way I say that floppy drives are sooooo 1995. Um yeah... so if anyone could tell me how to make paragraphs on this thing, that'd be super.