Huh. I just discovered that Regis Philbin has a Christmas album. I've been listening to pandora.com all day today (note to self, get some headphones that don't leave ears burning in pain after a few hours. Ouch!)and got a good Christmas music station going when typing in "Christmas Island". Lots of good old timey Christmas songs (Johnny Mathis, Breda Lee etc), and then out of the blue, 'White Christmas' by Regis Philbin.
And for some weird reason, I didn't give it a thumbs down to make it go away. Is it that I'm mentally conditioned to enjoy only the cheesiest of cheesy Christmas music?
It was followed by the Carpenters (frighteningly endearing)Winter Wonderland/Silver Bells/White Christmas medley, which totally redeemed pandora.com... in my opinion at least.
So. Happy Holidays everyone. What's on your Christmas list?
"A pony" is making its 28th repeat appearance on the top of my list.
Wednesday, November 29, 2006
Monday, November 20, 2006
Palomino.
One of the funniest SNL sketches I've seen in a while. I like this "new" gal- I think she's been in the cast for a year or so, but I haven't been keeping track.
Tuesday, November 14, 2006
Go Cougs!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
It's officially time to start smack talk with any and all fans of the University of Washington, as this Saturday is not just Cougar Football Saturday, but THE APPLE CUP!!
Let the jokes begin!! I'll start with this one, which I found on a delightful little spot on the world wide web called... HuskiesSuck.com.
It's the night before the Husky season opener and the Husky coach gets a call from UW's sole math professor. He tells the coach that his quarterback is academically inelgible because, shockingly enough, he missed his math final from summer session.
In true Husky fashion, the coach asks for a bending of the rules and like a usual UW professor, he agrees and they decide on a one question, all or nothing math final at the 50 yard line in Husky Stadium on Opening Day.
So there's the quarterback at midfield, the entire stadium becomes dead silent, and over the PA system, the math professor shouts "Okay, what is 2 + 3?"
The quarterback furrows his brow, sweat drips down his rather large forehead and he racks his brain with all his might before letting out a hoarse "5?".
The entire stadium erupts in a huge roar with every husky fan jumping up and down screaming "Give Him another Chance!! Give Him another Chance!!"
Good stuff.
Let the jokes begin!! I'll start with this one, which I found on a delightful little spot on the world wide web called... HuskiesSuck.com.
It's the night before the Husky season opener and the Husky coach gets a call from UW's sole math professor. He tells the coach that his quarterback is academically inelgible because, shockingly enough, he missed his math final from summer session.
In true Husky fashion, the coach asks for a bending of the rules and like a usual UW professor, he agrees and they decide on a one question, all or nothing math final at the 50 yard line in Husky Stadium on Opening Day.
So there's the quarterback at midfield, the entire stadium becomes dead silent, and over the PA system, the math professor shouts "Okay, what is 2 + 3?"
The quarterback furrows his brow, sweat drips down his rather large forehead and he racks his brain with all his might before letting out a hoarse "5?".
The entire stadium erupts in a huge roar with every husky fan jumping up and down screaming "Give Him another Chance!! Give Him another Chance!!"
Good stuff.
Wednesday, November 08, 2006
Nobody pinch me.
Maybe I'm just dreaming, but I can't decide if the primary cause of my big dumb smile is either:
1) the latest Tony Bennett Duets CD that I finally bought today, and his version of Lullaby of Broadway with the Dixie Chicks, in which the girls sound a lot like the Andrew's Sisters. (Very smile-worthy)
or
2) Rumsfelt just resigned.
1) the latest Tony Bennett Duets CD that I finally bought today, and his version of Lullaby of Broadway with the Dixie Chicks, in which the girls sound a lot like the Andrew's Sisters. (Very smile-worthy)
or
2) Rumsfelt just resigned.
George W. Bush, KFed awaken to joint stark realities.
Okay, all I've got this morning is that million dollar headline.
My #2 choice was "KFed, Republicans shown the door"
But I should mention that living in DC in a time like this is, to say the least, pretty neat.
(oh yes, and Daphne has not conceded any races yet. She's holding out for recounts.)
My challenge to you all: Send me your catchy headlines that shed light on both politics and KFed.
My #2 choice was "KFed, Republicans shown the door"
But I should mention that living in DC in a time like this is, to say the least, pretty neat.
(oh yes, and Daphne has not conceded any races yet. She's holding out for recounts.)
My challenge to you all: Send me your catchy headlines that shed light on both politics and KFed.
Monday, November 06, 2006
Daphne, have you been campaigning or what?
11/6/06 6:15 PM, Washington DC, Corner of 10th and N Street NW. I'm walking Daphne.
Guy I've never Seen Before Walking Past Me on the Sidewalk(GINSBWPMS): "Wait- is that...Daphne?"
Me (out loud): Uh...yeah?
Me (In my head): what the Hell?
GINSBWPMS: Yeah! I thought so. You take her to Wagtime?
Me (out loud): Um... yeah?
Me (in my head): seriously... what's going on here.... How does this guy know the dog day care I take her to?
GINSBWPMS: (sensing that I'm starting to think he's a stalker) Oh- I worked there for a few months, she's a cool dog.
Me: Ah! Okay- yeah, well- thanks!
And so, on this election eve, I have once again been faced with the reality that Daphne, as an institution, is just about as recognizable as the Golden Arches and the Elvis. So I officially announce that she will be using this to her advantage, and is throwing her hat in the ring for Mayor of DC. So go ahead DC, write in Daphne for Mayor 2006.
I honestly think she's has just as much of a chance as anyone at beating Adrian Fenty, so why not?
Guy I've never Seen Before Walking Past Me on the Sidewalk(GINSBWPMS): "Wait- is that...Daphne?"
Me (out loud): Uh...yeah?
Me (In my head): what the Hell?
GINSBWPMS: Yeah! I thought so. You take her to Wagtime?
Me (out loud): Um... yeah?
Me (in my head): seriously... what's going on here.... How does this guy know the dog day care I take her to?
GINSBWPMS: (sensing that I'm starting to think he's a stalker) Oh- I worked there for a few months, she's a cool dog.
Me: Ah! Okay- yeah, well- thanks!
And so, on this election eve, I have once again been faced with the reality that Daphne, as an institution, is just about as recognizable as the Golden Arches and the Elvis. So I officially announce that she will be using this to her advantage, and is throwing her hat in the ring for Mayor of DC. So go ahead DC, write in Daphne for Mayor 2006.
I honestly think she's has just as much of a chance as anyone at beating Adrian Fenty, so why not?
Forget a meat grinder, I need a silencer attachment for my Kitchenaid Mixer...
I went candle shopping for J on Saturday morning, as he has requested that I send him some Christmas Tree scented candles since he'll still be "beyond" the tree line for the holidays this year.
"And I want really good ones. None of the cheap candles. You know what I'm talking about..."
That was his request, worded in a way to admonish me for my purchase of generic mouth wash last month. I brought some on the trip, and he was less than pleased with it. In my defense, I'm not a complete cheapskate, I just figured I'd try the generic brand first. If it was, in fact just like Scope only cheaper, why pay more? Alas, it was not just like Scope. Live and learn... But come on, wouldn't most men appreciate having a wife that doesn't put value in brand names unless deserved??
ANYway... I bought him the "Mistletoe" scented candle from Yankee Candles. They're among the most expensive I could find, so I figured he would be able to more clearly see my love and devotion that was poured into the wax (and so obviously devoid from the mouthwash). And I have to admit, the candle smelled good- actually smelled more like a real tree than an air freshener, which was surprising.
While quite literally "sniffing around" in the candle isle (sorry, couldn't resist), I found one called "Buttercream" with a piece of frosted cake on the label. I sniffed. Yum. Cake batter and vanilla frosting. And none of that homemade shortening and powdered sugar kind. This smelled like the fabulous stuff I can eat by the spoonful from out of the tub by Duncan Hines and Betty Crocker. So I bought a small "Buttercream" candle for myself, thinking it might create and inviting and "homey" feel in my apartment.
I brought it home, lit it and left it burning all day and went about my business. About 8 hours later, I realized that I was having the biggest craving for CAKE I'd ever had in my living years.
But what's a girl to do when she lives along and has a hankering for cake? And not just any cake. Going to a restaurant and buying a piece of fancy delicious cake from the menu would not answer this calling. This candle had a distinct aroma of homemade cake, from a mix. With Betty Crocker frosting.
I tried all afternoon, and into the early evening to resist these overwhelming urges. Really, I tried. Until about 10PM last night when I made a break and skipped off to the nearest grocery store for cake mix and tub of frosting. But clearly I wasn't being irrational and going to the store as the first steps toward baking a middle-of-the-night-cake, as that only happens when one drives to the store. And I walked.
Damn Yankees.
PS- This might be the beginning of a fun challenge- to try to end each post with a word or phrase that not only captures the essence of the post, but is also the name of an 80's hair and/or power ballad band.... me likey.
"And I want really good ones. None of the cheap candles. You know what I'm talking about..."
That was his request, worded in a way to admonish me for my purchase of generic mouth wash last month. I brought some on the trip, and he was less than pleased with it. In my defense, I'm not a complete cheapskate, I just figured I'd try the generic brand first. If it was, in fact just like Scope only cheaper, why pay more? Alas, it was not just like Scope. Live and learn... But come on, wouldn't most men appreciate having a wife that doesn't put value in brand names unless deserved??
ANYway... I bought him the "Mistletoe" scented candle from Yankee Candles. They're among the most expensive I could find, so I figured he would be able to more clearly see my love and devotion that was poured into the wax (and so obviously devoid from the mouthwash). And I have to admit, the candle smelled good- actually smelled more like a real tree than an air freshener, which was surprising.
While quite literally "sniffing around" in the candle isle (sorry, couldn't resist), I found one called "Buttercream" with a piece of frosted cake on the label. I sniffed. Yum. Cake batter and vanilla frosting. And none of that homemade shortening and powdered sugar kind. This smelled like the fabulous stuff I can eat by the spoonful from out of the tub by Duncan Hines and Betty Crocker. So I bought a small "Buttercream" candle for myself, thinking it might create and inviting and "homey" feel in my apartment.
I brought it home, lit it and left it burning all day and went about my business. About 8 hours later, I realized that I was having the biggest craving for CAKE I'd ever had in my living years.
But what's a girl to do when she lives along and has a hankering for cake? And not just any cake. Going to a restaurant and buying a piece of fancy delicious cake from the menu would not answer this calling. This candle had a distinct aroma of homemade cake, from a mix. With Betty Crocker frosting.
I tried all afternoon, and into the early evening to resist these overwhelming urges. Really, I tried. Until about 10PM last night when I made a break and skipped off to the nearest grocery store for cake mix and tub of frosting. But clearly I wasn't being irrational and going to the store as the first steps toward baking a middle-of-the-night-cake, as that only happens when one drives to the store. And I walked.
Damn Yankees.
PS- This might be the beginning of a fun challenge- to try to end each post with a word or phrase that not only captures the essence of the post, but is also the name of an 80's hair and/or power ballad band.... me likey.
Saturday, November 04, 2006
Question del dia
Why is it that 9 out of 10 people who display t-shirts or bumber stickers that say "Stop bitching and start a revolution" do a lot of bitching and very little revolutionizing?
Discuss.
Discuss.
Wednesday, November 01, 2006
España! .... now what's the html for the upside down exclamation point??
On advice from newly aunted Amy B, to “work less, blog more,” I have been looking for a moment to make a quick post to say hello and… “I’m baaaaack…” (read in a creapy horror movie voice).
In three words, Spain was great, and I’d love to write an essay about my fabulous fall vay-cay, but in the efforts of sparing my fingers so that I can reply (AKA: hit delete) to the massive amounts of e-mails that are still lingering in my inbox, I’ll resort to a bulleted list of trip highlights:
And now I’m back to real life, and trying to catch up with everything else…including reading my voters guide. I’ve accepted that my bank ofsocial capital in DC is a barren wasteland, as I can’t recite every states senator and representatives (worse yet, I don’t know who’s secretly creepy –a la the early Foley years- or who is probably gay!), but I figure at least I can attempt to show up at the polls with some sort of recognition of who is on the ballot, and how much I like the sound of their names…
But in my defense man, I know some things about music... and I knew about Windows Vista YEARS ago, when it was still in beta!! Okay, maybe that’s just because Ken and I would routinely crash the “Fun Friday’s” at the PR firm officed on the next floor in my old office building. And okay, maybe our cover was that we were from “the Portland Office, on Kathy’s team. We’ve been swamped with the Vista beta… Hey- is that Doug over there- I’ve got to catch him…” But hey- they had free beer. At work! Yeah, that’s right kids, in Seattle, I was cool. I had social net worth…I wasn’t just some lonely dietitian Navy wife who works at a library… Ah, the good old days.
Which reminds me: I was at the Wonderland Bar one night having a beer with Laura before I left on my trip, and this couple (who looked like they both tried REAL hard to look like a cast member of “Reality Bites”) was sitting next to me on their picnic style tables. And I seriously overheard things like, “Man, that would be so awesome… cause Microsoft is still like, innovative. And to work for them before they turn corporate would be amazing… I wonder if they like, hire people? What would be cool would be to like, work for them as a contractor, or a temp or something. Do they do that? That would be cool. I think it would be cool to work for like, Amazon too…”
I nearly spat out my beer. But I bet they knew gobs about all sorts of bills and pending acts… sigh.
Okay, I’m off to read Wonkette in a desperate attempt to figure out what the hell is going on in this town. But yeah, by the time I’m reading it, it’s likely already jumped the shark.
In three words, Spain was great, and I’d love to write an essay about my fabulous fall vay-cay, but in the efforts of sparing my fingers so that I can reply (AKA: hit delete) to the massive amounts of e-mails that are still lingering in my inbox, I’ll resort to a bulleted list of trip highlights:
- Getting to the Madrid airport within an hour of J’s arrival. Which, given the amount of potential chaos in coordinating our travels, was a small miracle.
- Having my purse stolen while checking out of our Madrid hotel the next morning, bound for La Coruña. Yes, my phone, camera and passport were in there. In addition to my sweet $5 aviator gafas del sol (sun glasses!) from Eastern Market... More of a low-light really…
- Learning all about filing police reports and finding the US Embassy in foreign countries. The embassy was a bit of a let down, I was hoping the experience would be akin to that scene in Not Without My Daughter where Sally Field finally catches a glimpse of the American flag, but in reality, it was a lot like going to the DMV...
- Arriving in La Coruña and finally meeting my mother-in-law for the first time.
- Having quality family time with my new family- it’s just like quality time with my own family, except with this one, I can relax and enjoy the ride of their craziness rather than get too sucked into it. An excellent concept really, and for the naïve life of me, I can’t see how in-laws have a universal bad rap.
- Realizing that I have the cutest nephews on the planet, and they are highly entertaining. I heart them.
- Getting to smell my husband, which God-willing, is enough to tide me over for another 6 months.
- Taking several day trips around Galicia. A chance to connect to my Celtic roots... (yes, the Celtic people stomped around much of this part of Spain. And you thought the Irish had the monopoly on the Galic people… Eh, that’s okay, so did I.)
- Learning that mullets have come back, in a big way in Spain (and I’m guessing most of Europe). Again, more of a low-light. See for yourself. I was standing as a decoy- the real subject of this photo is the mulleted Spaniard behind me…
- Putting faces to names of some of the people in Spain on our wedding announcement list… then realizing that we’ll need to send some sort of Spanish translation of said-announcement….
- Coming face to face with some scary foods. Some I could deal with, some I could not. Such as…
- Missing my flight home from Madrid after being stuck in traffic for three hours. It ended up being a bonus night of vacation, as J wasn’t to leave until the next morning anyway. However, not knowing if I would or wouldn’t get on the next day’s flight on stand-by left me a bit nervy (in light of the fact that J would soon be on a flight to Kuwait, and I had only a temporary passport, a MasterCard, 20 Euros and the language skills/vocabulary of a 3 year old, and the American Airlines gal in Madrid said the soonest flight with seats available was November 7th. “What? That’ won’t work for you? Okay, I have something on November 11th?”).
- Coming home to find that the wedding announcements had arrived from the printer. Then asking myself “why the hell did I think it would be a good idea to hand mount 275 of these sonsubitches onto not one, but two panels of (beautiful espresso brown and Tiffany blue) cardstock??? And why does my mothers Big Sister from her Sorority (actually named Dixie- no joke) who I have, until now in my life NEVER HEARD OF, merit reviewing one of these hand-adorned crafts?
- Getting to miss out on nearly three weeks of Virginia Senate race campaigning. Came home to find that George Allan has done what I thought was impossible: made himself look like a bigger spaz in the public eye than he did at the beginning of the month. Ha!
And now I’m back to real life, and trying to catch up with everything else…including reading my voters guide. I’ve accepted that my bank ofsocial capital in DC is a barren wasteland, as I can’t recite every states senator and representatives (worse yet, I don’t know who’s secretly creepy –a la the early Foley years- or who is probably gay!), but I figure at least I can attempt to show up at the polls with some sort of recognition of who is on the ballot, and how much I like the sound of their names…
But in my defense man, I know some things about music... and I knew about Windows Vista YEARS ago, when it was still in beta!! Okay, maybe that’s just because Ken and I would routinely crash the “Fun Friday’s” at the PR firm officed on the next floor in my old office building. And okay, maybe our cover was that we were from “the Portland Office, on Kathy’s team. We’ve been swamped with the Vista beta… Hey- is that Doug over there- I’ve got to catch him…” But hey- they had free beer. At work! Yeah, that’s right kids, in Seattle, I was cool. I had social net worth…I wasn’t just some lonely dietitian Navy wife who works at a library… Ah, the good old days.
Which reminds me: I was at the Wonderland Bar one night having a beer with Laura before I left on my trip, and this couple (who looked like they both tried REAL hard to look like a cast member of “Reality Bites”) was sitting next to me on their picnic style tables. And I seriously overheard things like, “Man, that would be so awesome… cause Microsoft is still like, innovative. And to work for them before they turn corporate would be amazing… I wonder if they like, hire people? What would be cool would be to like, work for them as a contractor, or a temp or something. Do they do that? That would be cool. I think it would be cool to work for like, Amazon too…”
I nearly spat out my beer. But I bet they knew gobs about all sorts of bills and pending acts… sigh.
Okay, I’m off to read Wonkette in a desperate attempt to figure out what the hell is going on in this town. But yeah, by the time I’m reading it, it’s likely already jumped the shark.
Tuesday, October 03, 2006
A call for good vibes...
for on-time flights and reasonable connections...
I'm T minus 6 days for my flight to Spain to meet up with J for our 15 day R&R/vacation/see each other for the first time in 6 months. He is taking a helicopter from where he is now to some other base in Iraq, then a military flight to Kuwait. From there, another military flight to Frankfurt, and from Frankfurt he'll fly commercial to Madrid. Or something like that.
In other words, there are SOOOO many opportunities for a mess-up somewhere in his itinerary. So if you could all send me some smooth sailing vibes, cast any spells for happy traveling or otherwise channel your good ju-ju and sent it our way, I'd really appreciate it.
As while I'm sure I'd love a solo trip Madrid SOME day to explore the city and soak up the culture of Espana all by my lonesome, that time is not now. If I end up spending this entire trip by myself because of some Military Powers That Be, I will probably have to promptly moon the White House upon my return (while wearing my tacky yet poignant "sexually deprived for your freedom" t-shirt). And that might get me arrested.
I'm T minus 6 days for my flight to Spain to meet up with J for our 15 day R&R/vacation/see each other for the first time in 6 months. He is taking a helicopter from where he is now to some other base in Iraq, then a military flight to Kuwait. From there, another military flight to Frankfurt, and from Frankfurt he'll fly commercial to Madrid. Or something like that.
In other words, there are SOOOO many opportunities for a mess-up somewhere in his itinerary. So if you could all send me some smooth sailing vibes, cast any spells for happy traveling or otherwise channel your good ju-ju and sent it our way, I'd really appreciate it.
As while I'm sure I'd love a solo trip Madrid SOME day to explore the city and soak up the culture of Espana all by my lonesome, that time is not now. If I end up spending this entire trip by myself because of some Military Powers That Be, I will probably have to promptly moon the White House upon my return (while wearing my tacky yet poignant "sexually deprived for your freedom" t-shirt). And that might get me arrested.
Thursday, September 21, 2006
Just a little space to say what I’m really thinking.
I need to lay it out on the line. I need to come clean with a few things. I’m not really sure where to start with this, but I’ve been thinking about a couple of topics that have really hit home lately. No, it’s not about local government, it’s not about how I sometimes feel that I have no social capital here in DC, as I’m not able to incorporate political banter into cocktail party conversations. It’s not even related to my fears about the repercussions of America’s burgeoning sense of elitism in its foreign policies. It’s about TV. And toilet paper. I want to talk about it. And I want to do so using bullet points.
Will I ever outgrow thinking of things like this? I have a strong feeling that the answer is NO. And I have a strong feeling that this is why people say things like , “Wow, I just don’t feel like I’m 87 years old…”
- After watching the new season of Dancing With the Stars, I’ve realized that my husband kind of looks like Mario Lopez
(yes, as in Saved By the Bell’s A.C. Slater- yeah, the hot one. Zack was the cute one, and Slater was the hot one... yeah, that's what I'M talkin' about...), and I like it. - I discovered that as of this weekend, I no longer have free HBO and Showtime (I had a sweet deal there for a while), and I’m fiending… hard. I’m like a crack addict searching for my next fix. I’m almost to the point where I’m willing to pay gobs of cash for premium TV just to get my weekly “Weeds” fix. And I don’t even want to think about not being able to watch the upcoming season of Big Love. It hurts too much to “go there” mentally.
- Lately I’ve been wondering what would happen if, while at work after each trip to the ladies’ room, I started folding the end square of toilet paper on the roll into points, like they do in hotels. I work at a federal library, so this little detail, however minor, would be very out of place. Would the next woman to use that stall think we upgraded out janitorial contractor? Or would she just start to freak out a little, thinking that she worked with someone with a secret toilet paper hang-up? Perhaps she would wonder if she was on candid camera? How many days in a row would I have to do this before I’d start hearing people talk about it in the kitchenette?
Will I ever outgrow thinking of things like this? I have a strong feeling that the answer is NO. And I have a strong feeling that this is why people say things like , “Wow, I just don’t feel like I’m 87 years old…”
Friday, September 08, 2006
The secret power of weddings
I have this funny feeling deep inside of me that makes me kind of think that.... I have the potential to be a Bridezilla. Two things gave me the feeling that this could never happen. 1) I'm already technically married, so this wedding-like event/reception that will take place in about a year really shouldn't be that big of a deal. Right? 2) I've never been the "wedding I've always dreamed of" type of girl. Or is it that I never had a concrete vision of what I'd want my wedding to be like??? Perhaps.
I've been married since April. Apparently I have not "officially" announced this to the world because I have not officially sent written announcements to billions of people I've never met (yes, "Dixie", my mom's Big Sister in her sorority* is on the list to receive one).
Can you tell by my sarcasm toward wedding announcements that this is not an item that I've been dreaming about since girlhood? So this should be no big deal right? I should just pick a cream colored card out of the book, put our names in the blanks, ask my mom really nicely to help me address them, slap some stamps on and call it done eh?
So why is it that I want my announcement to be Beautiful with a capital B? Why have I been scheming and drafting and toying with color swatches for the past 4 months? Why is it that I instinctively wanted to slap my father when he suggested that "people are going to look at them for 30 seconds and then throw them away!" ? Why do I so desire to have people open these announcements, take them from their beautiful deckled edge square flapped envelopes, gasp while covering their mouths and sigh "My gawwwd.... she has exquisite taste! What a lovely couple."
Is it only going to get worse from here? I've already gone on the record as saying that I don't want a fancy foofy dress. Will that all change once I actually start looking for one? I even joked about silly center-pieces. Will I soon discover that I simply must have fabulous centerpieces, for they are the heart of a nuptial table?!?
Am I really that concerned with what other people (who, for the most part, I don't even know) think of me?
I've come to accept that there is a part of me who does care about what others think of me, and because I'm a brassy blue-state girl, I try like hell to hide that. I think Ann Coulter would say that is part of my Liberal faith.
But there is one great equalizer in this world. One thing that can bring even the MOST self confident, not-giving a rat's ass what Dixie thinks of her-type of girl to her knees.
Her wedding.
There it is. That's the secret.
* I can make fun of sorority girls because I am one.
I've been married since April. Apparently I have not "officially" announced this to the world because I have not officially sent written announcements to billions of people I've never met (yes, "Dixie", my mom's Big Sister in her sorority* is on the list to receive one).
Can you tell by my sarcasm toward wedding announcements that this is not an item that I've been dreaming about since girlhood? So this should be no big deal right? I should just pick a cream colored card out of the book, put our names in the blanks, ask my mom really nicely to help me address them, slap some stamps on and call it done eh?
So why is it that I want my announcement to be Beautiful with a capital B? Why have I been scheming and drafting and toying with color swatches for the past 4 months? Why is it that I instinctively wanted to slap my father when he suggested that "people are going to look at them for 30 seconds and then throw them away!" ? Why do I so desire to have people open these announcements, take them from their beautiful deckled edge square flapped envelopes, gasp while covering their mouths and sigh "My gawwwd.... she has exquisite taste! What a lovely couple."
Is it only going to get worse from here? I've already gone on the record as saying that I don't want a fancy foofy dress. Will that all change once I actually start looking for one? I even joked about silly center-pieces. Will I soon discover that I simply must have fabulous centerpieces, for they are the heart of a nuptial table?!?
Am I really that concerned with what other people (who, for the most part, I don't even know) think of me?
I've come to accept that there is a part of me who does care about what others think of me, and because I'm a brassy blue-state girl, I try like hell to hide that. I think Ann Coulter would say that is part of my Liberal faith.
But there is one great equalizer in this world. One thing that can bring even the MOST self confident, not-giving a rat's ass what Dixie thinks of her-type of girl to her knees.
Her wedding.
There it is. That's the secret.
* I can make fun of sorority girls because I am one.
Tuesday, August 29, 2006
An Accidental Boot Camp
I have a membership at the YMCA near my place here in DC. They have personal training available, and I've been thinking it might be a good idea to sign up for a few sessions, as lately I feel like I'm accomplishing nothing at the gym, and not making the most efficient use of my time there. They also offer this team fitness program, where you sign up to be on a team that meets twice a week for training with a "strength coach." Its only 15 bucks per session as opposed to about 120 for an hour with a personal trainer, and you're in a group with about 4 or 5 people total. Figuring that I really don't need someone to stand there and watch me do sets, and that I wouldn't mind sharing a trainer with a group of people, I signed up for this team thing and had my first trial session yesterday.
Oh My Heck.
I meet with the group and introduce myself and we're off. I met the coach, and as we're heading upstairs to the free weight room (which I've never been in because its scary and full of men who are grunting and sweating) he explains that the strategy is simple: Work every muscle group to failure. No sets, no increasing weight gradually, just start big and go until you absolutely can't go any further.
At first its great, because he assigns a weight/lift/exercise to each person (Yay! No requirement for me to think!), gives you whatever weight he recommends, and you go until you just can't. This was fine for like, one or two exercises. And I was feeling all great about myself because he's buffing my ego with things like "You've got really great form- do you lift a lot on your own? No? Oh, are you an athlete?" (clearly he's buttering me up because this is my free trial session) But after my entire upper body was dead, and he's like, "Humm, Okay, Gina- shoulder press- Go!" and I wanted to kick him in the nuts, it just stopped being fun.
It was the same story with lower body, which was great, until we were "done" and then moved onto lunges. I swear to God we did 110, and I could barely walk afterward. And the sweet part was ending the night with a nice long round of wall-sits. And then abs. I really don't think I'd ever worked my legs to failure before- I seriously thought I was going to fall over, my legs were shaking like I'd had a stroke.
The only time I've ever felt something similar was in my triathlon, when I got off the bike and tried to run, only to find that my legs were still trying to peddle. It was like the connection between my brain and my muscles was severed. Weird.
So naturally I've now signed on for the entire 13 week session. It was all I could do to utter "where do I sign up?" So I fill out the paperwork and only AFTER I pay, does he go into the whole schpeal about how its also expected that I will do at least 4 hours of cardio per week in the gym in addition to these two hours of team trainings. And that I need to log my cardio in the book with the rest of my team so they can make sure I'm sticking with it... (And I'm thinking... Buddy, this wasn't in the brochure...Oh, wait it was in the brochure, I just didn't read it.)
Me: "So, can I count swimming or jogging with my dog as cardio"
Him: "well, you can count it every once in a while, but we really prefer you to stick to the cardio schedule that we'll create for you, because we really target anaerobic cardio.... blah blah blah... so rather than say, jogging with your dog for 30 minutes, It would be better to break it in to interval workouts with wind sprints..."
Can you not just see Daphne and I sprinting across the National Mall?
So I guess I've signed on for quite the proram. Wish me luck!
Oh My Heck.
I meet with the group and introduce myself and we're off. I met the coach, and as we're heading upstairs to the free weight room (which I've never been in because its scary and full of men who are grunting and sweating) he explains that the strategy is simple: Work every muscle group to failure. No sets, no increasing weight gradually, just start big and go until you absolutely can't go any further.
At first its great, because he assigns a weight/lift/exercise to each person (Yay! No requirement for me to think!), gives you whatever weight he recommends, and you go until you just can't. This was fine for like, one or two exercises. And I was feeling all great about myself because he's buffing my ego with things like "You've got really great form- do you lift a lot on your own? No? Oh, are you an athlete?" (clearly he's buttering me up because this is my free trial session) But after my entire upper body was dead, and he's like, "Humm, Okay, Gina- shoulder press- Go!" and I wanted to kick him in the nuts, it just stopped being fun.
It was the same story with lower body, which was great, until we were "done" and then moved onto lunges. I swear to God we did 110, and I could barely walk afterward. And the sweet part was ending the night with a nice long round of wall-sits. And then abs. I really don't think I'd ever worked my legs to failure before- I seriously thought I was going to fall over, my legs were shaking like I'd had a stroke.
The only time I've ever felt something similar was in my triathlon, when I got off the bike and tried to run, only to find that my legs were still trying to peddle. It was like the connection between my brain and my muscles was severed. Weird.
So naturally I've now signed on for the entire 13 week session. It was all I could do to utter "where do I sign up?" So I fill out the paperwork and only AFTER I pay, does he go into the whole schpeal about how its also expected that I will do at least 4 hours of cardio per week in the gym in addition to these two hours of team trainings. And that I need to log my cardio in the book with the rest of my team so they can make sure I'm sticking with it... (And I'm thinking... Buddy, this wasn't in the brochure...Oh, wait it was in the brochure, I just didn't read it.)
Me: "So, can I count swimming or jogging with my dog as cardio"
Him: "well, you can count it every once in a while, but we really prefer you to stick to the cardio schedule that we'll create for you, because we really target anaerobic cardio.... blah blah blah... so rather than say, jogging with your dog for 30 minutes, It would be better to break it in to interval workouts with wind sprints..."
Can you not just see Daphne and I sprinting across the National Mall?
So I guess I've signed on for quite the proram. Wish me luck!
Friday, August 25, 2006
A blog lightening round.... Go!
A couple of quickie updates then I'll send you back in the world knowing a little bit more about the silly things that have happened to me in the last week or so.
1) My 10 year high school reunion came and went two weeks ago. I was off frolicking in Nova Scotia at the time, and was unable to attend, but there were some photos posted so I was able to live vicariously through the experiences of others thanks to Snapfish. I was thrilled to see that one of the little pip-squeak kids who was in my Advisory (AKA: Homeroom) class turned out to be quite a looker after growing up. Good for him.
2) I now unequivocally accept that my neighbor is not, in fact, gay. I thought he was for a the longest time. I mean, his place is immaculate, he has a baby grand piano in his office (the same room that is packed full of bikes, computers, filing cabinets, sleeping bags, tool boxes etc in MY adjacent apartment) which he plays amazingly well, and he's just such a nice guy. Always willing to help, seems very sensitive and genuine without seeming creepy or sleazy. He is also a "personal friend" (he says) of my landlord, who is gay. They talk a lot, they hug each other hello... if it looks like a duck, and quacks like a duck, I don't know, I just kind assumed he was gay too.
So this girl has started coming by his place every once in a while and often times she'll come over late at night. (I know this because then you ring the door bell for either of our apartments, you can hear it in the other's too, so we regularly open the door for one another on accident). It didn't strike me as odd, as he repeatedly introduced her to me as "This is Katie- we work together." Something about the "...we work together" added to the end of every sentence made it seem like, well, maybe they were just friends. And when I did think about it, I would come to the natural conclusion that it was none of my damned business, and I didn't really care which way his wind blew. So I continued along my merry path of "I have a lovely gay neighbor man." Until I got home from walking Daphne yesterday.
As I was fishing for my keys to unlock the (new and improved) deadbolts, I had this weird feeling that the upstairs neighbor was watching porn... I think I just assumed the sound was coming from upstairs because the upstairs neighbor guy (as opposed to this next door neighbor guy) does seem a little sleazy. But as I found my key (and the jangling sound stopped) I realized that the sound was in fact coming from the next door- which is approximately 12 inches from MY door.
It was Katie, in all of her splendor. And it was my neighbor (though Katie was certainly the more vocal of the two). They were "working" together alright. And it did NOT sound like this was his first time "working" with a woman. From the tone of her feedback, I'd say he knew what he was doing. It was ALARMING how clearly the sound of their "work" was resonating through the entire front entry way of our small apartment building. To be honest, it sounded like they were doin' it with the front door wide open.
Because I could hear them so well, I just assumed that they could hear ME just as well too (though on further reflection, I'm sure they were a bit too busy to be listening up for the random comings and goings of fellow building tenants). So I immediately was overcome with extreme embarrassment. My reaction was strange- I've had "noisy neighbors" before, and never had a big problem with it, but I didn't really know those people. These two? I feel like I know them. I feel like I walked in on two friends, and now I'm afraid that I'm going to trip over my words or just blush like crazy next time I see them.
Who am I kidding though- I'm actually just jealous. Good for them!
3) All this talk about Pluto being reclassified, and no longer being considered a planet got me thinking. What kind of criteria are there to be a planet? How might one submit an entry for consideration into this planetary status? And who the heck gets to make the final decision?? Are the people on this decision committee huge geeks? Totally cool science wizards? A little bit of both?? How much are school text book companies dancing in the street right now at the prospect that all elementary school science teachers are going to have to order new books for this school year? But my two key questions are:
Any help with these questions would be greatly appreciated.
1) My 10 year high school reunion came and went two weeks ago. I was off frolicking in Nova Scotia at the time, and was unable to attend, but there were some photos posted so I was able to live vicariously through the experiences of others thanks to Snapfish. I was thrilled to see that one of the little pip-squeak kids who was in my Advisory (AKA: Homeroom) class turned out to be quite a looker after growing up. Good for him.
2) I now unequivocally accept that my neighbor is not, in fact, gay. I thought he was for a the longest time. I mean, his place is immaculate, he has a baby grand piano in his office (the same room that is packed full of bikes, computers, filing cabinets, sleeping bags, tool boxes etc in MY adjacent apartment) which he plays amazingly well, and he's just such a nice guy. Always willing to help, seems very sensitive and genuine without seeming creepy or sleazy. He is also a "personal friend" (he says) of my landlord, who is gay. They talk a lot, they hug each other hello... if it looks like a duck, and quacks like a duck, I don't know, I just kind assumed he was gay too.
So this girl has started coming by his place every once in a while and often times she'll come over late at night. (I know this because then you ring the door bell for either of our apartments, you can hear it in the other's too, so we regularly open the door for one another on accident). It didn't strike me as odd, as he repeatedly introduced her to me as "This is Katie- we work together." Something about the "...we work together" added to the end of every sentence made it seem like, well, maybe they were just friends. And when I did think about it, I would come to the natural conclusion that it was none of my damned business, and I didn't really care which way his wind blew. So I continued along my merry path of "I have a lovely gay neighbor man." Until I got home from walking Daphne yesterday.
As I was fishing for my keys to unlock the (new and improved) deadbolts, I had this weird feeling that the upstairs neighbor was watching porn... I think I just assumed the sound was coming from upstairs because the upstairs neighbor guy (as opposed to this next door neighbor guy) does seem a little sleazy. But as I found my key (and the jangling sound stopped) I realized that the sound was in fact coming from the next door- which is approximately 12 inches from MY door.
It was Katie, in all of her splendor. And it was my neighbor (though Katie was certainly the more vocal of the two). They were "working" together alright. And it did NOT sound like this was his first time "working" with a woman. From the tone of her feedback, I'd say he knew what he was doing. It was ALARMING how clearly the sound of their "work" was resonating through the entire front entry way of our small apartment building. To be honest, it sounded like they were doin' it with the front door wide open.
Because I could hear them so well, I just assumed that they could hear ME just as well too (though on further reflection, I'm sure they were a bit too busy to be listening up for the random comings and goings of fellow building tenants). So I immediately was overcome with extreme embarrassment. My reaction was strange- I've had "noisy neighbors" before, and never had a big problem with it, but I didn't really know those people. These two? I feel like I know them. I feel like I walked in on two friends, and now I'm afraid that I'm going to trip over my words or just blush like crazy next time I see them.
Who am I kidding though- I'm actually just jealous. Good for them!
3) All this talk about Pluto being reclassified, and no longer being considered a planet got me thinking. What kind of criteria are there to be a planet? How might one submit an entry for consideration into this planetary status? And who the heck gets to make the final decision?? Are the people on this decision committee huge geeks? Totally cool science wizards? A little bit of both?? How much are school text book companies dancing in the street right now at the prospect that all elementary school science teachers are going to have to order new books for this school year? But my two key questions are:
- How cool would it be to have a band named "Planetary Criterion"?
- Will calling Pluto a "Dwarf" as opposed to a "Little Planet" soon surface as a Planetary Rights violation?
Any help with these questions would be greatly appreciated.
Monday, August 14, 2006
An Update
Akk! The following post was written several days ago... I hit "save to draft" instead of "post" so... its just been hanging out, waiting to be read!
Behold... the hidden post of yesterweek:
Hi blog friends!
For a most interesting retelling of my experience at the Dixie Chicks concert last week with Lisaopolis, please visit her blog for a fabulous and (predominately) accurate account. I would have written my own entry, but figured that since SHE was the one who was ensandwiched by two drunk Mommy’s Gone Wild, SHE deserved to recount the evening…
Mom and Dad came down to visit for a quick stop in DC last Thursday before we all boarded the Amtrak to NYC, the embarkation port for our cruise(apalooza) to Canada last week. I refrained from taking photos, as between Lisa and Carnival Cruises (which offered copious amounts of photo ops with people dressed up as Mounties, fishermen, Nova Scotian pipers, pirates etc), I figured that all photographic needs were more than covered. Because of this, I have no photos to offer you (yet) of the actual cruise.
However… I do have photos from CSI Washington. Taken by my camera phone. By me. In my apartment. Which was the crime scene! Yeah, I came home to find that my apartment had been broken into while I was away. Coming home to find my place robbed really filled me with that not-so-fresh feeling of an uninvited stranger lurking through my things- which he/she/they clearly did. I suppose they were looking for computers, cash and jewelry, as they got two out of three from me (please... like I’D have cash laying around?? I’ve been so debit-card-only for the past 10+ years that I barely remember what currency looks like!) Once again, the idiots did not take the road bikes. (Did I mention that my mountain bike was ALSO stolen about a month ago?? The $300 mountain bike that was RIGHT next to thousands of dollars worth of road bikes? Idiots.) So two laptops and one wedding band later, (Shoot. So much for the bright idea of leaving it here, safely tucked in the back of my dresser drawer for “safe keeping” wile he’s in Iraq…) I am once again, dealing with my fabulous insurance company. And when I say fabulous, I’m actually not being sarcastic. USAA is the greatest. I highly recommend them to anyone who needs insurin’.
So thieves, in case you’re reading this, I’m going to lay it on pretty thick now:
Dear Thief:
Thank you for stealing my husband’s wedding band. I hope you have absolutely no clue that it is platinum and let some pawn shop owner suckers you into taking 50 bucks for it. Stupid jerk! I also hope that you appreciate that it was in my drawer (that you pilfered through) because he is in Iraq fighting terrorism AND evildoers AND people who hate freedom, wearing a cheap silver band now, figuring it would get banged up, or lost, or (possibly even) stolen while at WAAAAAARRRRRR.
Love and snuggles,
Ginapalooza
Okay, okay, I know the stuff about the evil-doers and freedom haters was bit much… but if ever there were a time to milk the “my husbands in Falluja” card, why not now?
So in the interest of multimedia, here are some pictures of CSI DC…
Exibit A: Trying to snag a quick photo while the officers were working… trying not to be too obvious about it… while sitting on my couch twiddling my thumbs, wondering what the heck one is supposed to DO while officers are dusting one's residence for fingerprints... Make small talk? Offer a drink? (answers: 1. Yes 2. No)
Exhibit B: My door with the fingerprint dust all over it. Please note my new dead-bolt that my landlord had installed already before I got home. (Yeah, not much good to get prints off a door that had been handled by the locksmith, but heck, at least they tried.)
Okay- that's all I've got for now.
Behold... the hidden post of yesterweek:
Hi blog friends!
For a most interesting retelling of my experience at the Dixie Chicks concert last week with Lisaopolis, please visit her blog for a fabulous and (predominately) accurate account. I would have written my own entry, but figured that since SHE was the one who was ensandwiched by two drunk Mommy’s Gone Wild, SHE deserved to recount the evening…
Mom and Dad came down to visit for a quick stop in DC last Thursday before we all boarded the Amtrak to NYC, the embarkation port for our cruise(apalooza) to Canada last week. I refrained from taking photos, as between Lisa and Carnival Cruises (which offered copious amounts of photo ops with people dressed up as Mounties, fishermen, Nova Scotian pipers, pirates etc), I figured that all photographic needs were more than covered. Because of this, I have no photos to offer you (yet) of the actual cruise.
However… I do have photos from CSI Washington. Taken by my camera phone. By me. In my apartment. Which was the crime scene! Yeah, I came home to find that my apartment had been broken into while I was away. Coming home to find my place robbed really filled me with that not-so-fresh feeling of an uninvited stranger lurking through my things- which he/she/they clearly did. I suppose they were looking for computers, cash and jewelry, as they got two out of three from me (please... like I’D have cash laying around?? I’ve been so debit-card-only for the past 10+ years that I barely remember what currency looks like!) Once again, the idiots did not take the road bikes. (Did I mention that my mountain bike was ALSO stolen about a month ago?? The $300 mountain bike that was RIGHT next to thousands of dollars worth of road bikes? Idiots.) So two laptops and one wedding band later, (Shoot. So much for the bright idea of leaving it here, safely tucked in the back of my dresser drawer for “safe keeping” wile he’s in Iraq…) I am once again, dealing with my fabulous insurance company. And when I say fabulous, I’m actually not being sarcastic. USAA is the greatest. I highly recommend them to anyone who needs insurin’.
So thieves, in case you’re reading this, I’m going to lay it on pretty thick now:
Dear Thief:
Thank you for stealing my husband’s wedding band. I hope you have absolutely no clue that it is platinum and let some pawn shop owner suckers you into taking 50 bucks for it. Stupid jerk! I also hope that you appreciate that it was in my drawer (that you pilfered through) because he is in Iraq fighting terrorism AND evildoers AND people who hate freedom, wearing a cheap silver band now, figuring it would get banged up, or lost, or (possibly even) stolen while at WAAAAAARRRRRR.
Love and snuggles,
Ginapalooza
Okay, okay, I know the stuff about the evil-doers and freedom haters was bit much… but if ever there were a time to milk the “my husbands in Falluja” card, why not now?
So in the interest of multimedia, here are some pictures of CSI DC…
Exibit A: Trying to snag a quick photo while the officers were working… trying not to be too obvious about it… while sitting on my couch twiddling my thumbs, wondering what the heck one is supposed to DO while officers are dusting one's residence for fingerprints... Make small talk? Offer a drink? (answers: 1. Yes 2. No)
Exhibit B: My door with the fingerprint dust all over it. Please note my new dead-bolt that my landlord had installed already before I got home. (Yeah, not much good to get prints off a door that had been handled by the locksmith, but heck, at least they tried.)
Okay- that's all I've got for now.
Monday, July 31, 2006
Hi Seattle, it's me.... I miss you.
When I moved to DC, people kept asking me: "Do you miss Seattle?" For a long time my standard reply would be to give them a thoughtful look into the eye, think for a few beats and then give an honest answer of, "You know, I really don't just yet."
Having grown up in the suburbs of Seattle, then returning from "afar" to spend the last several years living in the Seattle city limits, I'd had my fill of the great Northwest. For a while at least. To be honest, the city was starting to feel smaller and smaller each year. It wasn't too small, but it was getting more an more comfortable; more broken-in. The honeymoon was over and the little things were starting to bug me. Living near Capital Hill, every once in a while I'd find myself fantasizing about walking up to the dread-headed "People Now! Socialism Now!" sign holders and petitioners on Broadway to get up in their faces and throw out a sharp: "SERIOUSLY? Are you DENSE? Oh wait, you are! Okay, carry on." Or even walking up to a UW student shopping at Whole Foods and whispering into her ear: "Pssst... guess what? Just cause it's soy-based Mac and Cheese, doesn't mean its GOOD for you! In fact, a little bird tells me that over-production of soy is depleting ground water reserves in China! What are you gonna do with THAT?!?" then swiftly running away...
I loved (and still do love) Seattle, but I was ready for a change. Until a few days ago, the only things I truly missed about Seattle (besides the obvious of family and friends)
were (in ranked order):
1 Off leash dog parks in nearly every neighborhood
2 Taco Time
3 Decent customer service as the norm, not the exception
4 City streets that aren't littered with potholes (the streets north of Yessler at least...)
But now it's the dead of summer in DC, it's supposed to hit 104 tomorrow and stay nasty for the rest of the week. Thankfully, the peak season of mugginess here has corresponded nicely with my summer travel schedule: I will be on a cruise to Northern Canada all of next week, I spent time in mild San Francisco and Montana earlier this month and will be heading to Seattle twice in September (both trips are for weddings, and in the first one, I hope to attend to a few details of my own, as my marriage is somewhat of a 2 part mini series, with the "wedding" yet to happen...). Thinking about these trips made me realize that I really do miss Seattle. I love living in DC, and there is still much to-do on my list (which I don't anticipate ever not being the case), but I am very much looking forward to my visit home. I am also very much looking forward to the season to hurry up and get here... this humidity stuff is for the birds.
Things I want to do while I'm in Seattle (in no particular order):
1) Touch Yakima River, preferably while floating down said river in an inner tube.
2) Order a soft taco meal at Taco Time (I know, I have a problem)
3) Karaoke. Maybe even at the Rickshaw. But that's like, Varsity Seattle. See photo for example of my skills:
4) Go to any retail establishment and have employee ask me, "Can I help you?"
5) Surround myself with thousands of people who know what the word "WAZZU" means (AKA: go to Coug game in Seattle in the 16th)
6) Listen to KMTT, the Mountain. I admit, I really miss that radio station. I can listen online, but its just not the same.
There are many other things I'd like to do, but with a tight schedule, I'm trying to remain realistic in what I anticipate having time for. So... kayaking around the San Juans etc will just have to wait until retirement.
To all of you Washington State ex-pats, if there is anything you'd like me to do in your honor while I'm there, please advise.
Having grown up in the suburbs of Seattle, then returning from "afar" to spend the last several years living in the Seattle city limits, I'd had my fill of the great Northwest. For a while at least. To be honest, the city was starting to feel smaller and smaller each year. It wasn't too small, but it was getting more an more comfortable; more broken-in. The honeymoon was over and the little things were starting to bug me. Living near Capital Hill, every once in a while I'd find myself fantasizing about walking up to the dread-headed "People Now! Socialism Now!" sign holders and petitioners on Broadway to get up in their faces and throw out a sharp: "SERIOUSLY? Are you DENSE? Oh wait, you are! Okay, carry on." Or even walking up to a UW student shopping at Whole Foods and whispering into her ear: "Pssst... guess what? Just cause it's soy-based Mac and Cheese, doesn't mean its GOOD for you! In fact, a little bird tells me that over-production of soy is depleting ground water reserves in China! What are you gonna do with THAT?!?" then swiftly running away...
I loved (and still do love) Seattle, but I was ready for a change. Until a few days ago, the only things I truly missed about Seattle (besides the obvious of family and friends)
were (in ranked order):
1 Off leash dog parks in nearly every neighborhood
2 Taco Time
3 Decent customer service as the norm, not the exception
4 City streets that aren't littered with potholes (the streets north of Yessler at least...)
But now it's the dead of summer in DC, it's supposed to hit 104 tomorrow and stay nasty for the rest of the week. Thankfully, the peak season of mugginess here has corresponded nicely with my summer travel schedule: I will be on a cruise to Northern Canada all of next week, I spent time in mild San Francisco and Montana earlier this month and will be heading to Seattle twice in September (both trips are for weddings, and in the first one, I hope to attend to a few details of my own, as my marriage is somewhat of a 2 part mini series, with the "wedding" yet to happen...). Thinking about these trips made me realize that I really do miss Seattle. I love living in DC, and there is still much to-do on my list (which I don't anticipate ever not being the case), but I am very much looking forward to my visit home. I am also very much looking forward to the season to hurry up and get here... this humidity stuff is for the birds.
Things I want to do while I'm in Seattle (in no particular order):
1) Touch Yakima River, preferably while floating down said river in an inner tube.
2) Order a soft taco meal at Taco Time (I know, I have a problem)
3) Karaoke. Maybe even at the Rickshaw. But that's like, Varsity Seattle. See photo for example of my skills:
4) Go to any retail establishment and have employee ask me, "Can I help you?"
5) Surround myself with thousands of people who know what the word "WAZZU" means (AKA: go to Coug game in Seattle in the 16th)
6) Listen to KMTT, the Mountain. I admit, I really miss that radio station. I can listen online, but its just not the same.
There are many other things I'd like to do, but with a tight schedule, I'm trying to remain realistic in what I anticipate having time for. So... kayaking around the San Juans etc will just have to wait until retirement.
To all of you Washington State ex-pats, if there is anything you'd like me to do in your honor while I'm there, please advise.
Thursday, July 27, 2006
Stop the Presses:
I agree with the Republican National Committee!
Here's a quote from the Associated Press:
"The Republican National Committee rejected Dean's criticism of Al-Maliki, saying, 'It is incredibly troubling that Howard Dean would seek to score cheap political points by attacking the democratically elected prime minister of Iraq.' "
And that's all I'll say about it. 'Cause I don't have the energy to make this blog a place of serious discussion. I much prefer to discuss locker room etiquette, the cuteness of my dog etc.
Here's a quote from the Associated Press:
"The Republican National Committee rejected Dean's criticism of Al-Maliki, saying, 'It is incredibly troubling that Howard Dean would seek to score cheap political points by attacking the democratically elected prime minister of Iraq.' "
And that's all I'll say about it. 'Cause I don't have the energy to make this blog a place of serious discussion. I much prefer to discuss locker room etiquette, the cuteness of my dog etc.
Wednesday, July 26, 2006
Erik, I dedicate this one to you.
I gave this entry the above title because I'm going to talk about women in a locker room, and I wanted to proactively address any
snickering or borderline inappropriate comments. After all, I am the Queen appropriateness.
I was at the YMCA last night swimming. It was a little crowded, so I had to share a lane with 4 other swimmers, but other than that, it was a fine swim.
As background information, I will tell you that the locker room attendants tend to be older ladies who seem to enjoy sitting at the counter reading paperbacks while handing out towels and mini soap bars on an as-needed basis. Another core function of their jobs is handing out keys for the lockers. You can't bring your own lock; you've got to check out a key for a locker. You give them your membership card, they give you a key. Easy as that.
Each key has its own locker, so the locker that you get (naturally) depends on the key that you are given by the attendant. This seems like common sense- but what I didn't realize before yesterday- is that this system completely removes one's natural ability to select the location of our locker.
Men: Imagine that every time you pee, you have to use a pre-assigned urinal. This would override any/all prehistoric instincts to go to the urinal furthest away from any other person.
I never knew that women had a variation of this instinct as well. To be honest, I'd never paid much attention to the logistics of changing in a locker room in front of other women... before yesterday. As luck (or some weird and somewhat skeezy plan of the locker room lady) would have it, all the keys distributed in the 15 minute window in which I was changing, were for lockers in the same bank. There are about 5 rows of lockers; usually there are one or two people in each row at any one moment.
But here's a schematic of what it looked like last night when I returned from the shower:
(I'm the one in pink- surrounded by the other naked pink dots all crowded into one small space)
It was weird. And judging by the looks of "uhh... where am I supposed to look?" on everyone else's face (as I had to make extra efforts to make either EYE or FOOT contact with everyone else there), I wasn't the only one who thought it was oddly uncomfortable.
snickering or borderline inappropriate comments. After all, I am the Queen appropriateness.
I was at the YMCA last night swimming. It was a little crowded, so I had to share a lane with 4 other swimmers, but other than that, it was a fine swim.
As background information, I will tell you that the locker room attendants tend to be older ladies who seem to enjoy sitting at the counter reading paperbacks while handing out towels and mini soap bars on an as-needed basis. Another core function of their jobs is handing out keys for the lockers. You can't bring your own lock; you've got to check out a key for a locker. You give them your membership card, they give you a key. Easy as that.
Each key has its own locker, so the locker that you get (naturally) depends on the key that you are given by the attendant. This seems like common sense- but what I didn't realize before yesterday- is that this system completely removes one's natural ability to select the location of our locker.
Men: Imagine that every time you pee, you have to use a pre-assigned urinal. This would override any/all prehistoric instincts to go to the urinal furthest away from any other person.
I never knew that women had a variation of this instinct as well. To be honest, I'd never paid much attention to the logistics of changing in a locker room in front of other women... before yesterday. As luck (or some weird and somewhat skeezy plan of the locker room lady) would have it, all the keys distributed in the 15 minute window in which I was changing, were for lockers in the same bank. There are about 5 rows of lockers; usually there are one or two people in each row at any one moment.
But here's a schematic of what it looked like last night when I returned from the shower:
(I'm the one in pink- surrounded by the other naked pink dots all crowded into one small space)
It was weird. And judging by the looks of "uhh... where am I supposed to look?" on everyone else's face (as I had to make extra efforts to make either EYE or FOOT contact with everyone else there), I wasn't the only one who thought it was oddly uncomfortable.
Saturday, July 22, 2006
A New Respect for Our Founding Fathers
Or anyone else who could handle living in this sweltering sweat-lodge of a city in the days BAC (before air-conditioning).
This Seattle girl would love to say that she admires Patrick Henry for his mad-skills as a statesman, or TJ (My nickname for Thomas Jefferson, ever since I hung out with his likeness in Williamsburg) for that whole "Declaration of Independence writing thing".. but honestly, I've got to say that any Virginian who was that convicted in turning this place into the next great nation (requiring SIGNIFICANT concentration and focus during the month of JULY no-less...) deserves some props from me.
So there you have it. My self-centered, hot n' cranky statement del dia.
Which reminds me... I've been wanting to go to Mt Vernon at some point. Perhaps I'll ride my bike there tomorrow. Or better yet, drive in my air-conditioned car!
This Seattle girl would love to say that she admires Patrick Henry for his mad-skills as a statesman, or TJ (My nickname for Thomas Jefferson, ever since I hung out with his likeness in Williamsburg) for that whole "Declaration of Independence writing thing".. but honestly, I've got to say that any Virginian who was that convicted in turning this place into the next great nation (requiring SIGNIFICANT concentration and focus during the month of JULY no-less...) deserves some props from me.
So there you have it. My self-centered, hot n' cranky statement del dia.
Which reminds me... I've been wanting to go to Mt Vernon at some point. Perhaps I'll ride my bike there tomorrow. Or better yet, drive in my air-conditioned car!
Two more...
But I'm too lazy to make another table, so here we go:
Then: Celebrities Adopting Babies
Now: Celebrities Having Babies (seriously, has it ever been so hip and cool to be with-child?)
Then: Ugs
Now: Crocks (she says, while sporting a bright blue pair which, I admit, make me look like a complete spaz in my neighborhood)
Then: James Blunt
Now: Gnarles Barkley (as in: it used to be James Blunt who was interesting at first but bordering on annoying as all get-up due to BEYOND HEAVY radio play... We'll see if GB suffers the same fate... So far I hear "crazy" juuuust about every time I get in my car.
And to my commenter who thinks I shouldn't do "then" and "now" when the "thens" are so recent, well... that's kind of the whole point.... and we wonder were ADD comes from... look at the attention span of the general public!
And Lisa, if there IS a German translation of "Oh, SNAP!" you MUST share!
Then: Celebrities Adopting Babies
Now: Celebrities Having Babies (seriously, has it ever been so hip and cool to be with-child?)
Then: Ugs
Now: Crocks (she says, while sporting a bright blue pair which, I admit, make me look like a complete spaz in my neighborhood)
Then: James Blunt
Now: Gnarles Barkley (as in: it used to be James Blunt who was interesting at first but bordering on annoying as all get-up due to BEYOND HEAVY radio play... We'll see if GB suffers the same fate... So far I hear "crazy" juuuust about every time I get in my car.
And to my commenter who thinks I shouldn't do "then" and "now" when the "thens" are so recent, well... that's kind of the whole point.... and we wonder were ADD comes from... look at the attention span of the general public!
And Lisa, if there IS a German translation of "Oh, SNAP!" you MUST share!
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