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!

Am I up to speed?

Okay- just checking in to see if I'm up to speed on the latest. Please, someone let me know if I'm already out of date:

Then	Now
Y2K	Web 2.0
Friendster.com	MySpace ... okay, probably something newer. Facebook?
Dogster.com	Getting off one's ass and walking the dog
Reality Game Shows	Reality Talent Shows
Yahoo Groups, Listservs	Message Boards
Access Databases	php MySQL. Totally.
gmail	AOL, because I'm bringin' it back as a retro thing*

*okay, it's worth a shot. I think I'm the last person on AOL...

My friend...

I was going to YouTube today to find a clip of GW scaring the heck out of Angela Merkel via a presidential-personal-space-invading-back-rub, but decided to run a quick search for my friend Beth.... She found this lady on YouTube a while back after discovering that they had the very same first and last name. My friend Beth is a therapist. Wouldn't you know it- THIS lady is a therapist too! A LAUGHTER therapist. .. and she's got a whole serries of laughter therapy sessions for all to see online. I'm just glad that when my friends google themselves, they too find all types who share their names... But does this lady like Talking On the Phone and Boys as much as my namesake? Only time will tell... (Please reference my post titled "Oh Me, Oh My!" for more background info if you're lost here...)

The first I saw of Dr. Beth, she was doing a series on the sheer joy and laughter producing abilities of... pencils. Here she is jumping on the pirate bandwagon, complete with eye patch. I don't know why, but I hope someday she does a series as Sean Connery.



I don't know if I'm laughing at her or with her, but I'm laughing. Mission Accomplished Dr. Beth.

Making up for lost time...

In a desperate attempt to add more to my blog to compensate for recent shortages, I bring you- a silly little survey-like thing...

I am cuddler --- yes, but not if its too hot.
I am morning person --- nope.
I am a perfectionist --- uh, have we met? That'd be a no.
I am an only child --- no
I am currently in my pajamas --- no
I am currently suffering from a broken heart --- no
I am okay at styling other peoples' hair --- depends on how bad it was when we started :)
I am left-handed --- no
I am online 24/7-- nope... are we seeing a trend here? I'm usually not such a "no" girl.
I am shy around the same/opposite gender at first --- unfortunately, I tend to err on the other side. I talk too much.
I bite my nails --- problem solved through hypnosis. I'd love to tell you about it some time.
I can be paranoid at times --- yes, just ask my patient spouse.
I currently regret something I have said --- "regret" is such a strong word... I'm kind of embarrassed by some things, but not really regretful.
When I get mad I curse frequently --- Yes, but not as much as I used to when I worked with a bunch of boys.
I don't like anyone --- Eh? No! Who doesn't "like anyone"??
I enjoy country music --- yes
I enjoy jazz music --- yes
I enjoy smoothies --- not really.
I enjoy talking on the phone --- not usually. Unless its someone I haven't talked to in a while and I'm able to focus just on the phone conversation- I hate feeling like I'm multi-tasking while on the phone, which I'm guilty of too often.
I have a car --- Yes, Daphne and I travel by Subaru
I have/had a hard time paying attention at school --- not when I was in school, but my attention span is getting shorter and shorter each year...
I have a lot to learn --- yes, but I could teach a lot too.
I have a pet --- Daphne. She's more than a pet, she's a lifestyle.
I have a secret that I am ashamed to reveal --- I really don't think I have any 100% secrets. At least one person knows about each of them.... I think.
I have all my grandparents --- Two are still living, the other two are immortals.
I have at least one brother/ one sister --- two sisters
I have been to Europe --- not as often as I'd like. Going to Spain in October!
I have been told that I am smart --- Yes, but mainly by guys trying to get in my pants. Whoa- did I say that?
I have been told that I have an unusual sense of humor --- Yes.
I have broken a bone --- just a finger- while playing goalie. I was scared to death AND I got hurt. It sucked.
I have caller I.D. on my phone --- yes, so stop pranking me.
I have bathed with someone --- yes, but not for a while.
I have changed a diaper --- yes
I have changed a lot as a person over the past year --- Can I get an "Amen"??
I have friends who have never seen my natural hair color --- no, it's all natural baby.
I have had major/minor surgery --- only minor. Knock on wood.
I have killed another person --- with my stellar good looks? Nope.
I have had my hair cut within the last week --- No, but I need a cut. Haven't had one since April!
I have had the cops called on me --- Yes, but only because the people who called the cops were jealous of the amount of fun I was having.
I have kissed someone I knew I shouldn't --- Define "shouldn't." In any case, only in my past life.

Copy and paste as you will.

A sign of the times.

I don't know what all the fuss is about, it is clear from this graffiti that I found in a ladies room stall in the San Francisco airport that our education system is NOT in fact, letting our kids down.


In case you can't see the handwriting, it says "Semicolons are fun! Try them!" and the observer has drawn in her own semi-colon to replace the existing comma that was original to the sign.

As you were.

Quantity, not quality, is sometimes necessary.

Most of you are probably aware that the world has seemingly gone to hell in a hand basket since I last wrote. There’s a crazy little man in North Korea testing weapons, Israel and Lebanon are once again going at it, gas prices continue to climb and it all adds up to being over-my-head depressing. And my life goes on, and so does yours; filled with all sorts of inconsequential things. And sooner than later, I’m realizing that these inconsequential things are blessings everyday. I love being able to sit here and write about utterly non-important garbage. It has to mean that I’m high enough on Maslow’s hierarchy that I can sit here and dither about camping trips and conferences in Florida. And it’s a privledge that I do not over look. And with that….

Here are bullet points that Ginapalooza should have been covering over my last one month blogging hiatus:

I mentioned a camping trip in my almost-last post. It was grand. Learned the spray-on Banana Boat Ultra waterproof sun block is the way to go for all of my active, outdoor, water-logged sun protection needs. I am now a believer, and open to any spokeswoman contracts that may be available. And needless to say, the dough-boys were a hit.

Took a trip to Clearwater Beach Florida for a conference, where my stupid phone broke… and was broken way too many days before I even noticed that it wasn’t functioning. I just thought no one was calling me. A blog-worthy even in itself.

Took another trip (this time for pure fun and girl bonding) to Bozeman Montana to see Amy and Casey reaffirm their vows and soak up some Big Sky. It was lovely, as were all of my friends who attended. And unlike the normal post-wedding funk I go through- after I realize that the big fun event is now OVER and it will be God-knows-how-long until I see my girls again, this time I knew that I’d see most/all of them again soon at Erin’s wedding in September  Joy!

Followed up the trip to Bozeman with a road trip with Tim and Beth to visit Cora and Thomas at their home in Jackson Hole. WY. The trip included white water rafting, more fun in the sun (again, with above-mentioned banana boat sun block) and numerous jokes about being a Sister Wife and/or Second wife. Trust me, it was more funny than awkward at the time. I also got to see the very site where the Veep flies in and out of on his trips home from DC (AKA- the Jackson Hole airport) which was a thrill to behold.

Came home the night of July 4th, where I experienced my very first DC Independence Day… from the seat of my couch, home alone. It was pouring down rain so hard that the plans I had were sacked, making the whole event rather anti-climactic and alarmingly lonely. I seem to have bi-polar 4th of July’s. They’re either really good, or really bad. Sadly, the combination of foul weather and coming down from a high of being with the best group of friends a girl could ask for put this one into the “really bad” category. I threw a small pity party for myself and got over it.

Toiled away at work for about a week before having to head out again for another conference- just as I was finally getting my e-mail’s in-box cleared up. This time I had to head out for a trip to San Francisco for another conference. The conference was great, but my favorite part was probably just being in San Francisco- where one could actually drive down the street with the windows open and feel cool fresh air. Not like DC in the least, where the outdoors are the enemy these days. Where all efforts must be made to keep the outside… out!

Aside from a lovely little dinner party the night of the 14th, which was of great assistance in helping Ginaplaooza ring in her 28th year, I was able to snag one more night of girl time with Beth and Baum a few days later when they came up to the city for dinner and a movie. We saw the Devil Wears Prada (loved Meryl Streep in it, but ultimately left the theater feeling very dowdy, as my own lack of fashion know-how was made only more apparent…) and went to dinner at a little place called “Steps of Rome.” This place was fully staffed by young Italian men who, according to the one who spoke and understood English fluently (he was from Connecticut rather than the motherland directly) had all stayed up way too late the night before and were entirely hung-over. First there were forgotten salads, then there were way too many salads... We weren’t sure if Who was on first or if What was on second. Connecticut-guy explained to me that it was a combination of their lack of English (“these damned Italians don’t understand a word…”) and the fact that they’d all cracked open several bottles of vino in the back room in efforts to get a little hair of the dog from the night before. They were all so charmingly ineffective. I loved it. Lord knows I pity the foo’s who end up marrying these boys- as I highly suspect that they’d need their mothers to accomplish MOST tasks in life, but for a night, they were altogether lovely and delightful. Yes, it really takes very little these days.

Which brings me to the preview of what’s to come at Ginapalooza. I’ve been trying to build a metal Top 10 list of best things about having my husband in Iraq for a year.

I figure anyone can make a list of Top 10 worst things, so why not try to take the optimistic path and solidify some things that are actually good about our current situation? In three months, I’ve only been able to come up with about 3 things, so I’ll try to think on it a bit more and hope to have 10 solids red-checker items soon.

Oh Me, Oh My...

As if I needed proof that I should be blogging more frequently (I'm sorry- I know its been a long time, I offer no excuses), I just googled myself and
THIS is what I find...

I have no words for this.



I DO have an actual blog entry started, which I was working on while waiting for my plane to board for my flight back home from San Francisco- it's still in the works, but there will be photos of bathroom graffiti caught on camera phone, so get excited for THAT!

In case I forget, remind me to tell you all about my last two trips out west- once to Bozeman/Jackson Hole, and this last one to San Jose and San Francisco, where I discovered the male equivalent of the "Dumb Blonde" (which would be the "Italian Waiter") Something refreshing about people who are most likely incapable of doing anything of consequence, but look great doing it. This will most likely be the first in my "Little Miss Married's Chronicles of Looking But Not Touching."

With that, I offer one thousand apologies for my absences, and hope to get back into the swing of things shortly.

Chief Camp Rangerette, for the weekend at least.

So…. Guess what I’M doing this weekend? This afternoon I’m taking off for the high lonesome hills of the Shenandoah Valley (which is neither, high, extremely lonesome or hilly, but go with it) or maybe it’s off the Shenandoah River? Eh, I didn’t plan it, and honesty have no idea where it is on the map (note to self: get directions) but it’s about 1.5 hours outside of DC, somewhere in Virginia. All I know is that I’m bringing Daphne, my mountain bike, river shoes, a sleeping bag and about 8 gallons of sunblock of the SPF 45+ variety. And some beer.

I’m co-hosting the Saturday breakfast, and you can bet your sweet sit-upon that there will be dough-boys involved. No, that’s not the North Carolinian way of pronouncing the last name “Dubois,” but rather the warm and tasty campfire biscuit delights that I first discovered as a Girl Scout. I reluctantly admit that I have burning desire to bring my Brownie uniform that wore for Halloween a few years ago…

I went to Costco yesterday afternoon to stock up on food for my meal responsibility and also happened upon a couple of choice CD’s that will make the drive there simply divine. Duran Duran Greatest Hits AND a Johnny Cash three DC collection. How set am I??

Speaking of CD’s, I don’t want to jinx myself here, but the last 5 CD’s I’ve purchased have all turned out to be fabulous. I’ve come to expect a dud every few purchases, but for the life of me, I can’t remember the last DC I bought that I don’t totally love…

Keith Urban’s newest one, Imogen Heap, Dixie Chicks, Thievery Corporation’s newer one, and now this Duran Duran album (which truly IS a Greatest Hits. Every time a new song comes on, I think to myself, “no… THIS is my favorite Duran Duran song… and then the next song is Rio… Or Girls on Film! Too hard to choose just one.)

Even this Johnny Cash set is a good one. The last one I bought was notably lacking Get Rhythm, I’ve Been Everywhere, Cry Cry Cry, AND Hey Porter… which is asinine. This set however, doesn’t contain Jackson OR Ring of Fire which is both shocking and bewildering. But I of course already have those, so I’m not missing them too much.

So what do you think- why is it so hard to find a TRUE best-of/greatest hits/box collection for an artist with an extensive career?

Jackson Hole Wyoming... Is that in Ontario, Canada?

Thanks Kelly, for passing along this fabulous video to me. In the spirit of my recent transaction with www.cheaptickets.com, in which all I wanted was a flight out of Jackson Hole, Wyoming (yet the call center agents couldn't, for the life of them, understand that Wyoming was a State... in the United States of America), I'd like to share this video with all of you. I found it hilarious.

You'll need Flash 8 to play it correctly. If you don't have it, you can download it here...

Here's the link! http://www.callcentermovie.com/

Health and Beauty Products: Go Big or Go home.

I suspect that I’m like most other women in that it pains me to think about how much money I’ve likely spent on health and beauty products so far in my lifetime. From that first jar of Oxy 10 astringent pads which lived in my Caboodle with a myriad of flavored lip glosses, to my most recent purchase which reflect an affinity for any products that boast abilities to “reduce the look of fine lines and aging,” I’ve experienced my fair share of winners and losers.

In the spirit of sandal season, I’d like to take a moment of your time today to share with you a product that has been around for ever, but I’ve just discovered. A truly effective callus remover.

Ladies and gentlemen, please raise you hand if you’ve ever questioned the usefulness of a pumice stone. Who among us hasn’t sat in the bathtub, scrubbing away at their heals, building enough thermal energy to nearly start a fire, while wondering if all efforts were truly just in vain? Don’t be shy, raise those hands high. Nothing to be ashamed of. We’ve all been there.

Or how about the giant stiff brushes? Yeah, because if a porous brick won’t do the trick, surely a good foot brushing will magically slough off the dead skin. I even invested in a dremel-tool like electric device that essentially sand-belts the calluses away, but even that left me feeling short-changed.

I’ll be real honest with you folks. I gave up. Sure, I went through the motions; I’d continue with the occasional salon pedicure and interim home maintenance. But my heart wasn’t in it. I’d lowered my expectations. I’d accepted that I would always have calluses on my feet. Pretty feet and soft heals were for the other girls, not for me. I didn’t deserve true and lasting fulfillment. I tried to tell myself that it was okay, that it was an advantage, because in a pinch, I could walk across a gravel drive-way barefoot with slightly less discomfort than those other…. soft-footed girls.

But a funny thing happened to me the other day. A funny thing called “hope.”

While shopping at Target for a pair of cheap sandals to replace last year's cheap sandals which were behond trash-worthy and falling apart, I heard a little something from my inner voice. My inner voice said: “Gina, listen to me. Maybe this year things will be different. Maybe this time products will work. Maybe today you should let go of your fears. Your fears of failure, fears of disappointment, fear of unreciprocated devotion to nice-looking feet. Just PUT YOUR SLEF OUT THERE girlfriend! Do it! Try again! You haven’t lost until you’ve stopped trying! If you can believe it, you can achieve it!”

I looked to my inner voice, my higher power, and what I heard was “YES!”

So I did it. I zeroed in on the Sally Hanson product display like an elite member of the podiatric Delta Force.

Delta One to Inner Voice: “Same old shit Inner Voice, brushes, lotions, creams. This is child’s play. Abort and reroute to heavy artillery. I’m going to talk with The Good Doctor... Dr. Scholl that is.”

Inner voice to Delta One: “Excellent work Delta One, but you’re on your own now. Keep us advised here at Command Control. Good luck. Good luck and Godspeed….”

(in case you couldn’t tell, my Inner Voice went from resembling an Oprah/Dr. Phil hybrid to sounding an awful lot like Charlton Heston. Charlton Heston circa “Soylent Green,” sans the gun-toting NRA spokesman vibes. Hey- it was in my imagination, I’m allowed to mess with reality)

I repositioned and found myself uncomfortably juxtaposed with wrist braces, anti-fungal powders and bedpans. This was a different ball game. No longer was I shopping for a traditional health and beauty aid. No longer was I comforted by the proximity of my friends Bonny Bell and Max Factor. I was in the land of non-prescription medical assistive devises, drugstore reading glasses and adult incontinence aides. I was damned near the pharmacy.

And there she was. Right next to the Gold Bond Medicated anti-itch powder and bunion removal pads (still not sure what an actual bunion is, but the name alone makes them sound unfortunate enough to cast much doubt that a little sticky foam pad would be effective in removing them): a product that both frightened and fascinated me. Not just another “callus remover,” but a callus remover with the words “strong German blades stay sharp longer!” written on the outer package.

Was this true? A callus removing product containing actual razors? A tool that I could potentially REALLY hurt myself with?? How delightfully retro! The generic version’s $3.50 price tag only served to encourage my fascination, as I love products that reinforce my theory that “You get what you pay for. Except with health and beauty supplies.”

I grabbed the $3.50 store brand callus shaver thing, my $9.00 sandals and was out the door (after paying of course).


Fair reader, I’ll spare you the details of the actual callus removal process, but leave you with the following adjective that described my process:

Effective, gratifying, quick, thorough, fabulous, horrendous, shocking, intriguing, unexpected, liberating, frightening, joyous, fulfilling.

All for $3.50.

So today a part of me is gone. A dead and callused part of me, and I’m a better person for it. I thank you Inner Voice, for pulling me out of that foggy haze of foot apathy and depression, and I thank you Dr. Schol, for reminding me that like eye-lash curlers, sometimes the freakiest and oddest-looking contraptions make the best healthy and beauty must-haves.



End scene.


Topic for another day: I no longer have any respect for Paul McCartney, as he apparently turned down his then fiancé’s offer to sign a prenuptial agreement citing that it was “unromantic.” Nice move Paul. Maybe all those trips to the strawberry fields took a larger toll on your ability to perceive reality than one might have initially assumed. She’ll likely be walking away with hundred of millions. (of still valuable POUNDS). You’re a frigg’n BEATLE for the love of God. You have A LOT to lose. Did you learn nothing after teaching Jacko how to buy music rights? Sometimes reality interferes with an individual’s ability to be super nice. It’s the world we live in Paul. Welcome to it.

Once again, I've been peer-pressured into the Circle of Youth.

I’d been resisting MySpace. Resisting it like I’ve resisted Harry Potter, Lord of the Rings and Blackberries. I’ve been duped before by passing trends- I always seem to be on the losing end of them. I have an extensive Beanie Baby collection. I have a Palm Pilot with at leather Tumi case which is likely worth a whole lot more than the device itself. I have a page on Friendster. Heck, Daphne has more friends on Dogster than I have on Friendster. And SHE’S one of my Friendster friends…

I wasn’t going to spend my precious Gray’s Anatomy Watching Time on a MySpace profile. I mean really, It’s not like I’m looking for online MySpace love or anything, and certainly not looking for attention from old men who have grown a recent and unexplainable of fear of Dateline NBC.

But leave it to Jennifer to sway the Ginapalooza Opinion Poll toward jumping right into the BLEEDING EDGE of technology and all that is NOW and COOL and YOUTHFUL! (don’t worry, I was trying to be ironic by using the term “bleeding edge”, because it, and MySpace are no longer the newest/hippest/coolest). Because it’s true, everyone is on MySpace. Okay, not everyone, but enough people who I haven’t seen in years just to make it interesting. And since I won’t be able to make it to my High School reunion this summer (which is weird, because of all people, I never thought that I would be among the married people at my 10 year high school reunion. But hey, the world has its own timeline… which rarely coincides with my own. Okay, digressing again.), I thought this would be a fun way to sneak up on old acquaintances.

So once again, I’m jumping on a trend wagon. With this in mind, you can almost guarantee that MySpace will be “sooooo over” in about three months. The clock starts today.

The smell of Love and Sunshine...

Can be found by nestling your face up to the ear of a dog who has been lying in the sun on the back pouch napping.

I'm heading to the American History museum today, as it will be closing for renovations soon, (so I finally have a sense of urgency that will get my butt to one of the Smithsonians this century).

Knowing that this will be an all day affair (and its already noon...) I decided to take Daphne out for a quick walk around the block for a potty break.

Its a beautiful, sunny day out and when we returned home, I gave her a snuggle after taking off her leash. I had to linger there for a while, at the spot on her face just anterior to her ear. It smelled like a country dirt road on a warm sunny day. Dogs, dirt roads and sunny days. It reminded me of being little. I figured it out: it smelled like growing up.

So... if anyone is looking for smell of love and sunshine, I found it. It's on my dog.

Overdue, but here she is...

I know I said I'd post this "shortly" and its over a week later, but this girl has been busy with family in town, infuriating bouts of lower back pain, seasonal allergies and getting married etc.

While Lisa was in town she got to try on the ring and model it for all to see. Here it is:


The ring is still looking for a good home...

An Open Letter to My (old) Fake Engagement Ring

It’s been a good run old girl, but its time you moved on, you need someone who can love you and take care of you the way I can’t. You deserve more than to be shoved away into some storage box, never again to share your sparkle with the world. You have performed dutifully my comrade, and for that, I thank you.

And to think, I didn’t even know I’d need you until I moved back to Seattle and joined the Downtown 24 Hour Fitness. It was there that I learned that I do in fact, have a sign on my forehead that reads: “If you’re a guy who’s under 5’2” and you like to grunt while you lift weights which are far heavier than you can safely lift, I am totally in your league. Please come talk to me. Limited English skills a plus!”

So I did it. I bought you. You were an impulse purchase at Nordstrom Rack- you called to me while I was waiting in line to buy some shoes. You were hanging there on a circular display, surrounded by some of your friends. Your friends were gigantic. Like Pamela Anderson’s breasts, they screamed of fakeness. No- I was looking for something different. More of a Dolly Parton. Big? Yes. In your face? Yes. Somehow tastefully over-the-top? Exactly. And your $12 price tag was in my budget.

We set out from there together. You lived in my wallet’s change compartment and were happy there. Though you were only called to action a handful of times during our years together, you faithfully stood on-point, ready to serve around the clock.

You even helped my friends- which was perhaps your role which brought me the most joy. Like a ninja, I learned not only how to locate you and get you onto my ring finger in a swift and virtually undetectable motion, but also how to subtly pass you into the hand of a girl-friend-in-need. Drug dealers in South Central LA would envy my ability to make such a stealth transfer under the watchful gaze of a Mr. Wrong. You helped Allison that time at Lelani Lanes when even the presence of her actual boyfriend didn’t seem to discourage her pursuer. You helped Ann dissuade Mr. Important-Job-on-Capitol-Hill the at the bar in DC by acting as the ring that was not only her great-grandmother’s, but also a sign of commitment between her and her life companion. (All of this serving as the logical excuse for why you were visibly WAY too big for her).

But most importantly, you helped me. Helped me, and enabled me to avoid uncomfortable honesty. Have you essentially helped me lie? Yes, but have you helped me lie in a why that spares others’ feelings? Yes. In my opinion, the ends justified the means.

But now I have a real engagement ring. It is beautiful just like you. I hate to say that it is more beautiful than you, so I’ll spare your feelings. Besides, while you both feature impressive micro pavé set accent diamonds and a bezel-set center stone, you two are made of very different materials and have totally different reasons for being; This one is meant to stay on my finger- forever. I really shouldn't take this one off- even if I want to get hit on. So I won’t say that my new ring is better, I’ll just say that it’s different. In a good way.

I will always have a place in my heart for you, but we both know that its time we parted. I’m happy now- you deserve to be happy too.

So I’m having a contest write here on Ginapalooza. I want to find the best home for you, and I want to hear from each interested reader why HE OR SHE deserves to have you. I want to know what kind of home you will have, what kind of activities and jobs you can look forward to etc. Readers can comment below as to why they feel they are the most deserving of a new fake engagement ring. I will consider all applicants, and your full custody will be awarded to the winner. Special preference will be give to applicants who promise to send me pictures of you in action throughout your times together.



(note to readers: I will post photos of this beauty shortly...)

The Dixie Chicks strike again!

Hot digidy!

I’ve been out of the music loop lately (um, was I really ever in it?) but I heard from Darling Beth today that the Dixie Chicks are releasing their new album later this month so I did some snooping online and found that aolmusic.com released the video of the single, “Not Ready to Make Nice” today. Watched it. Loved it. Voted on the poll afterward expecting to see that most others loved it too. Wrong-0.
I was in the minority. About 30% of viewers loved it. The rest hated it. Someone must have organized some sort of a Vote “Hated It”-Clear Yer’ Cookies and Vote Again! Rally somewhere down in Texas, as there STILL seem to be some people who are pissed off about the Dixie Chicks. So much so that they can’t recognize a good song when they hear it. Oh, maybe that explains the success of Toby Keith…. Ah, I see. Now THERE’S Someone with good, strong ass-kicking American family values exemplified in these lyrics outlining the benefits to just knocking one out in a one-night-stand rather than dither about with all that relationship garbage (which apparently is “too demanding”.)


Sorry… back to the Dixie Chicks-The whole song was very angsty, full of emotion and a big old “Screw You!” to all who reacted so violently against them after they voiced their disapproval of GW however long ago that was. And when I say “violently” I mean it- the lyrics allude to death threats received by Natalie Maines received as a result of her opinions. Because God knows, there is nothing more un-American that having an opinion and voicing it. Sheesh…

So my plea to the people who are going to get all worked up again about the Dixie chicks and spend a bunch of energy hating them: just save it. It’s a great song, they’re great performers and they can rock their instruments and voices. Besides, as I’ve already mentioned, there are PLENTY of other country artists out there who will sing you nice songs about America Kicking Ass etc. Go listen to them if it makes you feel better. Or just, well, open your mind a bit.

For now, I'm going to go on loving country music among other genres, wishing that a lot of it was better, enjoying the good stuff when it comes around, and simply changing the channel when there's a song that I don't like.

Things that have happened since you heard from me last:

1. Had too much to drink at the Army Navy Club. I’m sure many people throughout history have said that, and now I’m proud to be among their ranks. Proceeded to go out for oysters at a near by restaurant and assume role of “Oyster Aficionado/Goddess” solely because I am from the State of Washington.
   
2. Went to see the WILD PONIES(!!!!) on Asseteague Island off the coast of Maryland.
   
3. Got a scoffed at by teen-aged waiter at a local crab restaurant because I’d never had soft shell crabs. (I mean he was really looking at me like I was an alien- I think he thought I was lying to him or something? His exact words were “Um, you’ve never had soft shell crabs? Um, that’s weird.” Regardless, I’m proud to say that Dungeness are way better. Soft shell crabs can get off their high horse as far as I’m concerned.
   
4. Learned that J will be leaving in 2 weeks. Then found out yesterday that he actually has to leave a week earlier than that to go to a class back in Washington State before he leaves… I swear.
   
5. Looked at a Condo for sale in a not great but not too terrible part of town that was tiny, had one bedroom, a den/office, kitchenette and 2 bathrooms that was selling for 360K. “Cozy” would be an accurate description.
   
6. Went back to the Middle Eastern restaurant with the great dessert- paid attention this time and learned that it is called “Namoura.” I think that is Arabic for “Best three dollars you’ve ever spent in your life- period.” The place is called Mama Ayesha’s and I highly recommend it on your next visit to The District.

That’s about it. What have y’all been up to? Plans for tomorrow’s St. Patrick’s Day? Me? I’ll probably throw on the trusty “Everyone Loves and Irish Girl” shirt, have a Harp or two and… end up singing Molly Malone until the downstairs lady calls the police again??

1) I totally forgot to mention that the downstairs lady called the cops on us last weekend at around 9:15PM on Friday night for being too loud. Lisa had just arrived for the weekend and we were playing Kareoke Revolution. I guess her version of Bobby McGee was just too good to ignore? Or perhaps it was me...
So my new mental notes to self: No bone chewing at after 9PM for Daphne, and no fun-having past 9:15 for the rest of us.

2)There is only one dog park in the DC city limits, and when we go there, we always park (illegally) in the neighboring restaurant’s parking lot because there is really no parking for the park- which is just a little quirk of DC... I always feel like a sneaky bad-ass with a guilt complex for parking there, but its usually just for 15 minutes or so.

Last night, knowing that there were no groceries in the refrigerator, we decided to have dinner there after the dog park. It is a really lovely Middle Eastern place. I just wish I would have known how great the food was a long time ago. The dinner was great (I had stuffed cabbage, very ugly but very tasty) but the dessert was out-of-this-world fabulous. It was kind of like baklava, but lighter- kind of fluffier, not quite as dense. I forget what it was called, but god-willing, I’ll be able to recognize it on a menu again some day. Essentially, I wanted to embrace our waiter for having recommended it to us in the first place. If I knew his name, I’d likely put him in my will (though Lisa already has first dibs on my most valuable asset: Daphne).

So- not only did I feel like I finally supported the restaurant at which I regularly park illegally, but I food that made me want to jump up and down and clap. All in all, a good night.

Hello Friends

Funny how things like oh, say, blogging just don’t seem as appealing when I am mentally taxed all day at work. Kind of says a lot about my last job eh? Just imagine that you are about a year old. You’re standing at one end of a hallway. Someone at the opposite end is standing there, looking at you and says “Walk over here.” Now, as a grown person (or even a 5 year old) you see no big challenge in walking across the room. But friend, you are only one. You can barely walk. This molehill seems like a mountain.

That’s how I feel at work now. I know that soon I’ll look back and realize how not hard this really is, its just all so brand new that I have to learn every tiny aspect from nothing.

So imagine me, as a one year old. When someone asks me to walk across the room, I want to do it. I see how easy it is. Millions of people do it everyday… it even looks kind of fun… But first I’ve got to figure out how to balance, flex my muscles, bend my knees and pick up my feet.

You dig?

Now let’s talk about my car:

I got a new battery at Sears for my car. While I was there, I figured I’d get new tires too, as I would be pushing my luck to continue driving on my old ones for much longer. And I mean really, what’s not to love about dropping $500+ on your car in an afternoon? But now I can stop each and every time I hit the brakes, which is good.

I thought I was driving a really hard bargain by opting out of the road hazard extended warranty after I noticed that it was automatically added to my work order and bill. (PS- if you want to really irk me, sell me something and charge me for it without asking me first- I love that!). So after opting out of said extended warranty protection (I mean come on, tires are thick and strong- and they have a manufacturers warranty in case anything major happens…) I promptly hit a massive curb/drain/pothole-like thing on the street when I was trying to park at night. And when I say “promptly,” I mean “the very next god damned night after buying brand new tires”. Huge gouge in the side wall of the new tire. Swear words were spoken. A guy in a wheel chair stopped on the sidewalk and told me I should have my alignment checked. I was furious. The kind of furious that you get when you have no one to blame but yourself, and even then, it really isn’t your fault. So to speak.

So with my head hanging low, I returned to Sears and told them my story, and fully expected to have to pay another $100 and some change on a new tire. But they guy said, ‘Oh, you might be okay- it’s probably covered under the warranty… (reads through paper work…) Oh shoot- looks like you opted out of the road hazard warranty. Too bad.”

We had a laugh about Murphy’s law and he was an agreeable enough guy. And then the unthinkable happened:

Guy at Sears: “Listen, why don’t I just charge you the $45 for the extended warranty as if you bought it yesterday, and then the cost of the new tire and realignment is covered under the warranty.”

Gina: ______________(that’s the sound of me being speechless with delight).


So- Thank you guy at Sears, you really made me feel like less of an ass for nearly popping my tire while parallel parking!

And advice to all others who live in cities with terribly maintained roads*:


Just pay for the warranty.



*I’m not complaining, just making an observation.


Car Topic 2: I took my car in for its 60K mile tune up today, and I get a call that both of my “marker lights” are burnt out. After a far-to-long conversation with the gal on the phone about not only what “marker lights” are (the lights in your head light unit that are neither headlights or turn signal lights…?) but also their function which apparently is to accompany the headlight and tell others that they are in fact, viewing the front of your car rather than the back (Which I was only able to ascertain after loudly stating “I understand that they are MARKER LIGHTS, I need you to tell me what they DO- what is their reason for BEING), she gave me a repair quote:

“that’ll run ya $154.”

I guess this dealership has a woman service manager available to speak with other woman clients so we don’t feel like we’re getting screwed over, but its hard not to feel like your village was just pilfered when someone tells you that they’re going to change two light bulbs, and charge you $154 (in addition to the super spendy 60K service, about which I am already conflicted, given that they’re really just changing the oil, checking the fluids and changing my spark plugs…).

She said that the parts are only $6, but the labor is what costs so much because they have to remove the entire headlight assembly.

Maybe I should have learned my lesson re. “getting what you pay for” with the whole tire warranty deal, but can you blame me for wanting to see if I can fix the damned lights on my own before I spend that much to have someone else do it?

And its not even for my headlights (which work fine) but for my MARKER LIGHTS, which truth be told, I didn’t even know existed before today.

So… anyone know how to take apart a headlight assembly in an ’02 Subaru Outback Sport?


And all this for a car when I’d just prefer to take the metro everywhere so I can listen to the Ricky Gervais Show Podcasts on my iPod…

Almost Heaven, West Virginia...

Blue Ridge Mountains, Shenandoah River….

Hot Damn, isn’t it great that just the thought of John Denver can put a smile on your face? What? It didn’t put a smile on your face? Okay, just the thought of John Denver puts a smile on MY face. And probably Anne’s. And Kari’s too!

I was a real live Mountain Mamma this weekend- I went to West Virginia!! J and I went skiing at Snowshoe for the three day weekend and had a lovely time. I was prepared for crappy ski conditions, as I was advised that all snow on this side of the country is pretty much 100% pure garbage, but really- it wasn’t too bad. Not great, but ski-able. The double black diamond runs were closer to hefty blue squares in my book, and there was a fair amount of man-made snow, but it did the trick.

And here’s what put me over into the “I’d ski there again” category: The West Virginians.

Seriously the nicest people- as a whole- that I’ve ever encountered. Real salt of the earth types. Sure, our waitresses generally had sideburns that reminded me of my grandfather in the early 80’s, but what they lacked in fashion and dental hygiene, they made up for in good-hearted wholesomeness. No other way to word it.

I’m looking forward to going back there in summer- I predict that it will be a beautiful drive when everything is alive a green. Daphne will also appreciate a return trip to her homeland. I don’t know that she really has roots in WV, but I’d like to think that she does.

So aside from skiing, there was soaking in the hot tub after said skiing (much needed), Trivial Pursuit Pop Culture (at which I totally RULE!), eating of good food, and watching of Olympic level curling, bobsledding and ice dancing.

Ah- there was also a flash lesson in auto care and maintenance, as my car wouldn’t start on Sunday or Monday morning- well, it did start, but not without heavy prompting, channeling of positive vibes and looking through the owner’s manual with a crooked brow. I think it was one part old battery that “needs replaced” (as they say in WV) and one part FRIGGEN FREEZING cold outside in the mornings. As in… my entire car was frozen solid because I parked in the shade. So cold that when I released the clutch after trying to start the car, it stayed completely engaged. Guess that’s why they plug in their cars in Alaska… Or maybe my battery just never fully recovered after “The Great Stuck- on-Snoqualmie-Pass-With-Lisa-Whilst-Running-All-Accessories-on-Full-Blast Capers of ‘05”??? The world will never know…

In any case, a trip to Sears is in order this weekend. And not the Softer Side. I hear DieHard’s are the way to go.

Is this irony or just plain crap?

J is supposed to be driving a desk these days, pushing paper etc. We just got to DC about a month ago (well, I did at least, he's been here for about 2 months). We're finally unpacked for the most part, I found a job that I like, things have been going swimmingly. This was supposed to be our time to finally be normal young people in love...

But he found out yesterday that he's getting deployed again. For a year. And he leaves soon. I have milk in the refrigerator that expires after he leaves. This time, he won't be on a ship traveling around through bad-guy waters, but actually on land in bad-guyville. You can imagine how thrilling this is to me.

As much as I've been wanting to scream "BUT YOU CAN'T DO THAT- THAT'S NOT THE WAY IT'S SUPPOSED TO GO!! HE JUST GOT HOME!" I realize that it really doesn't matter how/why/who this is all coming from. Regardless of why its happening, or how incredibly... not fair... it is, it's happening. And it very well could turn me into a bitter, bitter person. In theory, I should get pissed, I should be bitter, I should lead the protest march. I should help stick the "Step Down Bush" stickers all over DC.

But I don't want to be bitter and mad because that's not who I am. I like being happy. And I need that trait right now more than ever. I'll be damned if THIS ("this" being a very broad term here) is going to change my core. I've learned that, for me at least, having the capacity to be pissed at "The Man" is a luxury I don't have. For now at least.

And in response to a comment left on my last entry, yes, I did like McDreamy when he was just a nerd in Can't Buy Me Love. Duh...