Blonde Savant

They Only Have to Hit You Once

2011-04-07T13:42:00.002-04:00

To fully appreciate this story, you need to know a little about my dad. He's five foot three, Texan, and out of his damn mind. His nickname is Yosemite Sam, based on his penchant for muttering under his breath then breaking into loud cursing, and for his unfortunate facial hair choices. Plus, there's the gun thing (I did say Texan). He actually shot himself in the foot. Recently.
One of my dad's...hobbies, I guess you could say, is hunting rattlesnakes. He likes to catch them and make belts and hat bands and wallets made out of the skin. Like you do.
When I was around nine or ten...actually I may have been older. Sometime between age ten and fifteen. My dad took me, my brother Brian, my stepmom Toni, my aunt Linda and my cousin Danny on a camping trip somewhere in Kern County. We'd been there a few days, long enough that Dad had already caught a rattlesnake. Brian, Danny and I woke up early and wanted to go exploring. Linda was still sleeping off the night before, so my dad gave us the go ahead (Linda never would have let Danny go, she was way over protective).
The three of us set out up the nearby creek that ran down a pass between two mountains, strolling through the cold water and hopping from rock to rock. We hiked for a few hours, stopping to explore deep pools and catch salamanders. Once we got hungry, we unpacked our snacks and picnicked on some boulders, looking up at the mountains around us. As we were finishing up, one of us (I forget who) declared that they had seen a mountain lion on the top of the hill to our left. You don't take chances with that kind of thing, so up the hill to the right we went. We hiked about halfway up the hill and then started to make our way back to the campsite. We were up away from the cool water of the creek and quickly became hot and miserable, so we picked up our pace and in about an hour we were up on the hill behind our campsite, looking down on Dad, Toni and Linda, all of whom appeared to be freaking the fuck out. Dad was cursing and throwing things around while Linda and Toni were packing things into the trucks.
The three of us looked at each other and as one started running down the hill even though it was precariously steep. Once we reached the bottom, we all went into emergency mode. We'd had plenty of practice with the dad we grew up with. I managed to sync my packing up with Toni's and asked her, "What did he do?"
"Your idiot father got himself bit by that rattlesnake. Dumbass!" That last was directed at Dad.
"Hey, it's not my fault!" he responded.
"What the hell did you think would happen? You were playing with the damn thing and you're drunk."
"I was not playing with it, woman! I was boxing with it!"

That's right. My dad had decided that it would be fun to take a rattlesnake, set it on the ground in front of him, and whap it on the head with his fist. To see who was faster. He lost.

Easy as One, Two, Three

2011-02-15T15:20:00.000-05:00

I'm not sure that I want to post this. It's some pretty personal stuff that I'm not sure I feel entirely comfortable sharing in a public way. But I'm also not one to shy away from something out of fear. I do know that I need to write this all out. If you want to stick around and read, let me warn you. This is not funny stuff here. This is just me working things out.
Apparently I have anxiety. I probably knew that I did, somewhere in the back of my mind. Especially since I have a psych degree, after all. But my excuse for that is I focused on evolutionary and cognitive psychology. Now that I'm confronted with the fact, it's so obvious that I have anxiety. I have constant nervous behaviors (cracking knuckles, fiddling with my hair, tapping my feet, drumming my fingers, biting my lips, etc). And then there is what goes on inside my head. I overanalyze everything, to such a degree that I will have entire fictional conversations in my head based on an offhand comment.
I've always considered myself a fast thinker, joking that my hands can't keep up with my brain to explain my poor handwriting and typo-riddled typing. Is that part of my anxiety? Is that something I'll lose when my meds start to really work? I don't want to slow down my thoughts, I just want them to be more productive and let me focus on important things instead of reliving a conversation from two years ago and thinking about the things I wish I could have said.
I also wonder how much it will affect my memory. I've also always had a poor memory. I suspect that I have a short-term memory deficiency, but I've never been able to empirically confirm that. Most short-term memory tests utilize pattern memorization, which is something I'm quite good at, so getting an accurate assessment of my actual memory forming abilities is tricky. I do know from experience that I have a very hard time correlating events with when they happened. I can't say off the top of my head what year I graduated from college. I have to do the math, and even then I'm not positive. I can't tell you which year I moved to Florida, but I can tell you that I've lived here for a little over two years. But that sounds wrong to me, because I moved here in either September or November (that's another issue I have; keeping the months straight) so I've had three Christmases here and it feels more natural to say I've lived here for three years.
Are my issues with memory and time something that will be aided by medication? If so, I would welcome it. My life wouldn't be as entertaining, but I would be a lot more organized and functional.
It's not very likely that will happen though, since I'm pretty sure that I have mild dyscalculia and I'm equally sure that's unrelated to anxiety. I joke a lot about how I'm terrible at math, but the truth goes deeper than that. I can do quite well with algebra, because that is logic based. Any other math activities, like calculus or percentages or doing math in my head or even telling time on an analog clock just do not happen in my brain. I've tried to learn them over and over and they just do not make sense to me. I have never been able to do even simple addition or subtraction in my head. I have to use my fingers as an adult, which is beyond embarrassing. I've developed a very discrete way of doing it if I'm forced to in public, but if you watch closely you can see it. I can do most calculations if I'm given a pen and paper, but if you listen to what I say and compare it to what I write, nothing makes sense. I'll say "seven minus four" out loud, but I'll write "9 - 5" and either one of those can match what I'm supposed to be doing. Or not. Word problems are my nemesis.

2011-02-08T06:02:00.003-05:00

So last week I fell in the cafe at my work. Yes, I know you're absolutely shocked. This wasn't you're run-of-the-mill fall though, I managed to fall spectacularly in front of at least half of the "Response Team," the ones who help out during an emergency and are all Red Cross trained. Paired with the fact that I actually hurt myself a fair bit, there was no laughing it off. I did draw the line when they tried to get me into a wheelchair though. That was just excessive.

I spent the rest of the day icing my ankle, which I was concerned about because of how many times I've managed to sprain it before. I had already been feeling achy in general, and this fall situation certainly didn't help. Some medicinal wine when I got home did though. The next day, my ankle felt fine, but the rest of my body was in a fair bit of pain. At least it was Friday and I didn't have to hobble around in heels.

I was in enough pain to look into the side effects of my new medications, and sure enough joint pain was listed highly for the stuff I had for RLS. So I called the doctor and we're going to reevaluate. Super. Then I read this:

You should know that some people who took medications such as ropinirole developed gambling problems or other intense urges or behaviors that were compulsive or unusual for them.

Fantastic. I already think gambling's a little ridiculous and only fun if I'm playing poker with fake money. Were I to develop a gambling addiction, I would be pissed. I've already got a touch of OCD, I don't need it exacerbated, thanks.

My joint pain finally subsided enough for me to get back into my running program yesterday, which I really wanted to do because I was cranky as hell and needed an outlet. I got about halfway before my knee (opposite leg from the ankle I was worried about) decided to tell me to fuck off with this nonsense. Looks like that's what I should have been icing after that fall instead of the ankle. So now I get to go try and find a knee brace that will fit on my short little leg.

Growing Pains

2011-01-29T13:11:00.006-05:00

One of Mama's favorite stories to tell about me is from when she ran a daycare at home. There were always tons of other kids around. I was something of a ringleader and trouble maker, since I knew where all of the especially exciting areas of the yard were, like the Aqueduct of Doom. One day, a social worker was over doing some official observation type activity and Mama was sitting on the porch with her and talking while we played on the swing-set in the yard below. Our swing-set was one of those big wooden contraptions that had a bench swing and monkey bars and a fort and a slide. I had personally climbed over every inch of it.

That day I must have been bored with the normal attempt to swing over the bar or swing the bench hard enough to knock the whole thing over (which we never did accomplish). As Mama tells it, "I saw you bent over and dragging something, very intent on what you were doing and ignoring the other kids. I knew whatever it was would be bad, so I got up to stop you. The social worker put her hand on my arm and said,'Let's see what she's doing,' so I watched you for a minute. You started climbing the ladder for the slide, trying to drag whatever you had up behind you. I couldn't see what it was and I was getting nervous, so I headed over, the social worker protesting the whole time that this was fascinating and not to stop you. Good thing I didn't listen to her, because what you had was a big wheeler that you were hell bent on riding down the slide. I think you were four."

I've always been a fearless person when it comes to adventures. No, wait, that's not exactly right. Not fearless, not really. I still feel the fear, that heady rush of adrenaline that dilates your pupils and makes the blood pound in your ears and throat and makes your breath quicken. That flight-or-fight response is there. I just always choose fight.

The first clear memory I have of that intoxicating feeling is from when I was around 12 or 13 and camping in King's Canyon with Mama and Brian, my brother. There was a part of the nearby river nicknamed Party Rock and we went to investigate. Party Rock turned out to be a huge boulder that dropped straight down into a deep pool in the river. A bit of a crowd was hanging out and partying around the pool (hence the name) and taking turns daring each other to jump off the rock into the nearly freezing river below. After taking this all in, I remember that my brother and I just looked at each other, the challenge readable in our eyes, and raced for the top of the rock. At the top, we both paused to take in what we now faced: a twenty foot drop into icy cold water of unknown depth, but crystal clear enough to see the rocks that made up the riverbed. We shared another look, this time pure joy and anticipation on our faces, and leaped off the rock into the waiting river. The shock of the cold water burned my skin and then instantly froze it behind the burn. The breath was completely knocked out of me by the shock and my eyes flew open to take in the most amazing sight of my life. I could see clearly under the water. For someone who can barely see four inches past her own nose without glasses, the clear lines and bold colors of each rock and tiny pebble several feet away from me was beyond amazing. I didn't want to come back up to the surface, but the need for air drove me up and then the cold drove me out of the water. As the sun warmed my skin and feeling returned, I began to shiver. My brother looked at me questioningly; he had gotten out of the water as fast as possible. I simply said, "I could see," and began to climb up to the top of the rock again.

He followed me, grinning.

A recent comment thread on Imani's wall served to remind me that I did not have the most normal of childhoods, even though it seemed so while I lived it. I called Brian to share and remember and laugh over it with him. Our neighbors growing up were four boys who all owned BB and pellet guns. They lived in two story house with a pool and a trampoline. They also constructed a water slide made out of industrial sized PVC pipe. After I recounted to Brian how people were shocked that I lived through jumping off of a two-story roof onto a trampoline or into a pool or firing pellet guns or riding razor scooters down the pool slide, or any and all combinations thereof, he laughed and said, "Hell, that sounds like a weekend." The two of us have always had shared love of adventure and thrill-seeking. We were forever looking for the next challenge, the next rush of adrenaline.

One day when I was in college in Santa Barbara, I was walking on the pier with one of my roommates. I made an offhand comment that I was a little sad that it was winter and so cold, because I had a very strong urge to jump off the pier. My roommate laughed nervously and changed the subject. A few minutes later, my phone rang. It was Brian, which was highly unusual at the time. I answered, mentally preparing for bad news. I was confused for a moment by the laughing "Guess what I just did!" that greeted me.

"Well you obviously didn't break your leg again because you're laughing. Unless they already gave you drugs for it?"

"Hah! No, I didn't break anything this time."

"Well then what?"

"I just jumped off the Huntington Beach pier!"

I collapsed laughing, still standing on my own pier a few hundred miles north.

I have yet to jump off of anything of that great a height, or out of a plane, but I've always been a bit obsessed with heights. It's almost like I have the opposite of a fear of heights. Instead of cringing away from the edge and moving toward safety, my body seems to move closer to the edge of its own accord. I've heard "Sarah, get back from there!" more times than I can count. It's as though I just can't resist that breathless feeling of vertigo, that sense of nearness to danger. It draws me out, every time. I've even had it well up from within while standing at the top of a flight of stairs. I've leaned against the banister, feeling it creak in my hands and listened to the blood rush in my head as I pictured falling to the floor below.

Given that, it's no wonder that one of the places I actively sought out in Ireland was the Cliffs of Moher. Everywhere else I went in Ireland was mostly by wandering and going to places someone told me about that sounded fun. The two places I made a point to visit both involved heights (the other was the Blarney Stone). The Cliffs of Moher is one of the most photographed places in the world, and no wonder. Rising straight up out of the tumultuous Atlantic, the 700 foot (200m) high cliffs make the Cliffs of Insanity look tame. Often shrouded in mist, I was incredibly lucky to see them on a clear, bright day. The feeling I had of standing on the edge of the world is indescribable. I stood behind the low rock wall, meant to keep cows and drunks from bumbling off the cliff, completely transfixed by the sight.

Then a crow cawed near me and brought me back into my body.

My face hurt from smiling, but I couldn't stop. My heart pounding and my hands shaking,

I stepped over the wall. I felt as though I had crossed more than a physical boundary and time seemed to stop for a moment. Even the crying of the gulls and the pounding of the surf hundreds of feet below paused for just a second. Then sound returned and with it that familiar compulsion.

Closer. Closer. Closer.

I stepped forward, once, twice and leaned forward to look directly down the cliff face. My breath stopped and my heart pounded. It was enough to make even me move back. But that call was not satisfied.

Closer.

I sat down on the ground to keep myself from stepping forward again. Then I knew what to do. I laid down on my stomach and inched toward the edge, my body shaking. I kept my eyes shut until my shoulders were at the edge of the cliff.

Then I opened my eyes.

New Year

2011-01-13T20:07:00.003-05:00

It's one of my few family traditions that at the new year we look back over the past year and pick out the three best and three worst things that we experienced. We go over the worst things first so that we can appreciate the best things all the more. 2010 was a roller coaster year for me; some great things and some really horrible things happened.

The three worst things for me in 2010 were:
3. I was diagnosed with Reynaud's Syndrome. This means that even something as simple as drinking a soda or eating cold salami slices or even walking outside when it's chilly brings me pain and discomfort. And I have to wear socks all the time, which I hate. For a while when it was really cold here, I was even sleeping with gloves on because I have a hard time sleeping when the room is warm but my hands freak out if the room is cold. That really wasn't as awkward as I thought it would be though. And really, all things considered, if I had to choose a bizarre medical affliction, I could do a LOT worse.

2. I broke up with Ricardo. This was such a long, drawn out breakup that it really wore me down and left me emotionally exhausted for much of the year. Things all started in February and dragged on and on into October. I've gone over things elsewhere, so I'll just say that this had a major negative impact on most of my year.

1. I had to put Singe to sleep. Singe was my cat from the day she was born. I was there for it. She was the only black cat in a litter of tabbies. It was love at first sight. She slept with me almost every night once she was old enough to leave Mama Kitty, except one and a half years of college. Last year she developed an autoimmune skin disease, where an aggressive virus was causing her immune system to attack skin cells. She fought hard but the steroid regimen was too much for her. After being together for twelve years, I miss her so much that I can't even let myself think about it for more than two minutes without dissolving into a weeping mess. Like now.

The three best things for me in 2010 were:
3. I bought a new car. My first completely, 100% new car. Even having the ability to buy a new car is amazing for me. This purchase was also a major step in finishing my breakup, so it has double the symbolic representation for me. I absolutely love the feeling of freedom I get every time I pause and reflect that I have a car that is mine alone and I can go anywhere and do anything I want.

2. I spent around three months at the beginning of 2010 in Santa Barbara. Granted, it was for a crazy work project and I was majorly stressed out most of the time I was there. I still got to spend time with good friends and have fun and enjoy California for an extended period of time, which is something I never even thought I would be able to do for many years, if at all. It was bittersweet in the sense that I knew I would never be able to do that again, but that just made me appreciate the time I got to spend back home even more.

1. My trip to Texas to meet some amazing Pajibans. It started out as a bit of a joke, this trip. Then I checked out plane tickets on a whim and found an amazing deal and next thing I knew, I was face to face with some of the most awesome people I've ever met. Pajiban relationships are a strange thing to explain to anyone outside of our crazy little group. But I, for one, will take the trade off of seeming like more of a crazy person than I already am in exchange for this amazing group of friends I have spread out across the country; the world even. I know, without a doubt, that pretty much anywhere I could ever visit has at least one person that I would love to meet and hang out with. Being able to meet a whole bunch of them at the same time and see how similar or different they are in person versus online and have crazy adventures doing the simplest of things and just generally being nerds all over the place wasn't just one of the best things of 2010. I'm sure it's one of the best things of my life.

Back In The Game

2010-12-09T21:46:00.004-05:00

I just got back from my first speed dating experience. It was actually a lot more fun that I thought it would be. Of course, there was the token rude guy, and the token fucking awkward guy, and they guy that was way too old to be there, but we'll get to those.

I agreed to go mainly to support my friend and because what the hell else am I gonna do on a Thursday night? Plus, it's always fun to get dressed up, and it's really hard to meet anyone between 21 and 30 in this city unless you're in a bar screaming at them over the music. So at the very least, I knew I would meet interesting people. Whether I would be glad I met them...

Some of them, definitely glad I met. Like the really hot guy who was the only one to offer to buy me a drink when he saw my empty glass. Sadly, I couldn't take him up on that since I was driving. Also glad I met the adorable Russian guy (hello, amazing accent!) who was hilarious and joked about being in the mob in Kansas. Call me!

But enough about the good, let's get to what you're really here for. The shit talking.

First of all, who answers their phone in the middle of a date? Especially in speed dating, where you have six minutes per person! So, yeah, phone guy can kiss my ass.

Then there was the guy who wrote "technical" books, but refused to elaborate because clearly I would never read them. Pretentious douche. Who writes a book about the flavors of rice anyway? And he had a stupid hat.

Let's see...oh there was the super sweet guy who had just gotten out of college, and was kind of awkward about whatever job he had (I never did get it out of him). Any job is a good job right now, kid.

But he wasn't nearly as awkward as The Awkward Guy. Oh my god, this guy was ridiculous. He kind of looked like the guy from Legally Blonde, you know the one that Elle goes up to and slaps across the face and pretends to be upset that he never called her after the best pleasure she had ever know? That guy. It's a very good thing that I can babble my head off at the drop of a hat, because that was a challenge, even for me. He seemed to have an inability to say anything beyond "That's interesting" or "I feel the same way." And he was drinking a glass of merlot, but he only took a drink when I did (which was frequently in that little interaction). Mirroring doesn't work when it freaks the fuck out of the person you are mirroring. So. Awkward. It was the longest six minutes of the night.

He was even more awkward than the guy who just so happened to have a twelve year old.

Basketcase

2010-10-27T22:16:00.004-04:00

I have really intense, vivid dreams in general. Last night was no exception. I jotted down the bits I could remember before they were lost in the mist so I could look them up in my dream book later. I like to use the dream book for entertainment purposes only, and by no means do I believe anything it says. However. This would freak out the most rational person in the world:

Finding something: Loss in business.

Finding valuable article: Big misfortunes in business.

Finding money: Danger and business loss.

Digging in loose soil: Plans will succeed.

Others being dirty: Illness in the family.

Of the marijuana plant: Will be melancholy.

Smoking marijuana: Will dream of unattainable things.

Eyes being wide open: A change in life will come soon.

The color gray: Will receive a letter with news.

Other famous people: Sorrow is about to come.

Of a restaurant: Bad health.

Eating at a restaurant: Health is not very good.

Of cheese: Worry caused by own hasty actions.

Of a skirt: Will be lazy.

Black iron: Will be cheated by friends.

An empty table: Will fall into poverty.

Eating a piece of cake: Will lose sweetheart.

Of eating: You are being deceived.

Eating on the floor: Somebody will take something away from you.

Eating fat things: Warning of an illness to come.

Avoiding danger: Troubles will come to you.

Can I panic now?

Been A Long, Lonely Time

2010-10-18T13:13:00.001-04:00

After five months of no physical contact aside from perfunctory pecks hello and goodbye, and three months of almost no conversation that didn't lead to a fight, I concluded that Ricardo and I should break up. Especially since it was just in February that I already brought up the subject of breaking up.I told him my thoughts and desire for him to move out on a Sunday a few weeks ago. It led to a discussion of things that he has been upset about with me, but hadn't bothered to talk to me about. Things that he found out by going through my phone or other not nice techniques. I pointed out that he'd never brought any of these things that he was upset about to my attention, instead he just closed himself off from me and punished me for them. He felt particularly bad when I pointed out the lack of contact between us. That night he went about professing his love for me and trying to cuddle me, which was completely not fair and I pointed out how unfair it was for him to basically ignore me for five months and then think that a hug could make everything ok.The following Monday I came home to a spotless house, Gerber daisies in various locations, even bathed rats. He then started to prepare dinner and got very sidetracked by telling me how he was positive that everything would be ok between us and that he could fix the problems and make things better. Basically everything I wanted to hear. I countered that it's very easy to say you can do something, but these are the same problems we had when I wanted to break up in February, and why were they still problems? At that point he was begging me not to break up, so I ran away and did some laundry and called Teresa. She advised me to sleep on things and Ricardo was thankfully quiet on the subject when I went back to the apartment.The next day was even worse. He was literally on his knees, crying and pleading with me to stay together. I ended up yelling at him quite a bit and repeating that there was no way I could possibly agree to stay together based on him promising me he can fix these issues. Pressed for time ( I was meeting coworkers for dinner) I told him to focus his crazy energy on actually doing what he was telling me he could do, instead of just repeating it over and over.So far that's what he's been doing. I know he's on his best behavior though. If it were possible for him to maintain his current behavior...well I just don't think it is. And even if he can, I'm really not sure what I want at this point. It is very tempting to give him another chance and see if we can make this work, especially with how nice he's being now. But the logical side of me wonders how long it will be before these old habits and trust issues crop up again and we end up in the same situation. I don't want to waste any more time on this if we aren't going to work out.

Hell is Other People

2010-07-06T14:49:00.001-04:00

I sit next to one of the most annoying creatures to ever exist in a working environment. She's constantly making a ton of noise. She's usually clearing her throat incessantly, tapping her feet on the plastic floor thing under her chair, and banging on her keyboard so hard that it sounds like she's using a typewriter from the 50s. This constant barrage of noise is accentuated by the continuous stream of babble from her mouth. She talks to me, others who sit over here, her emails, her computer, herself...just a stream of vocal diarrhea from the moment she gets here to the moment she leaves. Oh, and of course, she talks on the phone, but it's not really talking so much as screaming at the top of her lungs. When she does have a question or comment for one of us, it's usually preceded by a long, high-pitched "Uuummmmmmmm". I can't even begin to describe the upwelling of rage I experience every time I hear this noise. It heralds one of the following events:1. An announcement that she has sent one of us an email. You can imagine how annoying that is seventeen times a day. 2. A question that she will begin in the middle of her train of thought, without any reference to any pertinent information. Like "Have you worked on this before?" without indicating who she's directing the question at or what "this" is supposed to mean.3. Asking the most asinine questions. The kind where, if she stopped and used her tiny, feeble brain for one second, wouldn't even be a question. Like coming up to me, pointing at the coffee pot and asking if there's any coffee left. I don't know! I can't see through it any more than she can! All I'm going to do is look inside to assess the amount of coffee available, but she can't seem to make that connection. Even better is when I understand her question and start to answer, only for her to just keep right on talking as though I didn't just tell her the answer in two seconds flat. There are no yes or no questions in her world, so she has to explain every little insignificant detail of every little thing. If I ask her a question on IM because I don't want to listen to her yapping, she walks into my cube to discuss it! Or she'll pop her head over our shared cube wall, banging her huge wedding band on the metal piece at the top and scaring the bejesus out of me every time, share some inane bit of information that doesn't even apply to me, and close it out with "Just FYI!" but she clearly has no grasp of the meaning if FYI, since she will forward me emails with things I have to do, but type at the top "FYI". WRONG.

Book 9: Ceres Storm by David Herter

2010-03-07T13:32:00.004-05:00

This book is the complete opposite of the last one I reviewed. This is a perfect example of when the prose gets in the way of the story. Ceres Storm is so full of jargon and convoluted descriptions that I'm not at all clear on most of the plot.

There was a boy, who was also his own uncle and grandfather, and the grandfather was a machine who's soul was at one point in a tree, and before that he was the ruler of Earth and Mars. I think. And somehow the boy saves the universe by blowing up Charon, Pluto's moon. A lot of other things happened as well, I just have no idea what they really were.

Just to show how hard this book is trying (and that seems to be the main problem to me, it's just trying way too hard), here is a description of a sunset:

The afternoon dwindled to a vague silver-blue on his eyelids, to the specks of dust floating in his tears, brittle and translucent, twitching as he turned his eyes left and right, settling for a time while the silver-blue deepened, gained dimension.

That passage is one of the more easily understood things in this novel. I don't have any objection to a novel being a challenge to read. But what has happened here is that the author has pushed the novel out of the realm of enjoyment. Novels that are written in a dense language where every word is fraught with meaning can be a joy to read. This novel is awkward and clunky, like someone got overzealous with a thesaurus.

Book 8: The Island of the Day Before by Umberto Eco

2010-02-23T01:23:00.004-05:00

Filled with tangled and twisting plot lines, this novel is a challenge to read, but an incredibly rewarding one. The rich writing style of Eco breaths life and vibrancy into a story that would have left me cold were it written by anyone else. Much shorter than his other novels (especially The Name of the Rose), The Island of the Day Before is a tightly woven tapestry of intersecting lives, religions, cultures, and even times.

The main story, if one can really be picked out, is the life of Roberto della Griva, a 17th century Italian nobleman. After his ship sinks in a storm, Roberto finds himself floating next to a different, seemingly abandoned ship. Interspersed throughout Roberto's actions aboard the mystery ship are Roberto's memories of his childhood, the war he fought in, the time he spent in France learning about astronomy and sailing, his mission to find the International Date Line, his loves, and his fears.

This is where Eco's superb ability in storytelling turns this novel from something merely interesting into something spellbinding. Described as an Italian medievalist, semiotician, philosopher, literary critic and novelist (He really is just amazing.), the things that Eco is able to do with words are beyond description. If you love words for the sheer beauty that they can create, you absolutely must read this novel. The thing that sets him apart from other word smiths though, is that Eco maintains a compelling story throughout his amazing wordplay. In one short sentence, Eco tells us, through Roberto, the idea that gave life to this novel:

To survive, we must tell stories."

Book 7: Battle Royale by Koushun Takami

2010-02-23T00:20:00.005-05:00

I first read this novel when I was traveling around the UK several years ago. I literally did not put it down from the time I opened it until I finished it. Reading it the second time around, I found it just as compelling. If you haven't read it yet, I cannot recommend it enough.

The story is fairly dark and twisted. In an alternate version of Japan, middle school students are forced to participate in a murderous version of king-of-the-hill. The children are drugged and transported to an island. When they wake up, they are instructed about the rules of the program and given random weapons. The rules are very simply: kill your classmates, your friends. The last kid standing wins.

What makes this novel so compelling is the insight into the characters. The writing style is simple, even sparse at points. I find that this accentuates the story incredibly well. The writing doesn't get in the way of what is being conveyed, if that makes sense. Takami provides an incredibly clear and in-depth look into the characters, their motivations, their fears, their selves.

Another reason that I find this novel so compelling is that I'm a psych major. The range of reactions that the students have to the situation that they're thrust into is truly fascinating, even if you've only taken Psych 101. There are characters from all walks of life and each of them reacts in a way that makes sense based on their background and the aspects of their personalities that Takami gives them.

The other overarching theme is a political one. Through his characters, Takami discusses government corruption, western influence on eastern cultures, rebellion against an oppressive government, as well as active participation and support of an oppressive government. While this confluence of ideas could bash you in the head, à la Margaret Atwood, Takami's understated style kept me reading instead of rolling my eyes and sighing that "I get it already."

Book 6: Rachael and Leah by Orson Scott Card

2010-01-17T15:25:00.004-05:00

When I was growing up, I went to church nearly every day. Our church was a nondenominational Christian church, Calvary Chapel. For the area, it was a pretty progressive church. Our pastor was a former drug addict and frequently used stories from that time in his life when he was giving a sermon. In general though, the members of the church were some of the more hypocritical and judgmental people I have ever known. I have seen how religion can bring out the best in people and how it can give people an excuse to exercise their most vicious tendencies.

After I was old enough to hold a job, I stopped going to church every day due to the time conflict. And I found that I didn't really miss it. By the time I was a junior in high school, I had concluded that Christianity was not for me. I explored other religions, and while I found that most of them have a lot of good qualities, those good things were usually tied to some sort of subjugation of myself that I found unacceptable. In the end, I never found a religion that fit what I was looking for. I don't feel as though I have something missing in my life, but I do sometimes feel nostalgic for the comfort I got from my church as a child.

This is where Rachael and Leah comes into play. Not many people know that Orson Scott Card is Mormon and has written many religious book and plays, but I am one of those people who falls in love with the way a person writes and goes digging for everything they have ever written. After reading Ender's Game, I continued with all of the books in that series, and then I kept going. The more I read, the more I found he had written. When I learned that he had written a series of religious fiction novels, I was apprehensive at first. But I was determined not to judge before I knew what I was talking about, so I picked up Sarah, the first book in his "Women of Genesis" series. The title of the book helped. I kept going and read Rebekah and then Rachael and Leah. It is this last novel that is executed the best of the three. Card's straightforward way of telling a story dovetails nicely with this ancient tale of sibling rivalry, love and faith.

The story is told from four points of view, the sisters Rachael and Leah, and two girls who end up as handmaids for the sisters. Their observations and interpretations of the events around them give new life to a story that many people know by rote. Card gives the characters motivations that have little to do with religion and more to do with being a young woman in a very strict culture living in a very harsh land. At the beginning of the novel, motherless sisters Rachael and Leah constantly fight and both walk all over their clueless father. When Jacob arrives, his personal faith helps the sisters reconcile and both grow up to become caring women in the seven years that Jacob works for their father.

The novel ends with the wedding of Leah to Jacob in place of her sister. This is the part of the story that I have the most trouble with. Card has the switch of the sisters play out like a slapstick comedy with Jacob as the butt of the joke. I find that it doesn't really fit with the tone of the rest of the novel. He does stay true to the original story in that Jacob ends up married to both sisters, but I feel that this conclusion could have been reached in a way that did not require Jacob and the father to become complete morons.

Overall though, while it has it's flaws, I find that reading Rachael and Leah when I feel nostalgic to be a great comfort. It reminds me of the good that religion can bring out in people, and the positive changes that it can motivate.

Book 5: Dune Prophet by Frank Herbet

2009-12-13T21:18:00.000-05:00

I have been dreading writing this review. I did not care for this book at all. As an intellectual exercise, it serves a purpose. The universe of the book is well constructed and solid. The style of writing is one that I actually gravitate toward. But as an enjoyable read, for me it fails utterly. Everything had a sort of clinical distance to it, a sort of coldness that made it hard to relate to the characters. This was one of my biggest issues with this book. In the previous book, the characters were more relatable, more human. In this one, it's as though the author is just reporting events that happened with little to no insight into their reasoning or development. Yes, we do get an inner monologue for Paul and Alia, but it is fairly limited to their observations of the events they witness and descriptions of what their visions are like, but not much actual content. We are also told over and over that their "powers" are limited, but the only real evidence of this is what ends up happening to Chani. Granted, that was a huge blow to Paul, but I still question why it was completely out of the question to make her a ghola, aside from the possibility that she would not turn back into herself. The question of her posing a danger to Paul seemed bizarre after Paul was successful with Duncan Idaho, who posed a greater threat to Paul than Chani could.
That is a minor point though compared to my major complaint with this book. The Bene Tleilex. I mean, really. You are, in all seriousness, explaining the existence of the apparent nemeses of the Bene Gesserit, even though they did not exist at all in the first book. Where did they come from? The whole thing just screams plot device to me. And not even a good one. When you have an enemy that can change their appearance at will and create analogs of people that were dead, can even raise the dead, then you essentially have a group with unlimited power. Then you have to beat this enemy by being even more powerful.
I am a firm believer in limitations. Limitations are a catalyst of creativity. Without limitations it is very difficult to avoid a stagnant story. That's how I feel about Dune Prophet; it's stagnant. Reading it felt like I was treading water. I want a story that pulls at me like ocean tides. This was a chore to trudge through.

Book 4: Captive Bride by Johanna Lindsey

2009-11-29T13:48:00.000-05:00

When I first figured out that I really was sick, not just hungover, I headed to the store to stock up on various medicine and cough drops and tissues and whatnot. I also came to the conclusion that all of the books that I currently had lined up to read were way too hard to concentrate on. So I did what any disease-wracked person wandering aimlessly around the drug store would do; I grabbed a trashy romance novel to distract me. My criteria was very simple: NO SCOTTISH ACCENTS! For some reason, the majority of these ridiculous books are set in Scotland, Ireland or England. Either that or The South, with horses, and yet somehow still with Scottish accents. The last romance novel I read was on some Scottish island and the characters spoke in random Scottish accents and it drove me insane.

So I skipped over the covers with castles on them, and grabbed Captive Bride because there is an Arabian Nights sort of theme to the cover art. The back talks about how Christina Wakefield (yes, Wakefield, we'll get to that in a minute) can't resist the call of the Arabian desert and gets captured by a sheik and then falls in love with him (hello, Stockholm Syndrome). Sounds racy and totally free of anything related to northwestern Europe, right? WRONG!

First of all, Christina is English. Secondly, her goddamn housekeeper/nanny is fucking Scottish, accent and all. If I wasn't so weak from being sick, I would have chucked the book across the room. Also, as far as romance novels go, this one is seriously lacking in the sex department. There is only one actual written sex scene. ONE. The rest of the sex is just implied, like "Phillip patiently brought her to life, snatching away her will as he did every night." That's it. That's the majority of the "sex scenes" in this stupid book. Oh, and Phillip? He would be the sheik that kidnaps her and is also English! Seriously, why is everyone English or Scottish in these damn books?

I guess I should be sort of glad that there weren't more descriptive sex scenes, since Christina's last name was Wakefield. All I could think about whenever I was reminded of her last name was Sweet Valley High and the Wakefield twins. I mean, really, if you're going to write a romance novel, you might not want to name your character after other characters who are sort of ingrained in the minds of a likely significant portion of your target audience.

Book 3: Slaughterhouse Five by Kurt Vonnegut

2009-11-28T21:16:00.002-05:00

I didn't really know what to expect when I picked this book up. I've never read Vonnegut before, and I know that a lot of people consider this book the greatest thing ever, even getting quotes from it as tattoos. Whatever I could have expected, it certainly was not what I got. I can certainly say that I liked it, but I wouldn't go so far as to say that it was the greatest thing ever written. It's got a nice jumbled, rambling feel to it, sort of like having a long conversation with your favorite uncle when you're both a little drunk and it's two in the morning so things make a certain kind of sense that they wouldn't at any other time.

One of the most unexpected things for me was the sudden appearance of sci-fi elements. They time-traveling and the aliens seem almost glaringly out of place in this book, but only at first. Once you get into the rhythm of the story and the message that it conveys, these elements make complete sense.

There are also a lot of different topics packed into Slaughterhouse Five, but they are only hinted at and not thrust into your face. Some of the topics even contradict each other, the main example being that there is an anti-war sentiment alongside a pro-war sentiment. I am actually glad that I never read and analyzed this for any class, because I think I would have ended up disliking it. This way I can reflect and re-read it at my own pace and pull things out of it without any pressure.

Adventures in Stupidity

2009-11-18T13:28:00.003-05:00

Scene at the bank.

Cast:

Me-Myself

Bank Teller-Twentysomething blonde girl with entirely too much makeup on

Bank Teller: What's your job title?

Me: Um, what?

Bank Teller: Oh, we have to ask you what your job title is now.

Me: Oh, ok. I don't think it will be in you list. Regulatory Affairs Associate.

Bank Teller: [clicks mouse a few times] Hmm...I can pick "other". How about that?

Me: Sure, whatever.

Bank Teller: Ok, I have to type in a description. What did you say again?

Me: [slowly] Regulatory. Associate.

Bank Teller: Hmm, that doesn't fit. Oh , I know! [types while spelling] R-E-G...A-S-S. There!

That's right. I am a Reg Ass. Good job.

Book 2: Transformation by Carol Berg

2009-11-07T12:09:00.000-05:00

At 506 pages, this book seems longer than it is. This is due in large part to the simple, straightforward style the author uses to tell the story. The story itself is a fairly typical fantasy epic. There is an empire, ruled by a hard fighting warrior class, the Derzhi, whose society has roots in the nomadic tribes of the desert. There are several other "races" in the story aside from the ruling Derzhi. One of these races are the Ezzarians, who were conquered by the Derzhi. The story begins on the day that the narrator, an Ezzarian named Seyonne, was sold as a slave to the crown prince of the Derzhi empire, Aleksander.
The story is told through the first person perspective of Seyonne, the Ezzarian slave, as he uncovers a plot against the empire. through flashbacks to his former life, we learn that the Ezzarians were sort of guardians of human souls in a battle against demons. Seyonne becomes aware that certain members of the royal court are infected with demons. He takes it upon himself to protect the prince, in spite of Aleksander's arrogance and cruelty. As they uncover more of the demon plot, Aleksander and Seyonne escape into the wild to seek out the help of a hidden community of Ezzarians.
Both characters experience inner battles, both figuratively, as they face situations they greatly fear and take responsibility for their actions, and literally, as when Seyonne enters Aleksander's soul to battle the demon that has infected him. Both characters push and pull each other to become more than what they were, and each comes into his own as a result.
I have read Transformation before and I still find that it's an easy and enjoyable read. I tend to pick it up when I am bored with whatever I am currently reading and want to escape into another reality with ease. I also just noticed this very moment that "Book One of the Rai-Kirah" is stated on the cover.

Book 1: Dune by Frank Herbert

2009-11-05T07:00:00.000-05:00

I've heard a lot of friends talk about the Dune books in way that reflected their deep love of the series as well as their inability to articulate just what it is about the series that they love so much, what keeps them coming back for more. It's a love of books that I understand completely. I find myself being drawn in by the style an author uses, to the point of seeking out every obscure thing that they have written, even under pseudonyms.
And, as much as I want it to, Dune is not speaking to me. Don't get me wrong, I don't dislike the book. The story is a great epic, I like most of the characters, the writing is good with the bonus of being unique in style. But I am not experiencing that thing, that compulsion to read the next book, to see what happens next. I've been mulling over this, trying to find a specific point where the story lost me, and I'm having a difficult time coming up with any particular thing. It's almost like I'm experiencing the opposite of the compulsion to read more. I don't hate it, I just kind of don't care. I find it strange that I can identify all of the elements that I did like about the book, I can't point my finger at anything I didn't like, but I still wouldn't say that I liked it.
I do believe in giving a story a chance to develop and grow, so I intend to continue reading the series. It certainly has all of the elements working in it's favor, the most important of which is that the author does not feel compelled to explain things to me. Nothing piques my interest more than when information is withheld from me, and this is something that Herbert is great at. He drops you into this huge world and expects you to pay attention. I can even deal with the use of jargon, which I normally detest, because it doesn't cross the line from making up a word for something that doesn't exist in our universe to renaming an existing object just because you can. But it remains to be seen if this story can take root in my mind and grab on.

Going Through the Motions

2009-08-23T12:16:00.003-04:00

I have been in such a funk lately. I don't even know why really. Every time in the past month or so that I've thought about writing a new post, I just sighed heavily and did something else instead. So today I'm forcing myslef to get over it and write something.
The main thing, I think, is that my life has become pretty much unchanging from one day to the next. That isn't conducive to telling stories, which is what I love to do. Right now, my life is: get up, go to work, come home, read/watch TV, sleep, get up, do it all again. Weekends don't really bring that much variation. I'm either too broke to go do something fun, or I have no one to do anything with.
I'm trying to find an apartment in a different part of town, so hopefully that will put me in a situation that is better for meeting new people and hanging out with friends. There are places available, it's just that none of them are inside of the area I want to live in. Everything available right now is on the edges of the neighborhood. I want to live in the middle. So I'm waiting and looking and waiting and looking. There is one place that looks like it would be awesome, but of course, they don't allow pets.
Speaking of pets, I have a sort of funny story about Singe. I took her to the vet again last week for a checkup. There was a new technician who had never seen Singe before (and who also looked like Pauly Shore). He asked me how she was doing, and I responded that she's doing really well. He gave me a strange look and told me that the vet would be in shortly. A few minutes later I heard her laughing right before she came in the room. She said to Pauly, "Beauty is in the eye of the beholder. If you had seen this cat two months ago, you would believe that she looks great now." I took a more critical look at Singe. Here's what you would see if this is the first time you looked at her: a 20 pound cat with a cone on her head and a three inch wide circular wound on her right flank, as well as a weird bunch of scar tissue up and down her right flank. Yes, doing really well indeed. But compared to even one month ago? She really is doing amazingly well. She has bounced back from an L-form infection in her skin that had been making her body so crazy that she was developing autoimmune dermatitis. If it had remained untreated, her skin would basically have started sloughing off. No, thank you. So far, the only adverse reactions she's had to being pumped full of antibiotics and steroids is a very occasional puke. When considering that the possible outcomes included her not recovering at all or developing diabetes, she really is doing amazingly well.
But other than taking care of Singe and working, I don't have a whole lot going on to write about here. I mean, sure I see gross people at Wal-Mart, but I text about that to the three people who read this, so retelling those little stories seems redundant. I tried giving myself assignments for projects, but you can see how well that's gone. I just don't have a whole lot to talk about here.

Cabin Fever

2009-08-15T12:01:00.003-04:00

Once again, it's raining and thus my plans for the day will not come to fruition. This is happening now with such regularity that it's becoming maddening. I wanted to go over to the area I'm trying to move to and look at apartments for rent. Granted, I still could, it just wouldn't do me much good to try and see things in the pouring rain while driving. After that, I wanted to head out to the beach and chill for a while. Again, I technically still can go out to the beach. As long as I don't mind getting rained on while I'm trying to relax. Yeah, doesn't sound like so much fun to me.
The truly frustrating part of all this damn rain is that it always seems to be raining when Ricardo is home. So we don't really get to do much in that time. Yeah, we could go see movies, but we're trying to save up money. That doesn't work too well with most indoor activities.

Maybe I'll just go to Panera and read that stuff for my work all day...

Well Hello

2009-07-22T09:03:00.002-04:00

I haven't written anything in a while, so here are some random updates.

The biggest thing I've been dealing with recently is Singe's mysterious illness. A sample of the tissue that the vet removed from her leg was sent out for lab analysis and came back negative for damn near everything that we thought could have been causing the problem. What it did pick up is that Singe has autoimmune dermatitis. That means that her immune system is not recognizing her own skin and is attacking skin cells as though they were an infection. The vet's theory is that Singe has a micro-infection, and the antibiotics that she was on previously were not able to get to the source since it is behind a bunch of scar tissue and jacked up tissue in general. Now she is on a new, very strong antibiotic as well as a regimen of one week on, one week off of steroids. And she still has a cone on her head. It's very fun times at our house right now.

In completely unrelated news, I am trying to move again. Keep your fingers crossed for me.

Other than those things, my life is boring. I need some friends over here. Badly.

Purple Giraffe

2009-07-05T07:34:00.002-04:00

Airdate 9/26/05
"Ted throws a party in hopes of seeing Robin again, but when she doesn't show up, he throws another party...and another. Meanwhile, Lily's heightened libido prevents Marshall from getting his work done."

Theme song!

The year 2030. SagetTed asks the kids where he was. This makes it seem like he's telling this story over the course of several days. Who does that? The girl reminds her dad that he was telling them how he met their mother. “In excruciating detail,” the son pipes up. Shush son, and get your feet off the table. Another clue that this is a different day is that the girl is no longer wearing those hideous tights. She actually looks normal in a pink sweater layered over a purple top and some dark khakis. SagetTed jumps back into the story by reminding us that when he was 27, Marshall and Lily got engaged. We see that again in a flashback. This made Ted think that he should get married, since everyone else was. I bet Ted would jump off a cliff if his friends were doing it. Anyway. Ted saw Robin, she was incredible, Barney played Have you met Ted?, Ted and Robin went out, Ted told Robin he loved her. “Oh, Dad...” the daughter comments as she puts her head in her hand. I wish I knew these kids names. According to IMDB, they are Son and Daughter. That is messed up. I think I'll just give them names. The son will be Ted Jr. and the daughter will be...Dora. Get it? Moving on. Ted Jr. asks what happened next. Nothing, that's what. One week went by and Ted decided that he was not going to call Robin. Marshall, incredulous, says “So, you're not gonna call her? You went from 'I think I'm in love with you' to 'I'm not gonna call her'?” Ted protests that he was never in love with Robin, he was in love with the idea of getting married, only he uses a lot more words. As they approach the booth at the bar that Robin is sitting is, Ted says that it had absolutely nothing to do with Robin. Then he notices her and looks at Lily, who is sitting across from Robin. Lily excitedly tells them how she bumped into Robin. Ted asks how long they've been hanging out, and Robin indicates the top of her now empty glass and says, “Since about here.” Marshall leans over the table to Lily and starts making out with her pretty intensely, eliciting a “Hello, sailor!” from Robin. Ted explains how they just got engaged. Lily waggles her ring at Robin from the back of Marshall's head. Robin gets up to go back to work, and Lily and Marshall each raise a hand to wave at her without breaking mouth-cial contact. Robin tells Ted it was nice to see him. Ted agrees. As Robin leaves, Barney checks out her ass. Of course he does. Ted sits down in the booth with a “Dammit!”. Lily, free from Marshall trying to eat her face, asks what. He says that he's in love with Robin. Barney, beers in hand, smacks him on the head (hee!) and yells “No! As your sponsor, I will not let you relapse. You blew it, it's over, move on!” Ted says that he has a feeling that Robin is the future Mrs. Ted Mosby. Ugh, not this again. Lily squeaks (no really) and clamps her hand over her mouth. Marshall and Barney smile at her and Ted calls her out. Lily shakes her head, hand still clamped over her mouth. Ted concludes that Robin said something about him to Lily. He demands “C'mon, spill it Red!” and she caves, revealing that Robin called him “something else”. Ted spins that as good, and the fact that he comes on strong as part of his charm. In a flashback, Lily does the same. Robin talks Ted up to Lily as sweet and charming (and not at all creepy, like I would say), but that he's looking for something serious and Robin doesn't want anything beyond a casual relationship. Robin asks that this conversation stay between her and Lily. Lily reassures her with, “This flapper? Fort Knox.” Um, yeah, not so much. Current Lily realizes this with an oops. Ted's off and running with the concept that Robin wants something casual. He declares that he will be a “mushroom cloud of casual”. The gang looks impressed. Ted explains that he's doing this because “it's a game.” Apparently, Ted wanted to skip to the end and get married, but now he sees that he won't get there unless he plays the game. I think Ted played The Game of Life one too many times as a child. Marshall wants to know if Ted is going to ask Robin out. At first Ted agrees, then immediately says no, because that wouldn't be casual. Ted wants to know how he can ask Robin out without asking her out. The gang ponders. Barney's head tilt is particularly amusing. Lily quite reasonably wants to know if they are high. Ted has a solution. He will invite Robin to their party next Friday. Marshall is excited that they are throwing a party. Ted says the word casual again. Barney points out how non-casual it is to invite over a hundred people just to hook up with one girl. He then turns to Lily and says, “that's my leg.” Lily is upset that he waited five minutes to tell her that. Marshall tells Ted to call Robin, but Ted says that calling her would not be casual and that he needs to arrange a chance meeting where he can accidentally-on-purpose run into her and invite her to the party. I'm not gonna rag on Ted for this, because I have totally arranged such meetings myself. Don't lie, you have too. Lily knocks on him, calling him “the most casual stalker ever,” which gets a snort out of Marshall.

Up in the apartment, some time later, Marshall is working on his laptop at the table while Lily is sitting across from his playing with her ring. SagetTed tells us that ever since they got engaged, Lily and Marshall had been a lot hornier than normal. Only he says it somewhat more politely, since he's talking to his kids. Seriously, how old are those kids? Marshall protests to Lily's suggestive looks, saying that he has a twenty-five page paper on Constitutional Law due on Monday and he's barely started. I'll bet five bucks that the computer Marshall is looking at has the script for this scene on it. Lily says that she isn't doing anything besides sitting there wearing her ring. Then she goes on for a bit about how wearing the ring makes wearing other things like her shirt seem wrong. Then she throws out that she's not wearing panties, “not even slightly”, like, can you be “slightly” wearing underwear? Ted busts into the conversation with, “Guys! Boundaries!” Seriously. Then Ted sees Robin on the news, reporting from a convenience store where a little boy has gotten himself stuck in one of those claw machines with the stuffed animals. Ted gets the location (75th and Columbus) and takes off, yelling “Game on!” on his way out the door. We transport through the TV to Robin in the store, reporting, and Ted running through New York. Ted pops into the shot with a grin that quickly fades when he realizes that he is in the shot. He ducks out as Robin wraps up the story. We pan over to see a very sweaty Ted trying to look like he is casually browsing the aisles. Robin sees him and asks him what he's doing there. Ted says that he's shopping for dip because he loves dip. Then he fumbles, and says that he likes dip as a friend. He asks Robin if she's reporting a news story, and she shows him the kid stuck in the crane machine and says that it's sweet of him to call it news. Ted chastises the kid for not playing the game like everyone else, and the kid points out that Ted is all sweaty. Ted turns back to Robin and mentions the party, inviting Robin to “swing by” or “whatever” next Friday. The way he says “whatever” is ridiculous, all drawn out and looking up in the air. Whatever indeed, Ted. Robin says that she can't make it, since she's going out of town next Friday. Ted changes the party to tonight, covering his story by saying that he's been saying next Friday all week, but the party is actually tonight. He says “whatever” again. Guh.
Slide screen over to Marshall and Lily, cuddled up in bed, post-coital. Marshall answers Ted's call, and we see a split screen with Ted in the store holding about ten cans of dip. Ted asks if he's interrupting, but Marshall tells him that he's writing his paper. Ted, not buying it, tells Lily and Marshall to get dressed, because the party has changed to tonight and hangs up on a confused Marshall.
Fade in to the apartment,which is packed full of people, mostly guys. People are chatting and good times are being had. Marshall asks Ted what he's going to do when Robin shows up calling Ted “Gatsby.” Ted wishes. Ted has it all planned out. Cut to Robin coming in the door in a sexy red dress. Ted voice-overs, along with some “sexy” jazz saxophone, that he will be across the room when Robin shows up, “showing some foxy young thang my cool architecture stuff.” Imaginary Ted waves around various drafting tools. In Ted's imagination, there are a lot more women at this party. Imaginary Robin approaches Imaginary Ted and he says hey. Imaginary Robin says hey back, but it's Ted doing her voice while she mouths the word. This cracked me up. As did Ted-voiced Robin saying, “Nice place, et cetera, et cetera.” Imaginary Ted tells Imaginary Robin to make herself at home and returns to his conversation with Foxy Young Thang. An hour later, Imaginary Ted approaches Imaginary Robin, sitting at the window. He says, “Oh, you're still here?” like he doesn't really care but it's a nice surprise (according to real Ted). Imaginary Ted then invites Imaginary Robin up to the roof, very “casually”, if by “casually” you mean “obviously wants to get her naked-y”. Back in reality, Lily and Marshall say “the roof”, all knowing. Ted says that if he can get Robin up to the roof, the roof will take care of the rest. Barney wants to know what's so special about the roof, and Lily and Marshall fill him in. Apparently the moon, the stars, the lights, and the view create a powerful recipe for romance. Marshall says they do it up there sometimes. Dude, did we not discuss boundaries already? Barney tells Ted that he likes his plan, calling him “my little friend”. Ted corrects him that they're the same height. That made me giggle. Barney suggests one small change to Ted's plan. Instead of chasing after Robin, Ted should take the Foxy Young Thang up to the roof and have “crazy monkey sex” with her. Back in Ted's Imaginary Party, Imaginary Ted protests that that is not the plan. Barney tells him that it should be and demands that Imaginary Ted look at Foxy Young Thang. Imaginary Ted does as Barney calls her smokin'. Foxy Young Thang and her nipples turn and say thank you. Imaginary Ted points out that she's not Robin. Back in reality, Barney says that is the point. He asks Ted to “rap”, and I have a brief hope that he is actually doing to start rapping. My hopes are dashed though, as all Barney does is quote a statistic that there is one woman at every New York party who does not know anyone there. Barney wants to know if Ted sees where he is going with this, and I think the question is unnecessary. I think blind people can see where Barney is going with that. Ted starts to shoot down Barney plan again, but Barney interrupts him to start miming using a periscope in a submarine, complete with “bip...bip” sound effects. Lily calls him a dork. Word, Lily. The bips increase in frequency as Barney spots a blonde girl who clearly doesn't know anyone around her. Barney drags Ted over to play Haaaaave you met Ted? They exchange hellos. He asks her if she knows Marshall or Lily. Nope. He pointedly asks if she knows anyone and she informs him that she works with Carlos. Barney excuses himself to ask if anyone knows Carlos. Nope. He turns to Ted and gestures at the blonde girl, saying “on a sliver platter. Bone appétit.” Ted is still not interested, so Barney turns back to the bonde and asks if she would like to see the roof, calling it magical. She agrees, and they head to the window. Ted tries to stop them, saying that he has the roof reserved. I never heard him call dibs. I'm just sayin'. Barney tells Ted that Robin is not going to show up. Ted yells after him that she will. He repeats to himself that she'll show up.
Cut to the apartment the next day, red plastic cups everywhere. Lily, Ted and Marshall are sitting on the couch. SagetTed tells us that Robin never showed up. Lily points out that is was still a great party. Marshall says that he ate four cans of dip. Ted thanks him for knowing just the right thing to say. Ted's phone rings and he sees that it's Robin calling. Lily tells him to answer, but he says no, he can't seem too eager, because he has to be casual. He waits for another ring and then answers. Robin immediately apologizes for missing his party. He pretends that he doesn't know who she is, asking if she's Meridith. Who buys that anymore when everyone's phone had caller ID? Robin tells him who she is, and tells him that she got stuck at work. She gives him the good news that they got the boy out of the crane machine. Ted asks if he got to keep the purple giraffe. Robin says they let the kid keep all the toys, since he was in there a long time and little kids have small bladders. Ew. Enjoy your pee toys kid. Robin says that she wishes the party was tonight, and Ted tells her that it is. Marshall jumps up off the couch in protest. Ted says that it's a two day party, “cuz that's just how we roll”. He re-invites Robin to the second party, and hangs up. He sheepishly turns to Marshall and says, “So that was Robin...” and Marshall wants to know what Ted is doing. Marshall has a paper to write by Monday. Better get your ass to the library, Marshall. Ted runs out the door apologizing and saying that he's going to get more dip. Marshall yells after him to get French Onion. Marshall asks Lily if she can believe what Ted is doing, but Lily clearly has other things on her mind as she looks up at Marshall, biting her lip and playing with her engagement ring. Marshall says fine, but tells her that it has to be super quick, and there will be no cuddling. They head to the bedroom, Lily saying how she's the luckiest girl alive. Marshall stops outside of the room and tears off his robe before heading in after Lily in only his boxers and a pair of brown socks. Sexy.
At the apartment, the second party is in full swing. Barney comes up to Ted and tells him that he was right about the roof. He took the girl from last night home, and that morning took her outside, “spun her in circles a few times, and sent her walking. She will never find her way back—and there she is!” Sure enough, there she is. I don't know why Barney thought she would be trying to find her way back to Ted's apartment the day after the party, since that was surely before even Ted knew there was a second party. Maybe he meant that she wouldn't find Barney's apartment again? I'm thinking about this too much. Anyway. Barney wants to know if Ted invited her, but Ted still doesn't know who she is. Barney reminds him that she works with Carlos. Ted still doesn't know any Carlos. The blonde girl comes over and says hi to Barney. He clearly can't remember her name, saying “Hi...you!” The girl giggles and kisses him. She calls him sweetie and says she needs a drink. Barney and I have the same thought as she pulls him into the kitchen: Sweetie? Really? He turns back to mouth “help” to Ted, but Ted is busy trying to keep Lily and Marshall off the roof. He physically separates them from each other. I don't think that's gonna work Ted. Barney comes out of the kitchen, saying that it's over between him and “works-with-Carlos-girl.” Ted says that was fast, like, haaaaave you met Barney? Barney says that he was trying to think of the fastest way to get rid of a girl you just met, and we flashback to Barney telling Works With Carlos, “I think I'm in love with you.” She yells, “What?” and back in the present Barney thanks Ted. Ted is glad he could help, and then turns to yell at Marshall, who is heading up to the roof. Marshall apologizes, and goes up. Ted ask Barney what he's supposed to do when Robin shows up, and Barney just smirk and takes a drink. Ted argues again that she will show up.
Cut to the next day, Lily, Ted and Marshall sitting on the couch, again. Red cups are all over, again. SagetTed tells us that she didn't show up, again. Marshall says, “Alright. We threw two parties. Everybody had fun. Everybody wanged, everybody chunged.” Hee. Marshall gets up to finally work on his paper. He says to repeat after him, “I will now have sex with Marshall.” Lily and Ted, in chorus, “I will not have sex with Marshall.” Hee again! Ted's phone rings, it's Robin. He answers, and Robin says hi. Ted calls her Amanda, then corrects himself, saying, “Oh, sorry, Denise, you totally sounded like Amanda.” He exchanges a finger dap with Marshall for this. Again, I protest that Robin has to know that he knows it's her. Nevertheless, she corrects him that she is Robin and apologizes for missing his party again. She got stuck at work again. Ted says, “Ain't no thang but a chicken wing, mamasita!” then puts the phone against his chest and says, “Who am I?” to Lily and Marshall. At least this time Ted knows he's ridiculous. Robin asks about the chance that his party will continue for a third day, and Ted can't resist saying that it will. Marshall jumps off the couch and tries to grab the phone away from Ted, but Ted is too fast for him. Marshall stalks after him as he babbles some more at Robin, using the terms “bro” and “party trifecta.” I maintain that Ted is lucky that he's attractive. Robin promises to show up this time. Ted hangs up and turns to Marshall, sheepishly saying, “So that was Robin...” again.
Cut to the incredibly lame party. There are like six guys sitting around chatting. Barney wanders over to the couch and tells Ted how lame his party is. Ted asks if it's lame, or casual. Barney votes lame. Ted asks again, and Barney just shakes his head. Marshall comes out of the bedroom and Lily asks him if he's ready for a fifteen minute recess, calling him Lawbooks and stroking his chest. He apologizes, but he can't stop working on his paper, and he needs all his blood in his brain. I giggle, because penises are funny. Marshall asks if anyone has seen some book with a really long name. No one has. He asks if anyone has seen a big ass book. Still no. Someone says hello to Barney, and he turns to see Works With Carlos. She asks him if he thinks it's weird both of them got invited, and Barney gets kind of rude, asking, “Who? Who invited you? No one even knows who you are!” Works With Carlos just chalks his behavior up to his “broken heart.” She says that Carlos was right about him, and walks away. He yells “Who is Carlos?” after her. Marshall comes out of Ted's room, still looking for his book. He finds it on the coffee table, open with the pages down and a red cup sitting on it. He picks it up and liquid is dripping off of it. He promptly throws a fit, as would I. But then I don't make a habit of leaving expensive ass books lying around. He yells the long name of the book again and says that it is not a coaster. He turns to Ted and gives a long speech about how they threw three stupid parties just so Ted could hang out with Robin, and she isn't even there. He asks Ted where Robin is, turns around and almost runs into Lily and Robin exiting the kitchen. He says hi to Robin, drops his big ass book on the floor, grabs Lily's hand and runs into the bedroom. Robin approaches Ted and asks him if he threw all the parties for her. Ted starts to deny it, in the lamest way possible, but then he cops to it. He says that one of the reasons he threw these parties was to introduce Robin to “this guy”, grabbing the nearest person to him. Ted figured that since things didn't work out between the two of them, now they can just laugh about it. He introduces the guy who's name he doesn't know by saying, “Robin, this is...” and turning to him. The guy fills in with “Carlos.” Ted and Barney: “Ohhhhhh.”
Lily and Marshall are standing over Ted, who is sitting at his drafting table. They are watching Robin and Carlos chatting on the couch. Ted babbles about winning the game. Lily grabs him and gives him the tough talk. She agrees that Robin is great and all, but Ted wants to get married. She reminds Ted that there are a million women in New York who want that too, but Robin is not one of them. Ted argues that Robin isn't “just one of them,” she's The One. Barney points out that The One is heading up to the roof with Carlos. Marshall asks Ted what he's going to do, and Ted says nothing. He has to keep playing the game. Montage of hands playing the claw game, Ted, Robin, the window to the roof, and the hand hitting the “drop claw” button. More montage, ending with shots of the kid climbing into the game and Ted climbing up to the roof. Up on the roof, Ted asks Carlos to give them a minute, and Carlos takes off saying, “No sweat, hombre.” Ted tells Robin that he didn't throw the parties to set her up with Carlos, he threw them because he wanted to see her again. Robin just says, “Well here I am.” Ted says that there is something between them, unless he's crazy. Robin tells him that he's not crazy, but they barely know each other and he looks at her like “let's fall in love and get married and have babies and drive them to soccer practice.” Ted cracks a joke about not forcing sports on their kids. Robin calls it a great look, but tells him that he's looking at the wrong girl. Ted protests that he's not, and I get irritated that Ted is trying to tell Robin what she wants. Look, Ted, just because you want to get married, blah blah blah, and Robin is attracted to you, that does not mean that she's required to want to get married to you. Robin tells him that she might not ever want to get married, and she knows that dating Ted would end in either them getting married or her breaking his heart, and she doesn't want to do either one. She says that Ted can't turn off how he feels, and Ted cheeses it up by turning an imaginary key over his heart, saying “click, off” as he does so, and then says, “Let's make out.” Robin laughs, but backs away. He tells Robin that he just turned off his feelings and steps closer to her. She protests that he can't, he argues that he did. They get closer. More back and forth about his switch being off. They move closer, and finally kiss. Ted pulls back a little and says that it's not off. Robin was right, there is no off switch. Ted really wishes there was one. Robin sighs and agrees. They laugh and are awkward. Robin suggests that they be friends, and Ted does the hand over his heart like it hurts him thing. Robin knows that it sounds lame when people say that, but that they really could be friends. Ted isn't sure, since he's made such a jackass out of himself. Every time he sees her it will remind him that he's a jackass. Robin says that he's not a jackass. She explains that she just moved to New York in April, and she's always working, and she basically has no friends. She understands though. Ted offers to go for a beer in a few months when things are not so fresh. Robin sadly agrees, and starts to leave. Ted changes his offer to get a beer with everyone now. Robin agrees, and Ted says, “My friends are going to love you—like you! As a friend. Jackass...”
Fade into the bar, where everyone is sitting at the booth. Barney sees something that makes him say, “Unbelievable!” Over at the bar, Works With Carlos is making out with, well, Carlos. Barney says that it's a disaster, since they work together. Ted asks if he's jealous, and Barney scoffs, asking what Carlos has that he doesn't. Robin shoots him down with “A date tonight.” Lily tells her to rewind and play it again. Robin complies, even making the rewinding tape noises. Barney isn't sure he likes Robin. Ted asks Marshall if he has a paper to write. Marshall says, “Dude, you're talking to The Kid.” Ted knows. Marshall is going to finish his beer, have another beer, go upstairs and write his twenty-five page paper, and then get an A. He ends with, “My name is Rufus, and that's the trufus.” That reference is lost on me, but everyone else giggles. SagetTed tells us that Marshall ended up getting a B-, which is still amazing for writing it in one night. Ted gets up to buy the next round, and Robin goes with him to help carry. Over at the bar, Robin tells Ted that he is a catch and will make some lucky woman a good husband. She offers to help Ted find her. Ted wonders how someone can find the love of his life among so many people, or even where to begin. Robin taps the woman next to them on the shoulder and asks her, “Have you met Ted?” Robin heads back to the booth with the pitcher and Ted stays to chat. He looks over at Robin, and she grins at him. He grins back.

The Tornado Story

2009-06-27T10:08:00.002-04:00

Yesterday was a bright, sunny, hot Florida day. After work I drove over to the bank, stopping for gas first. As I was telling the pump what kind of gas I wanted, I heard a loud thunderclap. Not really that strange for this time of day in the summer, but when I turned around and saw the deep grey clouds hanging incredibly low, it gave me pause. Finished filling my thirsty car and drove over to the bank. Just as I was finishing my transaction, the teller got a phone call, after which she announced, "I'm supposed to warn everyone that there's a small tornado outside." We all rushed outside to take pictures, like total jackasses, myself included. Hey, it was the first tornado I had ever seen. And I did check it out from inside first, and it was pretty far away. Pictures taken, I got back in the car to head home. After driving through some pretty intense rain and random hail, I got back to the house without incident. An hour and a half later, the sky was once again completely clear.

Tornado!

2009-06-26T17:42:00.000-04:00

Pilot

2009-06-19T20:00:00.020-04:00

Airdate 9/19/05"In 2029, Ted tells his children the story of how he met their mother, beginning back in 2005 with Marshall and Lily's engagement. Ted, eager to find his soul mate, meets Robin, and sets his sights on marrying her."
The opening title reads "The year 2030" (which is not 2029, like the episode blurb on the DVD case. Good job editors.) and we fade in to two teenagers sitting on a couch, a boy and a girl. SagetTed tells the kids that he is going to tell them "an incredibly story, the story of how I met your mother." The boy wants to know if they are being punished for something and the girl's horribly, horizontal zigzag patterned tights want to know if this is going to take a while. The answers are no and yes, respectively. The kids settle into the couch as SagetTed begins four seasons worth of storytelling.
Over a montage of photos of Ted drinking, being an architect, drinking, hanging out with Marshall and Lily, and drinking, we learn that in the year 2005 Ted was 27 and just starting out in his career as an architect. Ted's life was pretty good, until Marshall screwed it all up. The last photo of Marshall on his knees holding a ring box comes to life as he imploringly asks "Will you marry me?" Ted says yes. Hee. Ted is excited about his friends getting engaged, describing the rest of the night of champagne and sex on the kitchen floor. Then he asks Marshall to please not have sex on the kitchen floor. I look over at my kitchen floor and think, gross.
Marshall thanks Ted for helping him plan this out, and Ted remembers being there for all the "big moments" with Marshall and Lily. I don't see how this is one of those moments, since Ted will, in fact, not be there when Marshall proposes, but maybe he means there in spirit? Anyway, the "big moments" that Ted was present for include the night they met, their first date, "other first things". Marshall claims that he and Lily thought Ted was sleeping. EW. Ted explains that physics dictates that when the bottom bunk moves, the top bunk moves also. EW EW! People. Don't have sex with your roommates present. Unless they are invited. Ted once again expresses his wonder that Marshall is getting engaged tonight. Marshall and his awesome shirt ask what Ted is doing that night. We freeze on Ted lifting his beer to his lips as SagetTed tells his kids that during the biggest night of Uncle Marshall's life, he was "calling up your Uncle Barney", saying Barney's name with much contempt. Shut up SagetTed, Barney is awesome. Cut to Barney getting his face shaved, like at the barber with a straight razor and hot towels and such. He informs Ted that Lebanese girls are the new half-Asians. When Ted asks if Barney wants to do something, Barney tells him to meet him at the bar in fifteen minutes and "SUIT UP!", then flips his phone closed. Not one for conventional goodbyes, that Barney.
Barney is standing at the bar, suited up, beer in hand when Ted enters. How did Barney get to the bar before Ted when Ted lives directly above the bar? Maybe he had to do his hair. Ok, focus. Barney is upset that Ted is not wearing a suit. Apparently Ted never wears a suit. Ted claims he did "that one time". Barney, disgusted, "It was a blazer."
Ted ignores this completely and waxes nostalgic about his friendship with Marshall and Lily, and expresses worry that he will be on the outs with them once they are married and starting a family. He doesn't want to be "the weird, middle aged bachelor their kids call Uncle Ted." Does he mean like SagetTed's kids refer to Barney as Uncle Barney? Barney smacks Ted on the side of the head and I giggle, because hitting Ted is always funny. Barney tells Ted to remember what he said to Ted on the night they met.
Side slide to Ted sitting in a booth at the bar, sporting a goatee that is masterful in its doucheness. Barney slides into the booth next to Ted. Ted appears to be talking to some other blond guy in the booth, but as we only see the back of his head, and only this one time, I don't care about him. Barney tells Ted that he is going to teach Ted how to live. Barney is wearing a black shirt with white vertical stripes paired with a royal blue tie with a white diamond pattern on it. Ted looks at him searchingly, as would I. That shirt and tie are fighting with my retinas. Barney reminds Ted that they met at the urinal. Guys do that? I thought there were all these rules about urinals, and how you can't stand next to each other or make eye contact, let alone talk. How do those rules allow for an introduction? Maybe Barney is just a rebel. The clashing patterns he's wearing make me think so.
Barney's rules for living life are that Ted should lose the goatee (agreed), and buy a suit, because "suits are cool. Exhibit A", with a gesture at himself. The close up allows me to see that Barney's tie is actually black with maroon and pale blue circles on it. Which amounts to him pairing stripes with polka dots. My eyes are screaming. Anyway, lesson three is that Ted should not even think about getting married until he's thirty. We slide back to Ted saying that Barney is right, he should wait until thirty to think about marriage. He supposes that "when your best friend gets engaged, you start thinking about that stuff." Barney protests that he thought he was Ted's best friend and demands that Ted say that he is. Ted humors him. Barney, as Ted's best friend and all, suggests that they play Haaaaaaaaaaave you met Ted? Ted protests that he doesn't want to play, but Barney ignores him and taps the woman next to him on the arm and says, "Hi, have you met Ted?", and skedaddles. Ted greats her and the very attractive woman introduces herself to Ted as Yasmin. He complements her name and she tells him that it's Lebanese.
Up in the apartment, Lily comes home and puts her bags down on the couch. Marshall greets her through the kitchen cut out and comes into the living room as Lily says that she is exhausted because "it was finger painting day at school and a five year old got to second base". She opens her jacket to reveal a blue hand print directly on her right breast. She is excited that Marshall is cooking, but wants to be sure that it's a good idea, since Marshall "looked really creepy without eyebrows" after the last time he cooked. He says he can handle it and that he is full of surprises tonight. Lily wants to know what other surprises he has for her, like that won't completely ruin the point of a surprise. Marshall panics and yells "Boogedy boo!" at her while waving his arms around. Hee. Also, SagetTed tells us that Marshall is in his second year of law school. Marshall claims that there are no other surprises for Lily. He goes back into the kitchen to cook.
Back in the bar, Ted and Yasmin are sitting at a table while Ted tells her how happy he is for Marshall, but that he can't imagine settling down right now. Yasmin wants to know if he thinks he'll ever get married. Ted does, to the point of describing his future wedding "some fall day, possibly in Central Park. Simple ceremony, we'll write our own vows. Band, no DJ. People will dance! I'm not gonna worry about it." Man, Ted is a basket case. He bemoans his best friend getting engaged, like, way to be happy for him there Ted. He then mocks himself to Yasmin for planning his own wedding, but she claims that she thinks it's cute. Ted says that she is clearly drunk, and orders another glass of white wine for her, but he does it by holding up her glass, waggling it at the bar and yelling "One more for the lady!" Which is funny in the context of their conversation, but to the bartender Ted probably just looks like an asshole.
Back in the apartment, Lily is now cooking, wearing a red and white striped apron that I am coveting. Marshall hops off the counter he was sitting on and tells Lily to "look what I got [sic]", as he hands her a bottle of champagne. Lily tells him how sweet he is and hands it back to him. He just says, "Yeaaaah..." and hands the bottle right back to her. She remonstrates him that he is an adult and should not be afraid to open a bottle of champagne. Really, Marshall it's not that hard. He says that he's not scared, so Lily calls his bluff and tells him to open it. He takes the bottle back from her and, after considering for a moment, hands it back to Lily asking her to please open it. She calls him unbelievable and yells at him while the bottom half of the screen takes us back to Ted and Yasmin in the bar. SagetTed talks about two big questions that a man has to ask in life while Lily and Ted pass the bottle back and forth (which is not going to make it easier to open) and Ted stares at Yasmin intently. Ted is lucky that he's hot, because he is often very creepy. Anyway, SagetTed tells us that one of the questions you plan out for months and the other just slips out while you are drunk at some bar. As he says this, Marshall drops to one knee and whips out the ring for Lily and asks her to marry him. She yells, "Of course, you idiot!" and knocks his into the living room with the force of her hug. At the same time, Ted asks Yasmin if she would like to have dinner, and she shoots him down because Carl, the bartender, is her boyfriend. Hah! I bet he thinks you're an even bigger asshole than before! And, really, SagetTed? Those are the Two Big Questions that a man asks in life? How is asking a pretty woman that you are talking to at a bar to dinner even in the same category as asking your girlfriend of many years to marry you?
Back up in the apartment, Marshall and Lily sit up on the kitchen floor after having sex on it, just like Marshall told Ted he would not do. Marshall clearly has difficulties respecting other people's comfort level with respect to him having sex. Lily informs him that there's a pop tart under the fridge, and Marshall calls dibs. This couple is grossing me out right now. Marshall grabs the champagne off the counter so he can drink a toast to his fiancé. Lily kisses him and gets up off the floor, presumably to finish cooking dinner, while Marshall takes the metal wire contraption off of the cork. Marshall wonders why he was scared of opening a bottle of champagne, and pops the cork out with his thumb, which is the complete wrong way to open champagne. You are supposed to cup your hand over the cork, hold the bottle at a 45 degree angle, and turn the bottle while easing the cork out. As expected, the cork goes flying and foam comes pouring out. Off screen, Lily screams and Marshall covers his mouth in shock.
Back in the bar, Ted wonders why he is freaking out as he knows that he's not ready to settle down. Barney wonders how Carl is dating Yasmin, the Lebanese woman, as Carl doesn't even own a suit. Ted decides that even if he was ready to get married, which he emphatically is not, he has no one to get married with. He says, "It's like, ok, I'm ready, where is she?", turning as he says this to see a beautiful woman in a green turtleneck, and I'm not going to pretend I don't know that she is Robin.
Robin talks with some other woman while Ted makes googly eyes at her like the doof that he is. She notices and smiles at him, and they appear to have a moment. Ted turns to Barney and asks if he sees that girl. Barney thinks that she likes it dirty. I giggle, because I am an eight year old. Barney tells Ted to go say hi, but Ted starts to get all neurotic, making a plan to wait for her to go to the bathroom and then go stand casually by the jukebox. We don't hear how this plan will play out because Robin has walked over to the bar where Barney taps her on the shoulder and says, "Haaaaave you met Ted?" and hightails it outta there.
Cut to Lily and Marshall climbing into a cab, Lily holding an ice bag to her left eye (that is the same as the ice bag I had growing up. Aw, memories. That ice bag was held to many an injury. I come from a long line of klutzes.) and Marshall is apologizing profusely to her. Marshall asks the cabbie to take them to the hospital, but the cabbie demands to know if Marshall hit Lily. Lily scoffs at this idea, telling the cabbie that Marshall can barely bring himself to spank her in the bedroom. She explains that Marshall is like "Oh honey did that hurt?" while she taps the ice bag, and how she is like "C'mon lemme have it, ya pansy!" Lily then realizes that she is telling this to a total stranger. This couple definitely has issues with maintaining their own privacy. Marshall does not look pleased with her assessment of his bedroom skills. The cabbie creeps them both out by telling Lily to continue and asking if she is pajamas or naked while Marshall spanks her. Guh.
Back in the bar, Robin is telling Ted that she works for Metro News one, but she is only reporting on fluff pieces currently, "like the monkey who can play the ukulele", but she is hoping to get bigger stories soon. Ted jokes about a gorilla playing the upright bass. Lame Ted. Robin waves to a group of women sitting in a booth, none of whom look pleased that she is talking to Ted. He comments on that fact, so at least he is perceptive of that. Robin explains that the one in the middle just got dumped, so men are not in the picture tonight. Ted offers to let Robin throw a drink at him if it will help. I have always wanted to do that! Apparently so has Robin. Ted asks Robin to dinner on Saturday, but she can't because she is covering a story in Orlando for a week about a man who is going to make the world's largest pancake and then eat it. Ted shoots for the following night and Robin accepts. She slips him her business card and then throws her drink in his face and leaves, saying that it was fun. I bet it would have been more fun if she hit him in the middle of his face, instead of the top corner of his forehead.
Barney comes back over to mock Ted with the first "wait for it" of the show, saying "De-wait for it-nied. Denied!" Yay! I love "wait for it"! Ted corrects Barney that he is actually going out with Robin the following night. Barney is upset because he and Ted were supposed to play laser tag. Ted lets Barney down that they were never going to play laser tag.
The next night, Ted and Robin are having dinner. There is a fireplace in the restaurant with a blue french horn hanging above the mantle. Robin comments that it is bad ass. Ted agrees and likens it to a Smurf penis. What? Then the camera freezes on Ted making the greatest face ever. He looks like the cartoon Grinch when he smiles at the end because his heart grew three sizes. While his face is thus frozen, SagetTed cautions his son that it is not a great idea to say the words "Smurf penis" on a first date, unless you are with a woman as awesome as Robin. How old are his kids, is what I want to know. Robin giggles about Smurf penises, as do I now that I stop to consider the idea.
Back at the apartment, Lily is sitting on the couch flipping through a magazine and wearing an eye patch over her left eye. That would make my head hurt. Marshall is sitting next to her on her left with his laptop on his, well, lap. He turns to her and calls her name. Lily jumps and demands to know how long he has been sitting there. Har har. Lily's cute and all, but there is no way you wouldn't notice someone sitting next to you while they are doing anything with a laptop. There is clicking and typing and just noise in general. Nice try show. You ain't foolin' me.
Ted comes in and announces that he has met "The Future Mrs. Ted Mosby", calling Lily and Marshall Mom and Dad while he does so. Why can't she just be The Future Mrs. Mosby? And what makes you think she will take your last name anyway? Sorry, Ted just irritates me sometimes. Anyway, Lily and Marshall perk up and Ted asks Marshall, "How have I always described my perfect woman?" Marshall considers and comes up with the list, and a mighty long one it is. She likes dogs-cut to Robin telling Ted that she has five dogs. She likes scotch-cut to Robin saying, "I love a scotch that's old enough to order its own scotch." She can quote obscure lines from Ghostbusters-cut to Robin doing just that. Wow Ted, those are some high standards you have there buddy. No wonder you're single. Ted tells them that there is one more thing and we cut to Robin asking Ted if he wants some olives, saying that she hates them. Lily and Marshall are very excited about this and Lily says "the Olive Theory" with much affection. Back in the restaurant, Ted explains to Robin that the Olive Theory is based on Lily and Marshall, since Marshall hates olives and Lily loves them. Ted says, "In a weird way, that's what makes them perfect as a couple. The perfect balance." Yes, that's all you need to have balance in a relationship folks. One person who likes olives and one who hates them. I'm starting to see why Ted is single. Robin appears more intrigued than I am and tells Ted that she has a jar of olives in her fridge that has been there forever. Ted offers to take them off of her hands. She replies, "They're all yours." Is it hot in here?
Up in the apartment Marshall yells that it is on, and robots that it is on to the break of dawn, and that's when Marshall wins my heart. Anyone who is that willing to make a fool of himself is good people in my book. You can tell that Josh Radnor was really laughing at him too. Lily points out that it's only 10:30 and asks what happened.
Robin and Ted walk down the sidewalk, presumably to go back to her place so she can give him the jar of olives. There's a gross euphemism. Robin is talking about how she really wants a blue french horn for her fireplace. Ted offers her different colored instruments, such as a green clarinet, but she will accept no substitutes, saying "It's a Smurf penis, or no dice." Well it looks like Ted is in for a night of disappointment. I spoke too soon, because just then a news van pulls up to them and the woman in the van tells Robin that there is a man on the Manhattan bridge trying to jump off, and Robin gets to cover it. Robin tells them she'll be right there and turns to Ted and apologizes, saying that she had a great time. Back in the apartment Marshall want to know if Ted kissed her. Ted says that the moment wasn't right. Lily and Marshall are disappointed, but Ted protests that, since this woman could be his wife, he wants their first kiss to be amazing. Lily seems charmed, but it's just a setup because she says, "Awww, Ted that is so sweet. So you chickened out like a little bitch?" Hah. Marshall nods along, because really, Ted, it's just a kiss. Ted is offended at being called a chicken and gets all Marty McFly on Lily, calling her "a pirate who hasn't been single since the first week of college." Ted, I would watch it if I were you. Marshall looks pretty pissed. Lily argues that any single person, even the dumbest single person alive, would tell him the same thing, and if Ted doesn't believe her, he should call that person.
Cut to Barney doing a spectacular somersault dive so that he lands up against a wall in the laser tag...arena, I guess? He answers his phone with "Hey loser, how's not playing laser tag? Because playing laser tag is awesome" and then yells at a kid, Conner, who runs by that he killed Conner already and he's going to get Conner's mom. Ted asks him for his opinion on something. Barney says to meet him at the bar in fifteen minutes and demands that Ted suit up. Never gonna happen Barney.
At the bar, Ted, Lily, Marshall and Barney are sitting at a table and Ted is asking Barney if he agrees with Lily and Marshall that Ted chickened out. Barney can't believe that Ted isn't wearing a suit. Ted protests that Robin didn't give him the signal, whatever that is. Barney mocks him by blinking "Ted kiss me" in morse code. Also, Barney's shirt-tie combo is much better than the one I was railing about earlier. He's got a light pink shirt with a dark vertical stripe in it paired with a deep purple tie with pale blue swirlys on it. Over that he's wearing a dark blue jacket with a grey stripe. It's like, a thousand times better. Ted continues to protest that you shouldn't kiss someone without getting the signal. Barney, frustrated, turns and grabs Marshall's head and kisses him. Hah! Barney asks if Marshall gave him the signal, and Marshall very seriously turns to Lily and says, "I didn't, I swear!" Aw. Barney explains that he can now sleep tonight knowing that he and Marshall are never going to happen, and tells Ted that he should have kissed Robin. Ted finally agrees that he should have kissed her. He suggests doing it in a week when she gets back from Orlando, but Barney tells him that a week is like a year in "hot girl time" and that Robin will forget about Ted by then, and that Ted will never see her again. At that moment, Ted sees Robin on the tv above the bar, reporting on the Manhattan bridge guy. Lily says that she's cute and asks Carl to turn it up. Robin reports that the man came down off the ledge and everything is fine. Ted decides that he's going to go kiss her, right now. Marshall protests that it's midnight, but Ted doesn't care. He tries to build a metaphor about how kissing Robin is like the guy on the bridge, but it falls apart at the end when Ted realizes that his ending is getting married and having kids and the others guys ending is death from bridge jumping. Barney corrects him that it is a perfect metaphor, and congratulates Lily and Marshall on their engagement. They all start to leave except Barney, who will only go along on one condition. Cut to the four of them in a cab (driven by Ranjit!) where Barney says, "Look atcha, you beautiful bastard, you suited up!" See, it doesn't take much to make Barney happy. Also, this is going in Barney's blog. Ted asks Ranjit to stop the car and he runs into the restaurant where he and Robin had dinner and grabs the blue french horn off the chimney and runs out with it. It's so sweet when guys break the law for you. He hops back in the cab yelling, "Go! Go! Go!" and Marshall, Lily and Barney look at him like the crazy jackass that he is. He holds up the blue french horn and says, "Everybody brings flowers." Touché, Ted.
They pull up to Robin's building and Ted tries to psyche himself up. Barney is excited that Ted is going to sleep with a tv reporter, saying, "This just in..." and looking at Lily with his hand raised for a high five. She just shakes her head no at him and he lowers his hand. That was one of my favorite moments in the whole episode. Lily and Marshall rally for Ted, telling him to go kiss the crap out of that girl. Ew. Ted tells Mashall to remember this story, because he is going to tell it when he's the best man at Ted and Robin's wedding. Ted gets out of the cab and Barney demands to know why Marshall gets to be the best man, since he is Ted's best friend. SagetTed tells us that he was thinking many things as he walked up to Robin's door, but he forgot about her five dogs. Ruh roh. Sure enough, after he rings the bell, much barking is heard. Ted starts to run away, but is admonished by Lily and Barney, who yells, "You're wearing a suit!" at him. He goes back. Robin and two dogs stick their heads out of an upstairs window and Ted tries to say that he was just in the neighborhood, but only gets as far as "I was just, ah...", and he simply holds up the blue french horn. Robin tells him to come up.
Back in the cab, Barney asks Ranjit is he knows a lot of Lebanese women. Ranjit corrects him that he is from Bangladesh. Barney want to know if there are hot women there, and Lily reaches her Barney limit and goes off in search of a bathroom. Ranjit shows Barney a picture of his wife. Barney cringes and whispers to Marshall that a simple no would have sufficed. Marshall covers his face. Barney tells Ranjit that his wife is lovely.
Upstairs in Robin's apartment, Robin wants to know what brings Ted to Brooklyn at 1:00 AM in a suit. Ted says that he wants the olives she said he could have. She asks if he wants them with gin and vermouth. Ted asks if she is trying to get him drunk, and Robin sidles over to him, pushes play on her cd player and says, "For starters," as sexy music begins to play. She turns to go into the kitchen and Ted mouths "thank you". Word. That was hot, and I am 100% straight.
Back in the cab, Barney is asking Marshall about his dislike of olives. Barney claims that he saw Marshall eat olives at a Spanish bar two weeks ago and asks him, "What up?" Marshall, caught, tells Barney to swear that this never leaves the cab. Barney swears. Ranjit also swears. Marshall explains that he really does like olives, but on their first date, Lily asked if she could have his olives, so he pretended not to like them. Even thought he really did like olives, Mashall was eighteen, a virgin, and had been waiting his whole life for a pretty girl to want his olives. Oh, hello Euphamism. It's been a little while. Where you in the shower, or something? Barney offers an early wedding present to Marshall. His present is, "Don't get married."
Back upstairs in Robin's apartment, sexy music plays and Ted and Robin sway with their hands on each other's waists while her five dogs watch them. Robin likes his olive theory. Ted likes her new french horn. Robin likes his nose. Weird, but ok. Some people have nice noses. I've never thought Ted's was particularly handsome, but alright. Ted thinks he's in love with Robin. He says it. Out loud. Cut to Lily, Marshall and Barney yelling "What!?" Cut to Ted's future kids yelling "What!?" Cut to Robin yelling "What!?"
Down in the cab, Barney tries to convince Marshall that Marshall is hungry for experience and that he's only getting married becasue he's afraid of living or some crap like that. Marshall agrees that he is scared, but that when he thinks about Lily and being married to her and being with only her for the rest of his life, it doesn't scare him at all, and he's going to marry her. Lily has returned from the bathroom just in time to hear this, and she reaches in the cab window to kiss Marshall. He stops her and confessess that he likes olives. Lily tells him, "We'll make it work," and kisses him. Aw. They are so sweet. Ranjit agrees.
Back upstairs, Ted and Robin and sitting on her couch. Ted is uncomfortable and Robin is confused. Ted tries to change the subject by bringing up her trip to Orlando, but Robin just yells at him, "You love me?" Ted can't believe he said that and decides that he should go. Robin tells him to wait and hands him the jar of olives. Ted thanks her and tells her that he loves her again, immediately yelling "what is wrong with me?" For real Ted. Get your shit together.
Down in the cab, Barney wants to know why they are still there, and suggests going back to the bar. He even tempts Lily with "Yo ho ho and a bottle of rum" in a pirate voice. Hee. Lily is fed up and takes her eye patch off. Lily says that they can't abandon Ted, because they will need to support him if things don't go well. Marshall points out that it's been like twenty minutes and asks Barney if he thinks they're having sex. Ted and Robin, not Marshall and Barney. Barney wonders if they're doing it in front of the dogs. Marshall offers up "doggie style" and I giggle because I'm immature. Barney starts to tell a story about a girl he knew in college who had a golden retreiver, but Lily is grossed out and interrupts him, saying that they can go to the bar if he will stop talking. I imagine that happens a lot.
Ted exits Robin's building, asking her to call him eccentric instead of psycho when she tells this story to her friends. Don't count on it Ted. She says, "Goodnight, Psycho," and Ted puts his hand over his heart like it hurts and heads out. When he sees that the cab is gone he turns back and asks Robin how to get the the F train and she gives him directions. After a few steps, Td changes his mind and turns back saying, "You know what? I'm done being single." Man, that line pisses me off so much. I feel a rant coming on. It's like, is Robin just supposed to be your girlfriend just because you decided that you're "done being single"? I'm sorry for your immense problem of singleness Ted, really I am. Ugh. I really don't like Ted sometimes. Anyway, his monologue continues that it sucks that guys can't tell a girl that they love her on the first date, and that if some woman were able to put up with his shit, he would be a good husband because he would make he laugh and walk her dogs. Ted is in for a rude awakening when he learns that being a good husband takes more than that. Right now I am mentally telling Robin to run for the hills, because Ted is sounding like a selfish child and like his idea of love is immature and romanticized in the extreme. He also claims that he's a good kisser, but Robin tells him that everyone thinks they are a good kisser. Ted has references. Whatever. Robin shakes his hand and stares longingly at him.
Back at the bar Ted tells Barney, Lily and Marshall that the night ended with that handshake and he'll probably never see Robin again. They all stare at him. He asks what. Marshall: That was the signal. Lily agrees that he should have kissed her. Barney says that there is no such thing as the signal, but that was it. Ranjit pops out and says, "Signaaaaal". Carl comes over with a bottle of champagne for them and tells Ted he should have kissed her. Marshall says there's somthing he has to do, grabs the bottle and opens it. Lily is turned on. Keep it to yourself sister. Ted is going on that he has seen this signal and that was not it. Barney fills in for me with, "Yeah, Ted, we're not on you anymore." Marshall toasts his fiancé, Lily toasts the future, and Ranjit toasts one hell of a night. They all clink glasses and drink. Ted again says that it was not the signal. SagetTed tells his kids that he asked Robin about it later and she said it was the signal. Then he babbles about destiny and being to close to the puzzle to see the big picture and other such nonsense. Then he breaks it to the kids that this is how he met Aunt Robin. The kids are confused, saying they thought he was telling them how he met their mother. He's getting to it, it's a long story.

Coming Soon...

2009-06-19T19:23:00.004-04:00

So I've decided on a new project for my blog. I know I'm not so good at following through with projects I start in this here space, but hey. This is where I get to be myself completely, and part of who I am is a lazy jerk who never finishes a damn thing.
What is my new project?
One of my favorite sites in the whole internet is Television Without Pity. One of my favorite shows ever on television is How I Met Your Mother. However. TWoP does not have recaps of all of season one and half of season two. After ordering seasons one and two of HIMYM waaaaay back in February (seriously people, Magical Prices sucks ass. Never buy through them.), I have decided to rectify this situation. That's right. I'm going to post recaps of season one of How I Met Your Mother up in this joint.
That's the plan anyway.

So Much Better

2009-06-18T07:33:00.003-04:00

After the whole unravelling stitches fiasco, things with Singe are going much better. This is due in large part to the giant cage that I bought to contain her. I bought the biggest dog kennel/crate/whatchamacallit that I could find, got a nice flat cushion for her so she won't get stuck on it like she was her beds with their tricky side walls, and add a regular litter box into the mix and presto, perfect kitty prison. I had to get her a normal litter box because the LitterMaid that I have now turned out to be a trap for cats with cones on their heads. That was not a fun day.
So now, aside from her howling and scrabbling at the floor trying to dig her way out, both of which actions are brought to a halt be showing her a squirt bottle of water, she is really calm. Yesterday she was sleeping so deeply that she didn't even move when I opened the door to check on her water.

We are not Amused

2009-06-17T06:32:00.000-04:00

Pretty gross right? Singe had/has some crazy ass infection (best case) or some weird kind of lymphoma (worst case), all up under her skin on her back leg. She had surgery on it yesterday, and the above picture is the result. What I don't have pictures of is when her stitches started unravelling from the bottom upward and I had to take her to Animal ER last night at 11:00. She spent the night there, and today I am picking her up and taking her back to the vet. Then I need to purchase one of those big ass dog crates to lock her in while she recuperates. Which she is going to hate. Which she is going to be very loud about hating.

ACK!

2009-04-21T14:49:00.004-04:00

This chair is made of pure evil. I lost the website that I saw it on, but it was some sort of sports and hunting equipment place that apparently also sells home furnishings. But seriously. See those two spots that are the eyes? The deer head makes the nose and the mouth made out of pointy antlers. This chair wants to eat you.

I'm going to have nightmares about this damn thing.

Giggle

2009-04-20T19:46:00.004-04:00

This is one of the best things I have ever read on these here internets. The following comment (with a big ol' [sic]) is on a story that Spencer Pratt has declared a Twitter Douche Off with Ashton Kutcher. Behold:

NOW Ashton Kutcher is doing ANY stupid thing....what?without his mom-I mean Dumi Mooron with he fake-and look at this Scout daughter of hers-she ain't got no nostrils-where did they go george where did they go?NO NOSTRILS and with all of their $$$$$$$$$$ you'd think they could build her some nostrils.I guarentee people laugh behind he back when she snorts cocaine.I wonder if when at one time or another,she took playdough and made a pair of nostrils,I can only wonder.

I mean, seriously? "she ain't got no nostrils"? Gold. Pure. Comedy. Gold.

Not A Chance

2009-03-18T13:09:00.005-04:00

A list of things that I have no desire to do whatsoever.

Be on a reality show, for any amount of money.
Read anything that Stephen King has ever written.
Hem my own pants.
Reduce the amount of time I spend online.
Stop drinking so much coffee.
Listen to the radio.
Watch Oprah or Dr. Phil.
Go to my high school reunion.
Have kids.
Live in a small town.
Get up early on the weekends. And by early I mean before 11:00.
Live in a place that is not beach-adjacent.
Stop judging people who use poor grammar.
Let a spider live in my house.
Hide my nerdiness.
Have a life plan.
Not laugh at inappropriate things.
Take up jogging.
Live to be 100.
Live in the same place for the rest of my life.

I stole this idea from Alex the Odd, because I am a thieving thief.

Bored Now

2009-03-16T15:38:00.003-04:00

I've been feeling pretty out of sorts for the last few weeks. Sort of like everything is tilted. Or like one moment is not attached to the next.
Wow that sounds lame.
I'm not sure how to express how I'm feeling. I find myself doing strange things, even for me. Like staring blankly at nothing for half an hour. Constantly forgetting what I was just going to say, or what I was in the middle of doing. Out of energy, but at the same time very antsy; always wanting to be somewhere that I'm currently not, but not having the energy to leave the house. I want to do something, anything, but I haven't the slightest clue what I want to do.

In Which I Reveal Myself to be a Crazy Person

2009-02-18T15:02:00.004-05:00

This is for Pamala.

If you don't watch How I Met Your Mother, first of all, you need to be watching it. Second, this will not make much sense to you. You have been warned.

On the subject of Barney and Robin, or The BroTP:

I did not start watching HIMYM until Heather from Go Fug Yourself wrote an amazing analysis of Robin and Ted's breakup on her personal blog, and how she related to it on an emotional level. It made me think that it was worth checking out a half-hour sitcom that could inspire someone whose writing I secretly hold as a gold standard to delve so deeply into her own psyche. At first I just watched random episodes that I channel-surfed across. Then I watched a few episodes online. Then I was watching it every Monday night. Then I Netflixed all of the past seasons that were available and watched them all in a row. Pamala and I started having more and more frequent discussions about the show and the relationships between the characters. These discussions became almost entirely about the dynamic between Barney and Robin. They were sometimes even fan fiction.

Somehow these two fictional characters became an integral part of my life. It could be that these two characters are so well written and so well acted that they seem completely real. It could be (and most likely is) due to my own relationship being at a complete standstill. Whatever the reason, I now find myself completely emotionally invested in Barney and Robin.

When they first kissed, I was thrilled. Then when we found out that they had sex and were going to pretend they didn't (not that it lasted long), I was actually disappointed. I felt like all the build up that the show had been giving us should have led to something more that just a hook-up session. But now I've learned not to underestimate these writers. The direction that they are taking this has me completely on board and convinced that Barney and Robin should be together somehow. It's been there all along. They just didn't see it. Well, ok they did a little (Zip, Zip, Zip), but not at this level. Not when there are real feelings and emotions involved.

There are certainly arguments against these two people getting into a relationship. Barney is not the type of guy who could settle down with just one woman. Robin is not the type of girl to settle down with anyone at all. But there are deeper reason why these two are perfect for each other. They would certainly not be a perfect couple, and the show would suffer if they were. It would be completely against their natures, and Lily and Marshall already have that perfect couple thing going on.

One point is that, although Barney pointed out the reasons that he and Robin would be great together when he mistakenly thought Robin's invitation to play Battleship was a euphemism for sex, those reasons don't apply anymore since both people have gone through significant changes. While this may be true, there are reasons they they should be together that are more meaningful. I think that the reasons they are really good for each other are not necessarily the reasons that Barney stated why they should sleep together. They both secretly want someone they can depend on, but they're scared of getting hurt. Robin is more cavalier about her life, so she has opened herself to the possibility of getting hurt from relationships, but not to the point of being "dependent" on someone via marriage. Barney was utterly crushed after Shannon dumped him, as we can see in that video where he looks like a hippie and is singing and crying about Shannon. Her rejection crushed him and he has been protecting himself from that pain ever since by using a persona that is not really him. His emerging feelings for Robin are evidence of cracks in that hardened shell. She is bringing out the real him; the vulnerable, human Barney.

Conversely, I think that with Robin becoming more independent and stable again with her new job (that Barney got her...), she will be more open to a relationship since it will not mean depending on another person. That seems to be when she does her best with emotional situations. When she is depressed, she ends up hooking up with the Naked Guy. And let us not forget Robin Sparkles. All you have to do is think about the video for “Sandcastles in the Sand” and her behavior with Simon later in her adult life. There is clearly a side of Robin that is just as vulnerable and fearful of rejection as Barney. They have both developed personas to help them ward off potentially hurtful situations, and that is what I think will ultimately bring them together. It seems to be almost like they recognize themselves in each other.

Unlike the rest of the group, Robin seems to really understand that there is more to Barney than what meets the eye. She seems to accept all of the different aspects of Barney without question. Lily is certainly aware of Barney's more human side, but it came as a shock to her. Marshall and Ted still see Barney as a character, even though he has done incredibly substantial things for both of them.

We certainly know how Barney feels about Robin. Throughout the show, he has been much more aware of what is going on around him and what other people want than the other characters (especially Ted). He is almost preternaturally aware of Robin, even from as far back as season one. He immediately picked up on Robin having feelings for Ted, even while Robin herself was still in denial about it. Throughout the show he has mentioned things about her that the others did not seem aware of. Like the fact that she has an occasional cigarette when she's relaxing in the tub. Whether or not he is inherently that perceptive, it is definitely something that he would have honed to a fine edge while developing his skills at picking up women. He sees what they want, what will make them happy, and he becomes it. He gives others pleasure, but he doesn't ever partake for himself beyond a superficial level. I think the thing that is freaking him out with regard to Robin is that she has the potential to make him happy, and he hasn't experienced that since he was with Shannon.

That brings us to the question of whether or not Barney could make Robin happy. Clearly the Barney that sleeps with a different random woman almost every night through various ruses and games would not be tolerated. But what about the new Barney, the bundle of raw emotions? The Barney who smashes tvs when he learns that Robin is sleeping with Ted again? How would Robin feel about that Barney? Keep in mind that Robin did date Ted for a long time, and he is about as sentimental as you can get. Also, the boost to Barney's ego that would result from Robin accepting him would bounce him right back to the level of awesome that we know and love.

The only thing that still remains in question is how Robin actually feels about Barney. My pet theory is that Robin has feelings for Barney as well, but she is not letting herself acknowledge them. I hope that as Barney's feelings for her lead him to action, however subtly, she will become more receptive to him. My fear is that she is completely aware of how Barney feels about her, but she feels nothing for him beyond friendship, so she is avoiding the whole topic. I alternate between these theories every single time Barney and Robin interact at all.

25 Things About Me (The Food Version)

2009-02-10T10:22:00.009-05:00

I already did the 25 random things thing on facebook, and this morning I was thinking that I could probably do an entire 25 things about me and food. I have a lot of weird food habits.

1. I prefer that items on my plate not touch each other. I used to be very bad about this as a kid, but I am much better now. There are still times when things touch and it bothers me. In that case I will not eat the part of the item that was touching something else.

2. I usually do not drink while I am eating. I drink after I am done with my food. The exception is spicy food. If I have a glass of milk, I will save it until the end and then gulp it down as fast as I can. I really like to drink milk fast.

3. I cannot stand bananas in any form. The smell makes me very nauseous. I can't even handle banana in other things, like smoothies. I have refused to let coworkers throw banana peels in my trash can.

4. I do not like most green vegetables. Exceptions are broccoli, artichokes and green bell peppers. I will eat other vegetables, but I really do not enjoy them.

5. I eat most symmetrical food in a circle. Like sandwiches. I eat all of the crust, ending on the top. Then I eat the rest in a spiral. Hamburgers too.

6. I don't like chocolate. I know this is one of the strangest ones, but it's true. I occasionally enjoy a piece of good chocolate, like one of those Ghiradelli's squares. But I don't crave chocolate ever. And I prefer my chocolate to include nougat, caramel, or toffee.

7. I love hard candy. Jolly Rancher's, lolly pops, Sweet Tarts, bring it on! Especially sour candy. I have eaten Sour Patch Kids until my tongue started to bleed. More than once.

8. I don't like nuts. Of any kind. I will eat cashews, but only a small handful. Wait, do water chestnuts count? Because those I love.

9. I occasionally obsess over whether something is technically a fruit or a vegetable. Like cucumbers and strawberries.

10. When I am drinking something other than milk, I find it very difficult to drink the last half inch of liquid.

11. I have to concentrate very hard while swallowing pills. If I get distracted, I will somehow only swallow the water and then I'm left with a melting pill in my mouth.

12. I do not eat mushrooms or onions. And yes, I can taste them. Yes, even if it's just a little bit. You can put them in whatever you are making if you want. I'll pick them out.

13. Bleu cheese freaks me out. Gorgonzola cheese it totally fine. I have no idea why.

14. I don't like Swiss cheese. It tastes like metal to me.

15. When eating french fries, I have to eat more than one at a time, but they must be of equal lengths. I will select two or three fries of equal length, ketchup them and eat them together.

16. I prefer regular, simple coffee with just sugar and milk. I don't like specialty drinks. They tend to leave some sort of film in my mouth.

17. I never add salt or pepper to my food once it is on my plate.

18. I like to have ice in almost all of my drinks. I have put ice in beer and milk.

19. I am left-handed, so I place my silverware on the left side. I also place my drink on the left side, but I reach across my plate with my right hand to take a drink.

20. If I am eating chips, I have to eat only one at a time. I cannot eat several chips at once, no matter how small they are.

21. I do not like pie. Of any kind. Fruit should not be cooked. I especially hate fruit syrups.

22. Once I find a dish that I like at a restaurant, I rarely deviate from that dish.

23. I have never met a potato I didn't like. I could eat potatoes with every meal. Including breakfast. I once had a stew in Ireland that had five different kinds of potatoes in it. I was in heaven.

24. I don't like eggs. I will eat them, but I really don't like them. One exception is California Eggs Benedict at Cajun Kitchen, but I think that is because everything at Cajun Kitchen is amazing.

25. In spite of all of my weird food rules, I will try anything at least one time. But if I decide that I do not like something, that's it. You can say "Oh, but you've never had it this way." I still won't like it after trying your favorite. I promise. And no matter what anyone else says, to me, tapioca pudding will always be fish eyes. End of story.

So, what do you think? Am I a total freak? Or are you even weirder than me?

Come On To My House, My House, My House

2009-01-28T20:39:00.004-05:00

Everyone who has been pestering me for pictures of my apartment (duplex, house, whatever), prepare to get excited!

Here we have the living room, facing the front door and The Orange Fireplace (I wasn't kidding):

We pan over to the right and there are my two tiny windows, my lovely bookcase, and The TV (it really deserves caps, don't you think?). Of course, a Celtics game is on:

Here's half of The TV and my very artistic photos of trees. And a little bit of the kitchen. And the terminally cluttered dining table that we never use:

Here is the kitchen, in all its glory! Actually, this is mainly to show off my fantastic dragonfly decals (link):

Now, backing up a bit into the living room, here is another dragonfly, another artistic photo of a tree, and another bookshelf! At least I'm consistent. You can also see the little square "hallway":

Next, we turn ninety degrees to the right, where the couch is. That door is still the front door, for those of you interested in orientation. Check out my awesome hand colored map of Southern California:

Here is the little square "hallway", along with dragonfly number three. I think I'm going to name them. You can see into the bathroom too:

Now we take a giant step backwards, and presto! We're in the bedroom. Some more artistic photos of trees and my dresser. And a mess. See? Consistent:

Turn to the right and there's the bed and my giant sun, hanging out, being a giant sun:

Turn a little bit more to the right and there is my other tiny window (bedroom version) and the fourth and final dragonfly. And my giant closet thing that I painted green. Because houses built in the 40s don't have much closet space:

This completes the tour of Sarah's Awesome Apartment.

It's My Party

2009-01-27T11:27:00.002-05:00

I am so stressed out with work and life that I am teetering on the verge of frustration tears at and given moment.
I truly love my job and my coworkers, but our manager has been in and out sick since New Years and our director is a frustrating man who loves to hear himself talk and also loves to ask us why we aren't doing six people's work with a staff of three, one of whom is me, and I am by no means proficient at what I am doing. I literally didn't have time to check my email yesterday.
Another thing is that I was off my birth control for about two weeks and then went back on mid-cycle, so my hormones are seriously wack right now. For example, I was watching Tool Academy, which is a show about asshole guys learning how to not be such assholes to their equally asshole girlfriends who tricked them into going on this show (the guys thought the show was a competition for Mr. Awesome) and I started crying. There is no circumstance under which a VH1 reality show should make me cry unless it is because I am laughing so hard.
So please forgive the lack of recent posts. I'll come back soon. For now, just keep watching the crazy German song with the cute cat. It still makes me giggle.

Crazy Germans

2009-01-14T20:29:00.003-05:00

I have no idea what the words to this song are. I do know that it is adorable. I also know that this song made Singe roll around in her bed like a freak.

Oh, For Fuck's Sake!

2009-01-14T16:47:00.002-05:00

See, this shit right here is why I hate PETA.

Huffington Post: PETA wants to remane fish "Sea Kittens"

(stolen from Chez)

Say What, Now?

2009-01-14T13:25:00.003-05:00

My horoscope for today is baffling. Like, even more than normal. Check it out:

You might feel like a mental ninja warrior today, but every thought you throw into a conversation is washed aside by someone else. You may feel ineffectual, as if your ideas cannot quite gel. It's no fun when you cannot blend your many trains of thought into one coherent knockout punch. Instead of growing frustrated and then retreating, stay aware that your feelings of being "off" are temporary and a more positive attitude will return in a few days.

How does feeling ineffectual make me a ninja warrior? Isn't a ninja, by its very nature, incredibly effective? Not to mention the closer statement of "Yeah, you're going to confuse yourself today, but stop being a whiny bitch an accept it. Buck up, lil' camper!" Thanks, Google. You bastard.

Brighton (Part 1)

2009-01-12T12:20:00.003-05:00

This picture pretty much captures the feeling of Brighton. Bright lights, fun activities with your friends, a sort of child-like delight in what you are doing.

It also captures the natural state of inebriation I was in much of the time, but that is neither here nor there.

Brighton is really quite beautiful. Especially at night. It's kind of amazing how many pictures I managed to take at night, since I was there during the summer and the sun didn't fully set until around midnight. It was a unique experience going outside in the outfit you were wearing to the club while the sun was still shining...

One of the more impressive things in Brighton is the Royal Pavilion. It was undergoing renovations of some sort while I was there, so during the day it was covered in scaffolding, which wasn't very conducive to beautiful photographs. At night, however:

Amazing, right?

I have a really funny story about the Royal Pavilion too. I was friends with the girl across the hall from me, Catherine, and her cousin, Liz. Liz was older than me by a year or too, and a quiet, reserved kind of girl. She was really funny, just in a quiet way. Catherine was the complete and total opposite. She was a goofball, in every sense of the word. So one day, I believe it was this day:

We had a few drinks. That pitcher cost something like four or five pounds, which was a great price. The three of us split it and enjoyed it thoroughly. Then we meandered around, possibly partaking in other drunken activities, and gradually made our way to the bus stop, right in front of the Royal Pavilion. We were waiting for the bus when Liz announced that she had to pee. Like, right now. We told her to just hang in there for a few minutes, we were going to be home soon. Then Liz disappeared. A minute went by. Then another. The bus was coming down the street. Then Liz magically reappeared beside us. We asked her where the hell she was. She replied, "I told you, I had to pee." We asked her where. She pointed to the Royal Pavilion. "How on earth did you pee there?"

"I hopped the fence."

She had seriously climbed over an eight foot fence, relieved herself on the front lawn of the Royal fucking Pavilion (in some bushes), and then climbed back over the fence. In a matter of minutes. There is no way she could have done that sober.

On a completely different day, we all ended up wearing green shirts out. This was unplanned, and even unnoticed by us until we had someone take this picture of us:

(I completely forget that fourth girl's name.) The person who took the picture said something about the green shirt girls, and we all looked at each other and went "Ohhhhhhhhhh..." Catherine's jacket looks blue in this picture, but trust me, it was green. This pub was particularly awesome because of the way we found it. We were either out on the pier or in a restaurant, I forget which, and this guy started talking to us. We chatted with him a bit, and he recommended that we go to a pub called Shakespeare's Head. If we told the bartender that guy had sent us, we would each get a free pint. Never ones to refuse free beer, we got directions and struck out. The pub was somewhat difficult to find, I do remember that part. But we did find it, and that picture up there is us with our free pints. Yay beer!

One of the many things that Brighton is famous for is a place called The Lanes. Or was it The Liens? There were two areas that sounded the same (to my ears anyway), but were two separate places. One of them was a neighborhood of spectacularly colored houses. The other was a whole bunch of shops on streets that made a very intricate maze. You could wander around those streets and find all manner of shops, ranging from fantastic (like an FCUK outlet) to completely bizarre. Case in point:

Before you flood the comments with explanations that vegetarian shoes are real, and they are super great and amazing, blah blah blah, keep in mind that this was 2005, and no one that I knew had ever heard of vegetarian shoes before.

There was also a shop that served us glasses of champagne while we tried on clothes. No wait, that wasn't in Brighton. Where was that? That shop (with the champagne) was where I purchased the green top that I am wearing in the free beer picture. So there's that.

And finally, there is this picture:

I swear to whatever you hold holy, this picture is not altered in any way, shape, or form. I ducked into a shop to use their bathroom, and this is what I found. The entire place was blue. Or, more likely, it was white and they used blue light bulbs. My head started to hurt after mere seconds in there. It was nuts. When I went back out into normal light, everything looked yellow for quite some time. Very unsettling...

Tackiness Contest Ahoy!

2009-01-08T14:02:00.003-05:00

There is a contest going on for the tackiest thing on the internet. Here are my entries!

Patrick Swayze Centaur Rainbow Tattoo:

Made all the more frightening when you take into consideration that this is a tattoo. As in permanently-in-someone's-skin.
We had Boxing Jesus already, so how about a little Baseball Jesus:

In Yo Face, PETA!

2009-01-08T12:06:00.003-05:00

This is why bikers are often times the best people I know:

I just learned about the group Rescue Ink from Jezebel, and I feel like I need to spread the word. Hell, I might even join them. Mama and Mr. D, get on it!

"But why is this in PETA's face?" you may be asking yourself. Well, you see, most animal right's groups are full of shit. Or rather, full of shitty people who would rather talk about how animals are our brethren and should be respected and not eaten, etc, meanwhile they really do jack shit in terms of directly benefiting animals. Sure, they'll stick naked women in cages to protest eating pork (somehow...), but actual, hands on rescue work? Not so much.

Here's a direct quote from Rescue Ink's website, "We will stop at nothing within the bounds of the law to protect animals at risk. We will intercede without hesitation when we are informed of a situation that needs to be addressed, and we will address it. If we need to convince people to do the right thing ... we can be very convincing, we'll even buy animals if that's what it takes to get them away from abusers."

I love how they are basically saying, "We know we're a bunch of big scary fuckers, and we're gonna use that power for good, dammit!" Sign me up! I mean, I know I'm not that intimidating at first glance, but that just means that people underestimate me.

Irony?

2009-01-07T08:31:00.004-05:00

A long while ago I picked up a few 2009 calendars when they were on sale at Border's or Barnes and Noble. One of them is a monthly calendar for the wall with fantastic Chagall paintings. It goes very well with my cartoon insect refrigerator magnets. The other one is one of those thing-of-the-day calendars for your desk. I just remembered that I had made this purchase and brought it to work today. The thing-of-the-day I chose? Common Errors in the Usage of the English Language. I am a nerd. Today's error?
presumptious/presumptuous
"Presumptive" has an "I" in it, but "presumptuous" does not.

Netflix Adventures

2009-01-03T22:21:00.006-05:00

This week: Dirty Harry
First impression: I always like a good shoot 'em up flick
Will I watch it again? If I happen upon it in the bargain bin, I'll probably pick it up

Overall I enjoyed watching this movie. The only nagging point I have is why they asked Harry to deliver the ransom the second time. That part just makes no sense to me. This guy has made it absolutely clear that he wants to kill this murderer, and yet they ask him to play along and do what the bad guy says. Unless they knew that he would kill him, and that was what they were counting on...The plot thickens. I'm probably reading way too much into that.
As far as shoot 'em up cop movies go, this is one of the better ones I've seen. There's weren't any wacky explanations about why the killer was doing this. It doesn't matter why he's doing it, what matters is stopping him. It also addresses a flaw in the judicial system when the killer is released because his house was searched without a warrant. I'm not entirely settled on that point anyway, so it's good to see a strong take on how the systems put in place to protect us can also harm us.
One thing I am sure of: I would kill someone to get my hands on this trench coat!

Is that not the most beautiful jacket you have ever seen? I couldn't find any images of it online, so I straight up took these pictures of my tv. I am dedicated. I will have this jacket.

Update: As Pamala pointed out, yes this jacket does look like cheap plastic "leather" in these photos. You will just have to trust me that it looks way better on tv. It's shiny because it is sort of metallic looking. It doesn't look cheap on tv. Yes, somehow shiny+green+metallic+jacket = not cheap looking. Just go with it.

Only Happy When It Rains

2008-12-30T14:58:00.004-05:00

I like lists and I like music!

Here's how it works:
1. Put your music on shuffle. (Yes, it's one of those)
2. For each question, press the next button to get your answer.
3. YOU MUST WRITE THAT SONG NAME DOWN NO MATTER HOW SILLY IT SOUNDS!

Let's go Spod! (Spod=Sarah pod. Because I hate saying ipod.)

1) IF SOMEONE SAYS "IS THIS OKAY" YOU SAY? You Found Me (Kelly Clarkson). Well aren't I cheesy as hell. Or really creepy. Hard to tell really.

2) WHAT WOULD BEST DESCRIBE YOUR PERSONALITY? When You Sleep (Cake). I don't think I'm boring. Maybe it means that I'm like a dream! Yeah, I'm reaching, aren't I?

3) WHAT DO YOU LIKE IN A GUY? Simple Kind Of Love (Maroon Five). Well who wants complicated? Simple is good.

4) HOW DO YOU FEEL TODAY? Sassafras Roots (Green Day). I guess...I did move to "The South" recently.

5) WHAT IS YOUR LIFE'S PURPOSE? I'm A Long Way From Home (Shooter Jennings). Indeed, Spod. Indeed.

6) WHAT IS YOUR MOTTO? I'm A Believer (The Monkees). I'm pretty much the opposite. Unless it means that I believe in science. SCIENCE!

7) WHAT DO YOUR FRIENDS THINK OF YOU? Wonderboy (Tenacious D). Yes, I will vanquish your foes with a mighty sword. Why do you ask?

8) WHAT DO YOU THINK ABOUT VERY OFTEN? A Praise Chorus (Jimmy Eat World). I did watch Sunrise Earth this morning...

9) WHAT IS 2+2? Santeria (Sublime). Well duh. You have two chickens, and then hey presto! Two more chickens! Sort of...

10) WHAT DO YOU THINK OF YOUR BEST FRIEND? Aish Tamid (Matisyahu). Way to go Spod! Bust out the Hebrew song for my Jewish BFF. Good job.

11) WHAT DO YOU THINK OF THE PERSON YOU LIKE? Sonata in F Minor-Allego (Beethoven) Awww, how sweet! Non-classical song: Rockapella (The Brown Derbies) Oh...kay? I definitely like the classical one better.

12) WHAT IS YOUR LIFE STORY? So Like A Rose (Garbage). Yes, it's true. I am hauntingly pretty and I will cut you. For real.

13) WHAT DO YOU WANT TO BE WHEN YOU GROW UP? Stabbing Shadows (Cake). I do try to bring the crazy.

14) WHAT DO YOU THINK WHEN YOU SEE THE PERSON YOU LIKE? All The Photographs (Sea and Cake). He does take an absurd amount of photographs...

15) WHAT DO YOUR PARENTS THINK OF YOU? The Sun (Maroon Five). Yeah, they're pretty proud of me. Because I'm awesome.

16)WHAT WILL YOU DANCE TO AT YOUR WEDDING? Sweetest Goodbye (Maroon Five). Because that's not fucked up at all. Yup. Totally appropriate wedding song.

17) WHAT WILL THEY PLAY AT YOUR FUNERAL? Easy Living (Billie Holiday). I like it. Nice and sad, but also sort of hopeful.

18) WHAT IS YOUR HOBBY/INTEREST? Two Coins (Dispatch). I do have a habit of picking up coins. Mama does it too. We both seem to find coins everywhere we go.

19) WHAT IS YOUR BIGGEST SECRET? Luchenback Texas (Waylon Jennings Willie Nelson). Alright fine. I like country music. There. I said it. I especially like old school country.

20) WHAT DO YOU THINK OF YOUR FRIENDS? Dolphin (Poe). Dolphins are happy and social. It fits.

21) WHAT'S THE WORST THING THAT COULD HAPPEN? Incinerate (The Sonic Youth). I do live in constant fear of being set on fire.

22) HOW WILL YOU DIE? Never (The Cure). That's awesome. I'm INVINCIBLE! Hell yes!

23) WHAT IS THE ONE THING YOU REGRET? Island of the Honest Man (Hot Hot Heat). I got nothing.

24) WHAT MAKES YOU LAUGH? Scarlet Begonias (Sublime). My cats used to play in the giant begonia bush in my front yard. I'll take it.

25) WHAT MAKES YOU CRY? I'll Be-Acoustic (Edwin McCain). Unrequited love is sad. :(

26) WILL YOU EVER GET MARRIED? Popstars (Rooney). And just what do you mean by that, Spod?

27) WHAT SCARES YOU THE MOST? Daylight Robbery (Imogen Heap). People are getting shot left and right out here. Not good times.

28) DOES ANYONE LIKE YOU? Just What I Needed (The Brown Derbies). Oh, the Spod is being sarcastic today. Funny. You little mah-chine. I could crush you...

29) IF YOU COULD GO BACK IN TIME, WHAT WOULD YOU CHANGE? When You Love Someone (Bryan Adams). You're right, I would change the fact that I ever put Bryan Adams on the Spod.

30) WHAT HURTS RIGHT NOW? New Deep (John Mayer). (Ok, ok, I take it back. I won't crush you. Just stop embarrassing me.)

31) WHAT WILL YOU POST THIS AS? Only Happy When It Rains (Garbage). Interestingly, already a post title.

32) HOW DOES THE WORLD SEE YOU? Clockwatching (Jason Mraz). I do tend to fidget. And I like to be on time.

33)WILL I HAVE A HAPPY LIFE? Water Music, Suite in D Major, Alla hornpipe (Handel). So, yes. Sweet. Non-classical version: Hide Your Love Away (Dispatch and Howie Day cover) On the other hand, not so much.

34)WHAT DO MY FRIENDS REALLY THINK OF ME? Wake Me Up When September Ends (Green Day). So...they think I need a Xanax?

35) DO PEOPLE SECRETLY LUST AFTER ME? You've Got A Friend (James Taylor). HAH!

36) HOW CAN I MAKE MYSELF HAPPY? Wolf Like Me (TV On The Radio). I should join a pack? Or kill people? I'll take option two.

37)WHAT SHOULD I DO WITH MY LIFE? Evil (Interpol). Check!

38) WILL I EVER HAVE CHILDREN? Platypus (I Hate You) (Green Day). Well, yes. I don't care for kids so much.

39) WHAT IS SOME GOOD ADVICE FOR ME? Bleed Black (A.F.I.). But I don't want to be a vampire!

40) HOW WILL I BE REMEMBERED? Solitude (Billie Holiday). Well that's just great.

41) WHAT IS MY SIGNATURE DANCING SONG? I Wanna Sex You Up (Color Me Bad). I have been know to bust a move to some 80s/90s pop. Ain't nothing wrong with that.

42)WHAT DO I THINK IS MY CURRENT SIGNATURE SONG? If You Only Knew (Maroon Five). Apparently the Spod is being secretive. Please? Pretty please?

43) WHAT DOES EVERYONE THINK MY SONG IS? Cry (James Blunt). Way harsh, Spod. Waaaay harsh.

44) WHAT TYPE OF MEN DO YOU LIKE? Romeo (Sublime). Yes, please kill yourself.

45) WHAT IS MY DAY GOING TO BE LIKE? On The Wagon (Green Day). This right after I had a conversation with my coworker about getting some eggnog to put my rum in.

Netflix Adventures

2008-12-21T12:43:00.004-05:00

How it all started.

This week: Heathers

First impression: wicked and funny and disturbing
Will I watch it again: I think I have to

I had heard a lot about this movie, and I had some idea that it was pretty fucked up. But I had no idea just how fuck up it really is. Or how much I would laugh. I do have a morbid sense of humor, so it was sort of a given that I would enjoy it. There were part of it that I don't really get, for lack of a better phrase. For instance, Veronica bounces back and forth from being insightful and ashamed of her actions to oblivious and not as good of a person as she claims to be. She is indignant that Heather #1 "forces" her to write a note to The Fat Girl that will make it seem like The Football Star wants to have sex with her. Granted, this situation is uncomfortable and mean, but no one is physically hurt. I'm not saying that non-physical hurts are less significant, just hear me out. Later, after agreeing to go on a double date with Heather #2, the four of them (Heather, Veronica and the two football players) end up in a field tipping cows. Well, the guys are anyway. After said cow-tipping, Veronica is fending off the drunken flirtation of her football guy when Christian Slater (I don't remember the characters name) shows up to take her away. While Veronica and Christian Slater are talking, in the background Heather is on the ground with her football player on top of her. Heather is trying vainly to push him away, while he alternately grabs her face and kisses her and hold down her arms. With this scene playing out behind her, Veronica takes off.
It's that type of action that makes Veronica just a little bit hard to believe as a character. She is self-righteous when the Heathers are taking advantage of someone, yet when one of the Heathers is being taken advantage of, Veronica doesn't give a shit.
It also bothered me that Veronica was sort of stupid. She had this sort of tra-la-la everything is going to be fine now attitude, in spite of everything getting worse with each death. When she finally figures out how to beat Christian Slater at his own game, she doesn't even prepare! She just wanders around the school looking for him. Yeah, yeah, she had a gun. As with all confront-the-evil-mastermind-and-foil-his-dastardly-plot scenes, he easily took her gun away. After a brief fight, she got it back and saved the day. I'm pretty sure that scene had been done.
I'm probably giving the impression that I dislike this movie, but that's not the case. I did really like it and I do want to watch it again to catch some background things I'm sure I missed. These are just my nitpicks with the movie. Or the character.
As a final note, I would like to mention that I was incredibly distracted by how Christian Slater sounds exactly like Jack Nicholson. They need to do a father/son movie. Seriously.

Netflix Adventures

2008-12-17T08:33:00.001-05:00

As a result of my new Netflix account, I have decided that I am going to watch all of those great movies that everyone loves, but no one I know has actually seen. This series will be about my reactions to these movies, whether or not I liked them, and why. Please feel free to suggest movies for me to add to my queue.

This week: Some Like it Hot

First impression: Such a fun movie

Will I watch it again: Absolutely

I had never seen Marilyn Monroe in a movie before (remember the whole point of this adventure) and I was impressed by what a great actress she really was. After watching her steal every single scene she was in from other fantastic actors, I can completely understand why the entire nation was captivated by her. She was unbelievably sexy, in the truest sense of the word. Not the way it is commonly used now, to denote anything even slightly good. I mean that her every movement made you think about sex. At the same time, there was something about her that was very vulnerable and made me feel like I wanted to take care of her, be her friend, and help her out. She managed to contain that dichotomy without ever seeming insincere. No wonder she remains such an icon.

As far as the rest of the movie, I was thoroughly entertained by it. Even though it was fairly predictable, I was never bored. It probably helps that I love a good slapstick; Arsenic and Old Lace is one of my favorite movies. I love kooky. When I was younger, I made my family watch Noises Off! over and over until they could quote it verbatim.

The Candy Idiots Strike Again

2008-12-08T14:59:00.000-05:00

ARGH! I hate everyone and everything right now! I just unwrapped a nice little candy cane and stuck it in my mouth, only to be taste-slapped with strawberry. When will the madness end? What, in the name of all that is good and holy, is wrong with candy makers? If it looks like mint, it should taste like goddamn mint!

Netflix Adventures

2008-12-08T09:49:00.000-05:00

So I finally joined the Netflix bandwagon, and I must say that it is better than I thought it would be. My only quibble is that it is difficult to move the movies around in my queue. I want to drag-and-drop them, but I can't, and when I type in the line number that I want it to go to, it ends up a few lines above or below where I want it, so I have to move it again. Unless I am retarded, which is always a possibility. Let me know.

First up, Casablanca.

First impression: enjoyable

Will I watch it again: probably not

I typically don't like film noir, so I was a little surprised that I was sucked into this story so quickly. I think it helped that there were not that many shots where someone was lingering in a shadow looking contemplative for five minutes without any action or dialogue. The pace of the movie was good, alternating between fast and slow. I wasn't really surprised by any of the plot twists, but that isn't something that I need for a movie to be good. Ricardo watched this one with me, but since he wasn't able to keep his trap shut and just watch it, I don't think that he will be joining me again. I can understand him needing clarification about the setting of the movie, since his world history is not that great, but I have to draw that line at him announcing "This girl is so stupid. She doesn't know about life." Which may be true, but keep it to yourself. One thing that he and I both agreed on is that people in general were more attractive back then than they are now.

Next up: Breakfast at Tiffany's

First impression: LOVED IT!

Will I watch it again: definitely

I absolutely adored this movie. The life that Lula Mae made up for herself, the shades of her past that you could always see just under the surface of everything that Holly Golightly did, the extravagance, the austerity, the clothes. I sincerely have nothing bad to say about this movie. It made me miss a time I have never experienced and it made me smile and laugh and cry.

And third, A Streetcar Named Desire

First impression: Marlon Brando was HOT! My goodness...(fans self)

Will I watch it again: not likely, or at least it will be on mute and fast forwarded when Stanley is not on screen

I have some mixed feelings about this movie. I was annoyed by Blanche, mesmerized by Stanley, and I constantly forgot about Stella when she wasn't on the screen. I also had a hard time understanding what was going on. There were tons of ambiguous statements and significant looks, but nothing was ever brought out in the open to my satisfaction. I'm still not sure what happened. Which is probably how I am supposed to feel, but I still don't like it much.

Juxtaposition

2008-12-06T13:38:00.000-05:00

I have some very contradictory values, which I somehow place equal importance on in my own personal morality. For instance, I think that individual rights are extremely important, but at the same time I think that killing one person in order to save many others is perfectly acceptable. Freedom of expression, to me, is the essence of humanity. At the same time, I often say that people who say stupid or irrational things should be hit with sticks. I think that abortion is a highly personal, individual choice that the government has no business regulating, but I also think that there should be restrictions on who is allowed to have children. I value rational and critical thinking above all else, yet I regularly make decisions based on intuition and impulse. I think that prejudice is irrational and inexcusable, but I believe that your appearance is important and frequently make fun of how people are dressed. I also do not dress that well myself. I am cognizant of the manipulation techniques of advertising, yet I buy a lot of name brand items even though the generic version is cheaper. I think that the amount of attention paid to idiotic celebrities is disgusting, but I frequent gossip websites and stay updated on the state of Heidi and Spencer's relationship and Britney Spears's mental health. I think that Dr. Phil gives psychology a bad name, yet I find myself watching his show.
How is it possible to have completely opposite beliefs at the same time? How do I contain these contradictions in my mind without them cancelling each other out? I can't even rationalize a way to hold these opposing beliefs at the same time. Maybe the sum of a person's personality is made up of their contradictions.

It's Not A Tumor!

2008-11-21T09:39:00.000-05:00

A few years ago, during my Senior year of college, I found a lump on the back of my head, in this general area:
It didn't hurt at all, and was sort of squishy and a little mobile. A little while after I first noticed it, I went to the eye doctor to have a eye exam done. I have terrible vision, so I get an eye exam about once a year to make sure that my prescription is accurate. I mentioned the lump for some reason of other to the eye doctor, who promptly told me that there was a good chance that it was a tumor and set me up on a series of tests to determine if the tumor was affecting my optic nerve. The most disturbing part of the whole thing was that she basically talked about the possibility that I had a brain tumor in the same manner that another person would discuss the weather.
Most of the tests that I had done that day were inconclusive, so I went to Student Health to talk to an actual doctor. I explained to her how long the lump had been there and the eye doctor's concern that it was a tumor. The doctor proceeded to feel my lump and "hmm" to herself. After a few minutes of this, she told me that she wanted another doctor to consult with her about it. She brought in another doctor, and the two of them stood over me, prodding the lump on the back of my head and saying, "I don't know, what do you think it is?" I was not amused.
The first doctor set up an appointment for an MRI for me, which I was not too excited about, since being in enclosed places freaks me right the hell out. As my friends know, I am uncomfortable if I can't see the door. Pamala always let's me choose where I want to sit at restaurants, one of the many reasons why I love her. But I digress. So, I went and submitted myself to an MRI of my head, which was one of the least fun things I have ever done. For those of you who have never had an MRI, it is loud, which is enough to freak you out even if you don't care about a giant machine suspended a mere inch above your nose.
The results of my MRI? Inconclusive. But they were able to rule out it being a tumor, so that was an improvement. But I still had a mystery lump on my head. The next candidate for what it could be was a blocked blood vessel, so I was set up for an ultrasound on my lump.
By this time my wonderful roommates were doing all they could to make the situation funny. There were jokes about my brain trying to escape, alien pods, and super powers. They even named my lump Noam. I was taking a linguistics class at that time. I'm sure that about two people who read this will get that joke.
So I went to have my ultrasound, which involved a bunch of very cold goo in my hair and the technician going, "Hhmmmm...I don't seem to be seeing anything here..." for about half an hour. They were able to determine that I did not have a blocked blood vessel. However, no one was ever able to figure out what it actually was. It magically disappeared a few weeks later.

Now it's back. It seems to be different this time. For one thing, it is painful, even when I am not poking at it. It also seems to be two small lumps that are very close together. At least, it hurts in two distinct places on the lump. One part on the bottom, and another part on the top left. The bottom is much more painful than the top.
All I have to say about this is what the fuck!

Number Four Has A Secret

2008-11-19T14:25:00.000-05:00

One of the biggest events in Santa Barbara is Halloween. The area adjacent to UCSB campus, Isla Vista (I.V. to locals) transforms into a six-block-long, three-street-wide, contiguous outdoor party. There are mounted police. The horses wear riot gear. It is, in a word, intense. And incredibly fun.

The year that we lived with Number Four we learned that she had never dressed up for Halloween past the age of ten or so (again, crazy mom). Since I had already been exposed to the horrors contained in her closet, I knew there was a gold mine in there for a classic "Fashion Victim" costume. I had her go throw on a bunch of random clothes and then did her hair and makeup. The results were fairly spectacular, but sort of...off course from the original goal.

Here, take a look:

The most common statement we heard about this costume was, "That is an awesome girl costume!" As in, they thought it was a guy, dressed up as a girl...yeah...

We sort of had a conspiracy theory about Number Four. For a long time we suspected that she was a hermaphrodite, or possibly transgendered. Did I mention that we are also kind of horrible people? The thing is, we had quite a bit of evidence. That photo is Exhibit One, if you will. There was also the fact that she told us she had to start taking birth control to induce her period, which was a rather strange thing to share with people she had only moved in with a week prior. Or to share at all, really. That seems to me like the kind of thing you keep to yourself.

Further evidence was that she never really seemed to enjoy the greatness that was The Mens Room. The Mens Room was Pamala and Number Four's bathroom. Since we only had one shower in the apartment, their bathroom consisted of a toilet in a room. By itself. Just a toilet. Weird, right? So we completely plastered the walls with pictures of hot men that we cut out of magazines. It was a very elaborate construction; there were little scenes throughout the room. I have no idea how there are no pictures of this, but alas, there are none. What can I say, sometimes college makes you dumb. But anyway, Pamala, Orly and I would constantly add to The Mens Room, but never once did Number Four clip out a picture of a hot man from a magazine. I'm not sure how that contributes to the Number-Four-is-a-hermaphrodite theory, but it does.

Another piece of pseudo-evidence was her mismatched brothers. Like you would expect, she had a weird brother (he of the sweet-potato-pie incident). But she also had a completely normal brother. Not the kind of guy I would personally be friends with, as he seemed more like the frat brother kind of guy, but far more normal than you would suspect. Also, her weird brother was not weird like she was, he was actually just normal-weird. The kind of weird that you are comfortable with. Sort of...late-bloomer, band-geek, video-gaming kind of weird. How is this evidence, you ask? Well, it is a bit of a stretch, but stay with me. It goes like this: if Number Four had two brothers, both relatively normal, then it stands to reason that she should fall within that same spectrum of relative normality. But that was not the case. So something must have been very different about Number Four that set her so far apart from her brothers. Add to that the fact that she was just, well, mannish, and presto! You have our Number Four is a Hermaphrodite Conspiracy Theory. It also fits in with her batshit crazy mom (yes, I'm going to continue to string that one out).

In closing, I leave you with this:

Mumbo, Jumbo, get me some EGGS!

2008-11-10T14:39:00.000-05:00

I don't have anything in particular to write about, other than I am incredibly unmotivated to work today. Big surprise, right?
I just read my November horoscope on astrologyzone.com, and check this out:

Saturn will remind you that there are family members who deeply love you and depend on you. You are a towering figure to your family, and you shape their very lives and their futures, and by that I mean both the very young and the very old in your family.

How creepy is that? Not to mention, no pressure! And then it gets even better, describing how December is basically going to suck hard for me. Yay.

Other than that, I am not doing a whole lot. I'm on the prowl for a decent looking couch that won't clash with my randomly orange fireplace and dark cherry floor. I'm thinking purple might just do the trick. And where does one go for a purple couch you ask? Ikea, naturally.

I got an email from Mama's aunt who lives in Tallahassee today, inviting me and Richardo out there for Thanksgiving. And just like that, Richardo will now be in daily use. I'm trying to decide between Richard-o and Rich-ardo for the pronunciation. I'm leaning toward the latter. It makes me giggle more.

What else...Oh, I've been watching all the past seasons of How I Met Your Mother, and I am horribly and pathetically sad that the characters on that show a) are not real and b) are not my actual friends. At the end of the gag reel on season two, they all sit at their table and sing the theme song and it made me tear up! This is on top of having a dream wherein Barney was my friend. I officially have problems.

Goosebumps

2008-11-05T07:14:00.001-05:00

I am so proud of my country right now. I can't stop smiling!

Hello, Hello

2008-11-03T10:41:00.000-05:00

I am finally finished with my monster project at work, so I can now return to the important things in life, like posting about the freakish weather in Florida. Because holy hell people! One week it is in the nineties, the next week it's raining and in the seventies, then it's in the fifties and windy and below freezing at night, and now this week it's back to raining and in the seventies. I never know what kind of clothes to put on in the morning! At least now we have daylight savings time, so I am no longer trying to get ready for work before the sun is up. There is something very difficult about that for me, psychologically.
Anyway. I've been living in Florida for just over a month now, and so far I like it. It's hard not having anyone I can randomly call up and do things with, but I can usually drag Ricardo with me. But that brings up my question: how do you make friends in a new town when you are not in some sort of school situation? My coworkers are all older than me, married, and have young children, so they are not exactly friend-material. Should I be going out to bars and meeting people? I feel like that would get very awkward very quickly. Another part of this problem is that I don't really know how to approach women. Wow, that sounds weird. Ok, I know how to make friends with guys. Guys are easy. How do you make friends with women when there is not a built in situation for continued exposure?

Stay Tuned

2008-10-27T07:39:00.000-04:00

I should be back to posting regularly at the end of this week. I hope.

(You're No) Friend Of Mine

2008-09-17T16:33:00.000-04:00

I haven't ever posted anything really political on this blog, mainly because I am not that interested in politics and political shenanigans. I don't like to write about stuff that bores me. I'm not funny if I'm bored with the subject, and I like to be funny.

However.

Yesterday a friend of mine, whom I normally consider intelligent and logical, said that he supports Sarah Palin. I'm a little dumbfounded by this. I've been thinking about this every since, and I've come to the conclusion that he is either a) not the person I thought he was, or b) not listening to a word she says.

For anyone to agree with such rampant hypocrisy is mind boggling to me. How can anyone listen to a her expound on the effectiveness of abstinence-only education when there is living, breathing proof of its inadequacy standing two feet to her left? For the record, I could give a rat's ass that her seventeen year old daughter is pregnant. Obviously it is not an ideal situation. In and of itself, not political in the slightest. But Palin made it political by shoving her agenda in our faces with her daughter standing next to her putting lie to her every statement. Abstinence-only education simply does not work. I bet if someone told Bristol that she could have prevented this pregnancy by simply taking a pill or having her boyfriend wear a condom, she would break into hysterics. I know I would. Her entire view on women's rights is an antiquated agenda, which includes such gems as forcing rape victims to pay for their own "rape kits" in order to gather evidence against their attackers, wanting to overturn Roe v. Wade, even in the case of rape or incest, and cutting funding for single mothers (who shouldn't have gotten pregnant in the first place, never mind if they were raped. Obviously they deserved it.).

Beyond the domestic sphere, her views on foreign policy are, literally, terrifying. In an interview with Charlie Gibson, she demonstrated that she clearly has no idea what the Bush Doctrine is. The Bush Doctrine states that the United States should depose foreign regimes that represented a threat to the security of the United States, even if that threat was not immediate. What this boils down to is that we have the right of anticipatory self-defense, that we have the right to a preemptive strike against any other country that we think is going to attack us. Pretty simple concept.

In that same interview, Sarah Palin also said, "that is the agreement when you are a NATO ally, is if another country is attacked, you're going to be expected to be called upon and help. And we've got to keep an eye on Russia. For Russia to have exerted such pressure in terms of invading a smaller democratic country, unprovoked, is unacceptable." (Russia's "exertion of pressure" was not unprovoked, by the way. Russia and Georgia fought a five-day war in August when Russian troops poured into South Ossetia to repel an attack by Tbilisi's forces.) So let's review. If Georgia were a member of NATO, and Russia responded to military action with military action, the US would be expected to go to war with Russia. Russia. They have nuclear weapons. Just thought I'd remind you, in case you forgot about the Cold War.

How about this: does the Bush Doctrine only apply to the US? Are we the only nation allowed to defend itself with a preemptive strike? What if Dmitry Medvedev likes the way Bush thinks?

It is entirely possible that, were Sarah Palin to get into the White House, she could say something that would represent a threat to Russia, especially considering that she already has. If Russia were to perceive a threat, according to the Bush Doctrine, it would be perfectly reasonable for them to attack the US.

And my friend wants to vote for all of this?

Time In A Bottle(neck)

2008-09-16T16:59:00.000-04:00

I am moving across the entire continent in three and a half days.

I'm mostly excited, with a touch of nervous. I'm mainly nervous about the trip itself, not about actually living in Jacksonville. I think I will really enjoy living there. I'm particularly excited about being able to afford an apartment bigger than my office, with a backyard to boot! I got a cute 1950s duplex with two bedrooms, a fireplace, and a washer and dryer. Very exciting!

I don't have much else to talk about, since we aren't actually leaving until Saturday. I have almost no furniture in my apartment, which is a nice change from having it filled up with boxes. For a while we had a one foot wide pathway from room to room. The movers came to take everything last week, and now we just have things to sell/donate, and we are set. I feel like I still have so much time, but I totally don't. Three days is not much time, especially when we still need to clean everything. And I need to go to at least two happy hours. Speaking of which, I need to go set up Thursday night...

Too Much Food On My Plate

2008-09-04T11:18:00.000-04:00

To Do:

Finish packing
Send rent check
Turn on electricity and cable at new apartment
Make E-vite for my last weekend in California
Call movers with questions
Finish 2 1/2 projects at work by tomorrow
Sell Abe
Deal with the movers next Tuesday
Get at least halfway through three other projects at work
Finish a bunch of administrative stuff for my replacement for my old job
Finalize our route across the country
Do at least three things that I can't remember right now
Leave California on September 20 at the crack of dawn

Coast To Coast

2008-07-30T13:26:00.000-04:00

I'm not entirely sure where to start this post, so I guess I'll just dive right in.

On September 20th-ish, I'm moving across the country to Florida. Crazy, right? Here's how that came about. The company I work for has locations all over the place. I applied for a job at the Jacksonville, Florida business unit, and I got the job. Which is awesome, since it's in a new department and I got a raise. But now I have to live in Florida, the state where much of the nation's more amusing stupid criminal stories originate. Plus, hurricanes.

But then again, no earthquakes.
Everything still feels mildly surreal, and September seems like forever from now, even though it is only seven weeks away. I've been looking for an apartment, but not really applying anywhere. That mostly has to do with my sucky credit, which I've made serious progress on these past few months. I've gone from "high-risk" to "medium-risk", but it's still not pretty.
The thing that has suddenly made everything seem very real is that there is a person coming to look at my car today and potentially buy it from me. I posted an ad for it two days ago, thinking that it would take a while to sell a Ford Escort, even if it's in good condition, but I got an almost immediate response. So now I'm trying to figure out how Ricardo and I would work around having only one car for over a month. Fun times.
We also need to go through everything in storage and get rid of stuff. That is mainly going to be Ricardo's job, since he literally has giant bags of clothing in there. I don't get it either.
Another pressing matter is figuring out if it will be feasible to get married before moving to Florida. Obviously, it would be nice to get married in Santa Barbara, since more people would be able to attend. But we don't really have traditional views on marriage in the first place, and it's not at the top of the Shit We Need To Do Before We Move list. And as easy as it would be to hit Vegas on our way, I'm pretty sure that several people would crucify me. So I feel a list-making session coming on. Even if is it physically possible, it still might not be financially. Well, okay, actually getting married would be easy. It the rest of it that would be costly and take planning. Even for the small-scale "wedding" I want, which basically ends up just being a reception, but more cocktail party-esque. Ugh, I just don't even want to think about it.

More Than Words

2008-07-17T12:09:00.000-04:00

Oh HELL yes, there is going to be Rock of Love 3!

http://blog.vh1.com/2008-07-16/rock-of-love-3-its-onwith-bret/?source=hp_blog

Oh sweet baby Jesus, they're going to film it on a tour bus.

Did they say...Truck Stop Olympics?!?!?

Ooh, shiny...

2008-07-16T11:13:00.000-04:00

My cat totally watches tv with me.

Not even Animal Planet. We were watching So You Think You Can Dance? She watched almost half of it, but then one of the couples danced a really boring routine and she lost interest.

Sunshine (Come On Ladies)

2008-07-11T11:15:00.000-04:00

Last weekend most of the girls I've lived with came to Santa Barbara for our semi-annual Roommate Reunion. It was a blast. After people arrived, we headed down to our favorite Italian place for lunch and stuffed ourselves on garlic rolls. Mmmm, garlic...Then we headed back to Pamala's at a very leisurely pace, stopping at the store for provisions. The evening was spent drinking Mai Tais and scheduling cooking around the power outages, thanks to the raging forest fire about fifteen miles away. We managed to grill it up though, and had a feast. We tried to play a board game (how exciting are we?), we even set it up, but no one could focus long enough to understand the rules. We ate and spent many hours talking. More on that later.
Saturday we breakfasted and then went wine tasting for a few hours. We saw an amazing white trash couple while we were drinking too. They both had long super-frizzy hair, the guy even had bangs! He wore the requisite faded, torn-up and stained jeans, while she wore short short jean shorts that had been rolled up so as to be even shorter than they were intended to be. But the best part was her "shirt". She was actually wearing a bandanna tied around her chest! I had never seen that in real life before, and I grew up in a town where people lived in tents in trailer parks! They were made for each other, I tell you. After wine tasting we had a quick lunch and went and lounged at the beach. Two of the ladies took the Longest Walk on the Beach EVER, and when they finally came back to the rest of us, who were huddled together and shivering, we went back home to change and head out to dinner.
Dinner was at a new restaurant for us, which has subsequently been removed from the list of acceptable places to eat. Our waitress may have been legitimately retarded, and later that night three or four of us didn't feel well at all. After dinner, we ended up at Tonic, per usual. Pamala's boyfriend (she actually called him that yesterday!) Chris and his pals showed up, and Ricardo joined us later. When we first arrived, we quickly noticed one lady in particular, as she was rather difficult to miss. She was a somewhat larger person, wearing an unfortunate white tube top dress that came to just past right there. She was even more unfortunately attempting to pole dance and give a lap dance to a couch. We shook our heads at the rampant lack of self awareness and went about our business. There was dancing and laughing and drinking and going outside because it was too hot. One of the times I went back inside was a shocker though. I wandered a bit until I saw one of my girls, who then ran over to me and said, "Oh my God, the crazy girl hit Emily in the head!" Apparently the erstwhile amateur pole dancer had taken offense at Emily for no discernible reason. Tube Top was shuffling through the crowd when she spotted Emily and suddenly changed her trajectory. Tube Top gained momentum and launched herself up and punched Emily in the side of the head, which is amazing in and of itself, since Tube Top was about five three and Emily is about five nine or ten. There was much restraining on both sides, Tube Top was kicked out, and Emily was taken outside to cool down. She was totally fine, if a bit confused and shaken up. The rest of the night was uneventful, and the next day we said our goodbyes until our next event.
I love those girls.

England (Part I)

2008-06-23T14:17:00.000-04:00

After I left Galway at 6:00 in the morning, I traveled by bus all the way across Ireland back to Dublin. I think I got to Dublin at about 4:00 PM. It was the longest bus ride of my life. Then I hopped on the ferry and rode across the Irish Sea over to Wales. This was the only point in all my voyages that I was ever in Wales. It became a running joke between my friends and I. We would be discussing weekend trip plans, and someone would suggest Wales. Then there would be a pause. Then someone else would say, "Let's go to Italy." Then the joke became "Let's go to Wales." "No one goes to Wales!" Maybe you had to be there. Where was I? Right, in the ferry. So I got off the ferry in Wales, and interestingly did not have to go through any sort of customs-type area. So I don't have a stamp in my passport for the first time I entered Great Britain. Wacky.

So here's where things got really fun. I couldn't check into my summer session in Brighton until the next day, and it was about 6:00 or 7:00 PM and I was in Wales. All two of the hostels anywhere near the station I was in were completely full. Maybe it was even as late as 8:00 PM. I ended up catching the last train out of Wales to London. When I arrived in London, it was to Euston Station, which is ghetto as hell. Like, creepy ghetto. So I took a bus over to Victoria Station, which is where I needed to go to get a train to Brighton anyway. This whole thing was way more dramatic at the time. I was constantly on the phone with Mama, and we were both freaking each other out about where I was and what I was doing. As usual, she was much more freaked out than me. So anyway. I took a double-decker bus across London.

I'm glad that the first time I did that it was dark out or I may have had a panic attack. So I got to Victoria Station at I don't even know what time. Late. Very very late. Or early, depending on how you view time. I asked around and discovered that there were not many hostels in Brighton, and the chances of me finding a bed in one at that hour were exactly zero. As far as staying somewhere in London, the only places with vacancies were fancy hotels, which I couldn't even begin to afford. So I reluctantly came to the conclusion that I was stuck at the train station until the next morning. After traveling alone for two weeks already, I wasn't too fazed about sleeping on train station chairs. Then I had a bit of a rude awakening. It turns out that Victoria Station has a huge problem with vagrants, so they kick everyone who is not getting on a train right now out of the station at night. So I spent my first night in London here:

(Obviously we went back later to document the place) There were lots of other folks out there with me, stuck in the same situation, and there was a guard monitoring the gate literally three feet away from me. But still. Major suckage. The entire city of London becomes a wind tunnel at like 3:00 AM. It was freezing cold. I kept pulling various articles of clothing out of my backpack and putting them on. Finally it was morning and time to get on yet another train, this time to Brighton. It may have had something to do with sleep deprivation, but I was not paying attention to the stops for the train. Instead of getting off at the station that is literally across the street from Sussex University (where I had summer session), I took the train all the way into Brighton itself. Then I had to take about three buses back to the university, and I still ended up walking a long, long way. Finally, after over twenty-four hours of straight traveling, I arrived at Sussex University and my very own flat:

I nearly wept with joy.

Ireland (Part I)

2008-06-16T16:02:00.000-04:00

I finally got my Picasa Web Albums fully uploaded and current, so now I can start on a new series I've been itching to write: Places I've Been.
I'm starting with the oldest pictures I have and working my way forward in time. Basically my plan to to stick a few photos in a post and write whatever that photo triggers in my memory. This should be interesting since a lot of my pictures have associated memories like "That's a tree." and "We were somewhere. It was pretty. I took this picture."

Up first: Ireland!

This is one of the first pictures I took in Ireland, if not the first. It's a little hard to see, but in the window above the door is the word "Elsinore", which is the name of the town I grew up in. It's also a really cool door. I've always liked the idea of colorful doors.

I'm usually not a big cross person, but this one really caught my eye. I was in St. Patrick's Cathedral, and most of the other crosses were very elaborate, making the elegant simplicity of this one all the more striking.

The stained glass was equally phenomenal. It was very hard to photograph though, since any amount of flash would make it disappear. My hands shake, so holding the no-flash camera steady enough to get a decent picture was a painstaking endeavor.

This is the floor of St. Patrick's Cathedral. Again, really hard to photograph. But also so very awesome. Which I guess is what you want in a church, right?

"Braaaaaaaaiiiiinnnnssssssss..." Saint Patrick's gonna git you! Aaaannnd I'm going to hell...

Did I mention that it's huge? You can also see more of the floor in this shot. I love how the area where the two sections cross (whatever it's called) is completely lit up compared to the rest of the church. I think I had managed to go on a weekday afternoon, so it was very uncrowded. That definitely helped maintain the hushed sense of awe that such a large elaborate space creates.

Moving on to more fun things. The Brazen Head is supposedly the oldest pub in Dublin. It is certainly the most expensive. I still had a pint there though. The story I patchily remember is that some woman stuck her head out of the window to yell at someone when something fell on her head. She was completely fine, so they said her head must have been made of bronze, hence brazen.

A significant portion of my trip through Ireland went like this:

Ireland is pretty. And green. Very, very green.

Very pretty. Very green.

Hey, look! A castle!

Rinse, repeat.

Cutest hostel ever, right? I ended up there completely on accident too. I was trying to go from Dublin to Kenmare and after I got off the train in Killarney I discovered that I had missed the last bus to Kenmare. So I had to find a place to stay. The hostel closest to the bus station was full, but they pointed me to this one. I loved Killarney and this hostel so much the I ended up staying there for four days and going back three or four times. The town itself is tiny, about five streets total, plus some narrow alleys. Killarney boasts the highest pub count for a town in Ireland. Those five streets contain somewhere between 85 and 100 pubs, depending on your source. I tend to believe it, since most of the shops either contained a pub, were above a pub, or were next to a pub. You can see why I kept coming back.

The hostel was also run by this crazy Polish man who jumped off of the top bunk after changing the sheets and yelled "Batman!" I don't have a picture of the interior, but it was fantastic. You can see a tiny bit of it in the above picture. Stone floors, huge beams in the ceiling that had all manner of crap hanging off of them, walls plastered with photographs, and huge tables. Oh, and this cracked-out chessboard. See how many non-traditional pieces you can find:

It was good times at that hostel. The next hostel was not so good times.

This was the road to the hostel in Cork that I stayed in when I went to visit Blarney Castle. Cork sucks. The only reason to go to Cork is if you hate yourself or you are going to Blarney but you can't pay for a fancy-shmancy hotel in Blarney itself.

Blarney Castle. Waaaaaaaay up at the top of that tower (No, the other tower. The tall one. Yeah, up there.) is the Blarney Stone. I'm not going to tell you the history of the Stone or why you are supposed to kiss it. Go wikipedia it. I will tell you that it ain't easy.

Told you so. There were grandmas doing it! I don't have problems with heights, and I had to close my eyes.

After kissing the Blarney Stone, I went back to Killarney to take a driving tour of the Dingle Peninsula, which juts out of the west coast of Ireland. (Heh, Dingle...Hi, I'm an eight year old boy.) It's also very pretty, in a more severe sort of way. It looks like this:

The story behind this picture is that some Irish folk hero (Cuchulain? Finn MacCool? Wait, aren't those the same guy?) who was a giant is sleeping off the coast, waiting for something or other to wake him up. Hence the name of this island, The Sleeping Giant.

This pony was near my hostel in Doolin. He was nice. I petted him. Doolin is a tiny town (only three pubs!) that is the closest place to the Cliff of Moher, one of the most photographed places on the planet.

Understandably so. They are I don't know how tall and absolutely breathtaking.

One of the many amazing things that happened to me on this trip were the fires in Doolin. Once every summer, each town piles a bunch of stuff up and lights it on fire. My theory is that this is a relic from Beltane fires. I just happened to be in Doolin the night that the fires were lit. In addition to our fire, I could see other fires along the river into the distance.

My trip to Galway consisted of: Hey look, there's Galway! The next morning I awoke at 5:00 AM to embark on the longest and most miserable bit of traveling I've ever done.

The Itchy and Scratchy Show

2008-05-29T14:24:00.000-04:00

I went to the allergist this morning for the first time ever. I've had vague allergies pretty much all of my life; itchy eyes, runny nose, sneezing, what have you. But my brother had much more severe, even life-threatening allergies as a child, so we were a bit more focused on that than on my sneezing fits, even though they are a thing to behold. It's a family trait. My dad has actually knocked himself unconscious by sneezing. I have so far managed to avoid that, but I do startle people on a regular basis.
Anyway.
The way an allergy test works is they have these disk that have needles that each have something that you might be allergic to on them. Four of these disks full of little needles are pressed into the skin of your back. Good times. Then whatever you have a reaction to indicates an allergy. There are cases where it is hard to tell if you are having a reaction or not. In those cases, they take a syringe and inject whatever you are having a borderline reaction deeper into your skin. Better times.
I am allergic to:
1. Dust mites (both varieties)
These little fuckers eat dead skin cells and live inside your mattress and pillows! How gross is that?

2. Cockroaches (no, seriously) EEEEEWWWWWWWWW!!! I kept asking the doctor, "Seriously? Cockroaches?" He assured me that it's true.

3. Cats
Like my darling kitteh Singe here. Sad.

4. Dogs. Also sad. I love dogs.

5. Yellow dock (some sort of weed)

Which grows all over the place. Yay.

5. Coastal sagebrush

Where do I live again? Oh yeah, in Santa Barbara. ON THE COAST.

So basically I am screwed. I have lots of drugs now though. There were a few things that I was surprised that I am not allergic to at all: trees, molds, or grasses of any kind. Crazy.

Angry Blondie

2008-05-06T19:10:00.000-04:00

The other day my dad said something to me that I've been unable to stop thinking about. He insinuated that I should be grateful to him for not providing anything for me while I was growing up and while I was struggling through college, taking a full class load and working at whatever job I could find. I should be grateful for that because I had to work hard for what I have and therefore I value it more. Which is true, I do value what I worked my ass off to achieve. But you know who absolutely does not get to take credit for that? The man who refused to pay any child support while I was growing up because he spent all of his money on whatever drugs he could get his hands on.
Yes, I had a hard life, like a lot of other people. And I am stronger for it. I know this. But I will be damned if he somehow makes himself out to be a good father because I didn't end up pregnant at seventeen or stung out on meth like half of my high school. If there is one thing that he absolutely is not, it is a good father. I can hear him now, protesting that he did his best and he loves me more than I know and things like that. To which I say, so what. I guess trying his best involved drinking himself into oblivion and getting high whenever he had the chance. Not to mention managing to not show up for any significant event I wished he'd gone to, or ever coming through with things that he promised. Which probably has a lot to do with me not knowing how much he loves me, since I never saw a trace of it.
"But he's still your father," you say? Well I say again, so what. Just because he and my mom had sex and oops here I am, that means that I am obliged to forgive every one of his shortcomings with a shrug and say "But he's doing his best..."? I do not agree. I owe him exactly nothing. Whatever time and energy he spends trying to convince himself that his monumental failure as a parent was actually better for me so that he can assuage his own guilt, will be exactly that. His time and energy. I am done being so angry that I can't see straight. I am done letting someone have such a huge negative impact on my life.

Fuckin' Right!

2008-04-15T11:52:00.000-04:00

Get yours.

I Love...

2008-04-09T13:03:00.000-04:00

the first sip of coffee in the morning
the smell of eucalyptus trees in the summer
buying the perfect pair of shoes
getting dressed up for something that is not really that fancy
the first tingle of spicy food
falling asleep reading a book in the middle of a lazy summer afternoon
the smell of used book stores and libraries
gulping down ice cold milk
looking at crazy things people sell on craigslist
putting together really hard jigsaw puzzles
watching trashy reality shows with Pamala
hearing waves crashing on the beach as I fall asleep
discovering a new beautiful part of Santa Barbara
playing with my cat
the smell of night blooming jasmine
changing into my pajamas right after I get home from work
laughing so hard that my face starts to hurt
looking at pictures of my friends and family
how cute my apartment looks
the feel of freshly washed sheets
collecting sand dollars on the beach in Mexico with Mama
magnolia trees in bloom
dreaming up cockamamie schemes with friends
taking extra long hot showers
chapstick
the smell of sunscreen
sleeping in until noon
the way sour candy makes the back of my tongue feel
burning candles and incense just because they smell good
rocking out to one of my favorite songs
curling up in front of a fire after taking a shower and letting the fire dry my hair
eating barbecued beef ribs with my Dad's special sauce
walking barefoot on the beach
earthquakes, as long as they are minor
drinking fresh lemonade
the smell of wet concrete when it is blazing hot outside
when soap bubbles float in the air while I am washing dishes
eating ice cream when it is raining
when the smell of a campfire lingers in my hair
hearing church bells ringing from a distance
standing on the edge of something very tall
crossing something off of my To Do list
thunderstorms and counting the seconds between the lightning and the thunder
singing in the car
inside jokes that are still funny years later even though no one remembers what they were about anymore (water over there...)
sharing juicy office gossip
understanding what someone is thinking with just a look
getting a foot rub without asking for one
buying someone the perfect present
watching old movies over and over and reading old books over and over
sharing a comfortable silence
getting really excited
knowing random facts and spouting them to others
dancing in my living room with Ricardo
avocados
making other people laugh
learning something new and useful
watching young animals of any kind play
eating ripe juicy strawberries
when a song I really love pops up on my ipod on shuffle
cracking my knuckles, ankles, wrists, back, neck, and various other joints
freshly brewed iced tea
staying up really late talking to someone
picking nail polish off of my fingernails
having a clock ticking softly in my bedroom and counting the ticks as I fall asleep
sunlight filling up a room

finding a really good red wine

reliving my childhood by coloring with crayons and markers
eating sunflower seeds and salted peanuts
getting a phone call or email from someone I haven't talked to in a long time

Strange Days Are Here Again

2008-03-31T16:16:00.000-04:00

I have previously documented the strange goings-on that occur during my lunches, and today that theme was continued loudly and proudly. Today, as I was driving to get my lunch, there was a man standing on the corner with a giant sign. His sign was covered in mostly illegible, small writing.
However.
In the middle of his sign, in giant letters, it said, "YOU NEED THERAPY!"
But that is not even the best part. What could be better you ask? The fact that he was wearing this:
With this kicky hat:

This town continues to bring the crazy awesome.

I Got A Man And A Plan

2008-03-26T19:29:00.000-04:00

Tomorrow we are finally going to move the rest of the stuff from Ventura up here, including my sofa, hooray! No more cramming two to three people in a chair that is just shy of being a love seat. Now as soon as my bookshelf gets here, I can put away all the clutter and we will have an actual home. If my bookshelf would ever ship from wherever UPS is holding it hostage, that is. Overstock.com told me that it would leave their warehouse in 1-3 business days, and I should receive it within 5-10 business days from the day I order. So, I have two more days before I can fill out the "Where the hell is my shit?" form. Great. I would be way less concerned if the UPS page showed more than "billing information received". Sigh.

In other news, Ricardo and I picked a year in which to get married. We're planning for the summer of 2010, which will be smack dab in the middle of law school for me, so that should be all kinds of fun. Even more fun is that I have no idea what I want as far as wedding stuff. I never really thought about it. So I bought some magazines and did some researching. It turns out that most places need to be reserved about 18 months out. But here is where I am running into entirely self-created stress. I will be applying for law school at the end of this year, and that means that I will not know where I'm going until about April of next year. Then law school will start next August. So I will have from April-ish 2009 until Whatever Day We Ultimately Pick to plan everything, or about 12 months. Which may seem like a long time, but when you consider that I will be in fucking law school for those 12 months, you can begin to understand why I want to start planning things now, even though I kind of can't. The type of wedding we have will ultimately depend on where we end up living. If I end up in LA or San Diego, that is vastly different from San Francisco or Oregon. Different venues, different colors, everything would be somewhat different. And I am not really liking the idea of planning two simultaneous weddings...

As far as the inevitable question "Why don't you wait until you finish law school?", there are a few answers. The shallow answer is that when I finish law school I will be thirty (!), and I'd like to get married before then. The deeper answer is that this is a compromise between me, who would rather wait, and Ricardo, who would just a soon go to Vegas tomorrow. And keep in mind that the next question is "Why don't you get married before law school?" So the ultimate answer is that the reason we picked 2010 is that it is a good balance of time that is acceptable to both of us. I don't really give a crap if it is acceptable to anyone else or not.

Soundtrack Of My Life

2008-03-20T12:28:00.000-04:00

Pamala sent me this fun diversion a while ago, and I have sort of become obsessed with it. Here's what you do:

Put your itunes on shuffle and answer the questions/topics below with the name of the song. No skipping songs! Those songs are the soundtrack to your life.

Ok I need to make one addendum. I have a lot of Classical music on my ipod, so I am going to skip those. While they could be great for a soundtrack, it just isn't as much fun.

Here we go!

Opening Credit-Can't Cry These Tears by Garbage. This is a very tone-setting song. She's talking about trying to find love but it's nowhere and she is sick of looking and over it and she's done crying.

Waking Up-Let It Die by Feist. Wow what a sad song to wake up to. But I guess it could be interpreted as waking up to the reality of a relationship being over.

First Day of School-Het by The Pixies. An all around awesome song.

In Love-Basket Case by Green Day. An oddly appropriate song. I have great memories of this song, including one time when myself and a stranger yelled the lyrics across an apartment complex to each other in call and response fashion. Good times indeed.

Fight Song-Out Of My Mind by James Blunt. Oh come on. Am I fighting in slow motion here? Lame. I am a much better fighter than this.

Breaking Up-Shiver by Maroon 5. This is one of the more appropriate song on this list. It's about a hellish relationship. Not really about breaking up though, so maybe not all that appropriate after all.

Prom-I Loves You, Porgy by Billie Holiday. All together now-Aaaaaawwwwwwww...

Life-Black On Black by Heart. One of the greatest bands ever. This song is so awesome. Probably my favorite Heart song. I am rocking out over here.

Mental Breakdown-Let It Roll by Train. Yes, I have Train on my ipod. And it is not nearly the most embarrassing thing I have either. As far as appropriateness, it is marginal for a mental breakdown.

Driving-Anywhere You Go by The Gin Blossoms. How great is that? A song about following someone for driving to.

Flashback-Wrong Turn by Jack Johnson. A very "meh" song. Which could be appropriate, since I don't really have flashbacks, since I don't have a lot of memories to flashback to. If that makes sense.

Birth of Child-I Melt With You (cover) by Jason Mraz. A completely inappropriate song. Holy crap.

Final Battle-Now At Last by Feist. Eh, not really that great. I mean, I love Feist and all, but this song is about finding love and is all mushy. Not great for battling your foes.

Death Scene-Stranded by Heart. Yay Heart! And I guess this song works. Kind of. If someone else is dying maybe? Ok fine, it totally doesn't. But I still love Heart.

Funeral Song-Nugget by Cake. Ohhhhhhh-kaaaaaayyyy...I don't know how well a song where the chorus is "Shut the fuck up, learn to buck up" would go over at a funeral.

End Credit-Killing Floor by Howling Wolf. A nice rousing blues tune to yell out weird names to your friends to. I'm ok with this song.

Overall, this was not the best mix that I've done. I'm tempted to do it over, but I will resist. Oh, and for there record, there actually weren't any Classical songs that popped up, so this is completely accurate.

Happy Happy Joy Joy

2008-03-10T12:17:00.000-04:00

So we finally got our cable set up this weekend, and after Ricardo spent three hours centering the screen of the tv, which, to be fair, is 46 inches, and requires a lot of finagling, I can tell you that DVR is the greatest invention ever! I'm recording things left and right. I am in televisual heaven. Interesting program on National Geographic about what will happen after we all die, but, oh no, it's on at 11 pm? Bam, record that shit and watch it when I want. Rock of Love marathon on VH1? Got it! Awesome.

Now I have to go procure a storage unit today, so we can move all the stuff that we want, but not necessarily right now, out of the apartment, and then I will be truly happy. Our living room is a disaster still, boxes stacked all over the place, some of them half unpacked and random things all over the damn place. I can't even look at it anymore. I tried to start going through some boxes yesterday, but I got so overwhelmed that I had to go lie down. There's just no place to put anything. I ordered out kitchen/dining table on Friday, and it should get here sometime this week. I hope. It's so purty:

Right? I can't wait for it to get here. No more milk crates for me! Now I just need a big bookshelf and about 70% of the clutter will have a home. But, of course, now that I actually want to buy a bookshelf, the only ones on craigslist are crappy ones. What happened to all the awesome ones that I used to see when I was browsing? Work with me people!

Gearing Up

2008-03-05T12:55:00.000-05:00

My favorite holiday is coming up this month, and I am in a bit of a quandary. St. Patrick's Day, that holiest day of drunken dogma, will require more than just the typical beer consuming endeavor. In general, I have a hard time consuming enough beer to get me seriously tanked, so I need to get my wee little hands on something with a nice high alcohol content. But, I still have quality and taste standards that must be met. So, let's break it down:

The obvious first choice of Guinness does have a lot going for it. Somehow, Guinness only contains 198 calories per imperial pint (20 fl oz UK), fewer than an equal-sized serving of skimmed milk or orange juice and most other non-light beers. However, imported Guinness tastes nothing like Guinness in Ireland, which makes me very sad when I drink it. Plus, there is the matter of being able to consume enough of it. In spite of not containing that many calories, it is a very filling drink, but it does have a slightly higher than average abv, at 7%. I am on the fence about Guinness.

In general, I am not a fan of lager. On a warm summer day, a nice cold Harp can be refreshing, but there are other summertime beers that I enjoy much more, mostly of the Mexican variety (hello Modelo...). Also, when I drink lager, I end up going to the restroom about every five minutes, which pretty much negates the meager 5% abv that Harp has to offer. Harp is officially out.

I tried Smithwick's a few times in Ireland and England, and largely I found it to be more on the bitter side than I prefer for an ale, but that could be only in comparison to the smooth and delicious Guinness that was available at the time. However, I haven't tried it as an import yet. It only clocks in at 4.5% abv, which makes it officially out. Sorry Smithwick's, maybe another time.

This is a cream ale that is brewed by Smithwick's, and it is reportedly even more bitter. And the abv is 4.3%, the lowest abv on the list, making this one right out.

God, do I love a good red ale. I am drooling over this photo right now. It doesn't help that I am also starving. I would kill for a glass or Murphy's and a giant pile of mashed potatoes, with a side of soda bread right now.

I just made the horrifying discovery that there is no Wikipedia entry for Murphy's. I don't know what to dooooooo... It does only have an abv of 5%. This site I found rated Irish red ales, and the following was the highest rated beer:

It's got a higher abv than Murphy's, at 5.9%, which certainly makes it more appealing. I am very curious to try this one, but it may be very difficult to acquire. We shall see.

Of course, there is always the alternative:

I Used To Live In A Two Room Apartment, Neighbors Knockin' On My Walls

2008-02-25T16:21:00.000-05:00

Just a quick update to say that moving everything you own (minus one couch currently in another city) while it is POURING rain is no fun. No fun at all.

In related news, I have way too much crap.

Yes, This Is What You Think It Is!

2008-02-19T17:16:00.000-05:00

I was so shocked when I saw it! He had our waitress on Valentine's Day bring it out with dessert. We had a conversation a while ago, and he was telling me that he wants to be with me and all that stuff, and I basically said yeah whatever, that's only words. He was like, "So you want actions?" And I sure got one, huh?
After I freaked out a little when I saw it, he said, "I'm not talking about tomorrow, or even two years from now. I just want to be clear with you, this is what I want. I want you to know my intentions."
He did an absolutely amazing job with this ring too. He noticed that I wear pearls a lot, so he asked me why. I explained to him about birthstones, and how me and Nana had the same birthday, so it's a connection to her as well. This was in like December. He spent forever looking for it too. Then he figured out what size to get from another ring I have, that just happened to fit his pinkie.
I also had a two feet tall bouquet in a giant glass vase at work. He dropped it off when I was at lunch, along with a gift bag with a bag of hot cheetos and some hummus and a card that plays Unchained Melody! (That song that goes "Ooooooooh, my loooooove, my daaaarling, I've hungered forrrrr yourrrrrrr touch...") It was PERFECT! People at work were like "Cheetos...?" I'm like "I would WAY rather get something that he knows I love than generic chocolates that I don't like anyway!" So basically he is amazing. Yay!

Take Me Home

2008-02-14T12:19:00.000-05:00

I have a place to live! I am so excited! Of course, this means that I have to move again, but that is just a detail at this point. My rent is going to be half of what I've been paying for the last year. That is so awesome. Ricardo's talking about how we need to buy a new bed, because apparently mine is not comfortable. This is coming from the guy who didn't even have a bed in his bedroom because the floor is good for his back or something. I wasn't listening to that crazy talk.
But so our place is tiny. Really small. He was thinking that we should get a king sized bed, and I was like, "And put it where, exactly? Were you planning to use the closet? Because I sure am." Not to mention that he wants to buy a bed first thing, and we don't even have other furniture essentials. Like a table. Or chairs. I'm not even sure my couch will fit in the living room. It's a very long couch. I need to break out the measuring tape.
Things are looking up indeed.

Bittersweet Symphony

2008-02-06T18:43:00.000-05:00

After the holidays were all over and we had to return to normal life, Ricardo and I began to discuss our relationship and its future. For a while now, I've been wanting to move to a cheaper apartment, especially since my landlord still has not seen fit to repair our water-damaged front door. Dalyne was on board with moving to a cheaper place, but then she changed her mind. I was in a bit of a bind at that point, and Ricardo brought up us moving in together. I went back and forth and back again for weeks, and then finally decided that it is what I want to do.
So there it is. I am going to move in with Ricardo. My lease is up at the end of this month, and we are currently applying to an apartment. I hope like hell that we get it, because it is incredibly hard to find places that will accept a cat here. And there is such a short time that apartments are available. Basically, no one gives more than thirty days notice, so you have to try to find a place the month before you need to move. It is very stressful.
On top of that stress, last week I got the flu. Like hardcore sickness. I was completely fine on Monday, and then on Tuesday I went down in flames. I had (still have actually) a hacking, deep-chested cough that sounds like parts of my lungs are going to come out, I was running a fever for three days, and I was bone-tired. I did not get out of bed nor was I even really lucid for three days. And those three days just happened to fall on the three days when all of the new apartment listing were coming out. Ricardo really came through though, he would go and see like six places and narrow it down to ones that would meet my level of acceptability.
I found out two nights ago that right after I was done being really really sick, him mom, who lives outside of Mexico City, was rushed to the hospital and is currently in a fucking coma! I don't even know. His family isn't telling him much because they want him to stay here, but that is adding to his frustration, not to mention the fact that whatever he is imagining is (I hope) worse than reality.
So, all in all, this should be a happy time for us, but it is really just very stressful.

Breath Again

2008-02-05T13:08:00.000-05:00

Ok so, let me start this by saying that I love Toni Braxton. I owned her CD and you can bet that I belted out "Un-Break My Heart" along with the rest of us and desperately wished I could look as awesome in torn-to-shreds jeans. So when I saw this picture, my heart nearly did break:

I didn't even believe that it WAS Toni Braxton at first, but the Fug Girls do not lie, nor would they be so cruel. Wanting to un-break my own heart, I did a little digging and found out that Toni Braxton did, in fact, wear this hideous dress, but for a fantastic reason that sort of made me love her even more. It turns out that Campbell's Soup decided to participate in the Red Dress thing for heart health awareness. Part of this was that they would have "designer" Lisa Perry design three dresses that people would vote on and then the winning dress would be worn to this event. Since Toni Braxton actually has heart health issues, she decided that she would wear the winning dress, before even seeing what would be afflicted upon her. Brave woman, since she ended up looking like she hauled herself down to Mexico and went crazy at Papa's and Beer.

So the "designer" Lisa Perry, came up with these dresses for the public to vote on (I don't know what's going on with the watermark. Computers still baffle me sometimes.):

Now, I think that the little red dress would have been a thousand times better on the TINY Toni Braxton, (seriously, she's like four feet tall) but does run the risk of making her looks a little too much like a tomato for my liking. And I'm not sure how I would have felt about a GIANT SPOON across Toni Braxton's stomach, like what image does that send? That she eats a lot? That her stomach is convex?
I don't think we need to discuss the third option, other than to say JESUS CHRIST LISA PERRRY WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU?!?
And really. Take a look at her "collection".
Pamala and I had the following conversation about the collection:

me: lisa perry needs to be slapped
Pamala: i just want to stick up for the woman
who was the musical god for me
when i was like 9-11
me: oh you know i had her cd
and belted along to every word
Pamala: i had the tape
me: oh snap
(link to lisa perry's site)
HAVING THE EXACT SAME DRESS WITH DIFFERENT COLORS DOES NOT
MAKE YOU A DESIGNER
Pamala: ew
me: oh my god
i am so MAD at these dresses!
Pamala: those are the ugliest dresses EVER
did lisa perry not learn anything from the candy episode of project runway earlier this
season

We can't explain why these dresses are so ugly, why Lisa Perry was chosen to design the Campbell's dress, or why Toni Braxton didn't throw a diva-fit and refuse to wear such an ugly dress. But I seriously love that she sucked it up and was like, "I said I would wear the winning dress. Damn my big mouth." and then thanked God that she didn't have to wear the giant label dress. Toni Braxton, I love you. For real.

I Don't Do Christmas Music

2008-01-28T12:27:00.000-05:00

My Christmas was very mellow this year. I went to Pamala's family house for actual Christmas Day, which I think was funny, since they're Jewish. We had a really fun time, and Pamala made me this awesome scrapbook of our friendship with inside jokes. It was very heartwarming, brought a tear to my eye even. I felt a little bad, because I was like, "Here, I got you a shirt...", but it was a Hannah Montana shirt with her name on it, and she put it on right away.

Then Ricardo and I went down to Lake Elsinore to see Mama and Dennis, who were in town to see his family. We both stayed in the one nice hotel in my hometown, one Holiday Inn. I was looking forward to taking Ricardo to see the town I grew up in, because it would hopefully expel some impressions he has about me that are entirely incorrect. He seems to think that I am this delicate upper middle class white girl who has never even seen a Mexican before. This could not be further from the truth, but no matter how many times I tried to tell him, he wasn't getting it.

After spending three days driving around my hometown, however, he has yet to make any of the types of comments that he used to.

My hometown is...sort of like a conglomeration of all things trashy. There are trailer parks. There are hookers. There are crackheads. There are crackhead hookers. I used to work at a community center downtown, and one day someone taped index cards to the doors that read, "Watch out for the skinny black crackhead, she will STEAL YOUR MONEY!" I knew exactly who the note was talking about too. I once was accosted at a gas station by a three hundred pound toothless Mexican yelling "Ai, mami, call me papi!" My neighbor was arrested because he had a meth lab in his garage. My other neighbor had fried his brain with so many drugs that he used to walk around with a five gallon bucket that had no bottom in it. When my friends came to stay with me for a few days, they ended up with a used condom tied to their car door.

That is the town I grew up in people. Classy, right?

Where was I?

Oh yes. Christmas. So we saw Mama and Dennis. We got them each an ipod shuffle, and we also got them each a bigger looking, but cheaper gift. Mama got dark chocolate MnMs, and Dennis got a big bag of Cheetos. Because I'm awesome. I got some cool stuff too. Like a new ipod nano, which I love. It's so small! I'm kinda scared that I will lose it, but I got this nifty case for it, which helps a lot. Ricardo also hand made me a beautiful card that had three pages of writing in it that was so sweet and loving that I seriously cried. Because I'm a girl. I also got some nice teas from Dennis, since he goes to Thailand (or is it Taiwan? I think it's Taiwan. Crap.) for his job all the time. And a pretty watch. And a little diamond from Mama that I'm going to make into a nose ring.

For New Year's, we went to the Roosevelt Hotel and rocked out. See how cute we were?

Ricardo was there too, I promise.

Bitching And Moaning Is What I Do Best

2008-01-23T12:03:00.000-05:00

It is pouring rain and I am so cranky today. First I woke up late, which can put anyone in a bad mood. Then I could not get my hair to look right; it still looks like I was attacked by a raging crackhead. My makeup then refused to cooperate, and now I've got a touch of Tammy Faye going on. AND THEN I had to walk two blocks in the pouring rain and wind to my car. In heels. So my feet are still wet, thank you. And my boss needs to shut the fuck up today. Seriously. I know what I am talking about. When you ask me a question and I give you the answer, it is for a reason. I'm not just making shit up over here.
Deep breaths. Deep cleansing breaths.
Oh great. I just checked my calendar, and it turns out that my doctor's appointment that I thought was tomorrow is, in fact, today.
This day just sucks.

Come Together

2008-01-17T14:23:00.000-05:00

There has been a whole lot of craziness going on in my life recently. I have started at least twenty posts in my head, but none of them have made it out of my head yet, obviously. I don't even know where to begin. I suppose I could start with a How My Holidays Were post. That seems so mundane, given the momentous changes since Thanksgiving, but I do need to start somewhere. As much as I want to dive in the middle, I know that I will backtrack continuously if I do that. So, now that I've sufficiently justified being a little boring, let's get started. This may take a few posts, but they will be coming regularly, I promise.

For this Thanksgiving, Mama and Dennis invited everyone to their house in Arizona. They specifically asked me to bring Ricardo so that they could meet him. I did think that it was a bit early in the relationship for the meeting of parents, but he and I were already pretty serious, so I asked him if he wanted to come to Arizona with me. He was immediately excited about it. It was adorable, really. He kept telling me things that he wanted to say to them. Now, it is not obvious when you first meet Ricardo, because he isn't fully fluent in English, but he seriously does not stop talking. I talk a lot, and I can't get a word in edgewise with him sometimes.
So he and I drove for twelve hours, from Santa Barbara to Strawberry, Arizona. Which is like smack in the middle of the state. It was a very arduous drive. We got to Mama's at about six or seven in the morning, depending on which time zone you choose, fell into bed and slept until about noon. After the cats greeted us that is. Smokey and Streak both were ecstatic that we had arrived to entertain them. At one point, Smokey jumped up on the foot of the bed. All I could see over Ricardo were her ears. She started slowly walking toward his head, and I could think of nothing else but the theme from Jaws. Right as the song in my head got to the climax, she jumped up on top of Ricardo's hip and yowled. I couldn't have contained myself even if I had wanted to; I busted up laughing. I couldn't stop for about half and hour. After a twelve hour, over-night drive through the desert, that shit was hilarious.
Once we were up and moving again, one thing was immediately apparent: it was cold. Like, colder than I have ever been. I grew up in California and am completely weather-spoiled, but I think it would have been considered cold even by normal-people standards. It hovered around forty during the day, dipping down to around ten at night. Like I said, freakin' cold.
One funny moment was when Mama finally noticed that I'd gotten my nose pierced. It took her a full hour to notice it, and when she finally did, it was great. She stopped mid-sentence and pointed at my nose with her mouth open, followed by an "Oh, my God!" Then she went on about how much it must have hurt an how she thinks I am crazy. Keep in mind, this is coming from the woman who got a tattoo at fifty three, a full year before I got my first one, which she paid for as a graduation present. I love my mom, but she often makes no sense. The best part was when Dennis came out a few minutes later, gave me a hug and then said, "So you got your nose pierced, huh?" I teased Mama about that for a long time.
The next day was Thanksgiving Day and people started showing up around 11:00 AM. We ended up with seventeen people in a double wide trailer. I was just glad that there was a huge deck out back, so there was some crowd control. It was a really good time, lots of food and love and laughing, particularly when Aunt Ann ran smack into the screen door and bounced off of it. Ah, good times.
As per usual, there was alcohol aplenty, and Mama took full advantage of that on Thanksgiving night. Mama is adorable when she's drunk, she gets very affectionate and laughs even more than normal. The next night was all about Dennis though. Normally Dennis is a very calm, easy going guy, but apparently after he's had a few, there is another, hilarious side of Dennis. I was sitting at the smaller table entertaining my cousin Julie's kids (incidentally, what do you call your cousin's kids?), when my other cousin, Alicia, came up and told me that I needed to go outside and check out what Dennis was up to. And man, am I glad she did. The man was on a roll, going on about how he was trying to keep the damn fire going, but this sunuvabitch over here (my Uncle Mark) kept messing up the wood, and when Uncle Mark protested that he was, in fact, nowhere near the fire, Dennis dubbed him The Goddamn Fire Master and informed Uncle Mark that he was being fucking derelict in his duties. Amid this interaction, Dennis would continually inquire if anyone had any Cheetos (there was a mix of snacks set out, but he only liked the Cheetos), and if they did, he would confiscate them as his Porch Usage Fee. If they were out of Cheetos, they could pay in Sun Chips, which Dennis gave to the dogs because "they like the fucking crunchiness in their mouths". But that was just the beginning. After Alicia mention that it was a good thing that her mom (Aunt Ann) had only bounced off the screen door, Dennis got to speechifying, saying "You're goddamn right it's a good thing, I've walked right through those damn doors before. If she'd a broke my fuckin' screen door, The Goddamn Fire Master over here would be getting a fucking invoice" and then he proceeded to dictate said invoice as:

You Goddamn Sunuvabitch,
For one fucking broken screen door, payments are due.
Ten Cheetos, times 5% for harassment.
In addition, provide one bag of fucking Sun Chips for the dogs, since the poor bastards can't come on the deck anymore.
Signed,
Dennis

He was pantomiming writing this out while he was doing it too. It was a masterful performance.
The rest of Thanksgiving was equally great, but in different ways. I got to see members of my family that I hadn't seen in years, some that I hadn't seen since they were toddlers. I also go to visit the Grand Canyon for the first time since I was like seven. It was sad to have to come back to Santa Barbara, which is nowhere near any of my family.

Next up, Christmas and New Year's!

Girl, You Got Those Hands

2008-01-08T11:29:00.000-05:00

The other day I picked up a pen to write something down, and I realized something rather startling. In the last year, I have rarely hand-written anything. It struck me as very odd that after nearly twenty years of writing with a pencil or pen all day long, as soon as I graduated from college, I pretty much stopped writing entirely. Don't get me wrong, I still pick up a pen to jot things down, since I can't remember anything unless I write it down, but it's nothing like the amount of writing that I've done on a daily basis for the majority of my life.
On the other hand, I do type much faster than I ever did before. I've even learned to type with both hands (get your mind out of the gutter!). I'm left-handed, but I use my right hand for a lot of things, like throwing, using scissors, and various other things. But there are a few things that my right hand is useless for. Eating for instance. I can barely pick up french fries with my right hand, let alone use some sort of utensil. If I have to cut up a steak, I often sit there with the fork in my left hand and the knife in my right, then switch, then switch back, then switch again. I once broke my left wrist and had to wear a cast that immobilized my whole left hand. That was pretty much the worst month and a half of my life. I couldn't do anything. I was in junior high at the time, and we were required to do P.E., but I had to go sit in the library and write essays about sports. My P.E. teacher was continually pestering me to write more neatly. I would tell her "I'm left-handed", thinking the neon green cast on my left arm would shut her up, but no. She kept on about it. One day, after I said "I'm left-handed" to her again, she said to me "That is not an excuse for this handwriting! It looks like a four year old!" So in response, I brandished my neon green encased arm directly in front of her face and yelled "This is my left hand!" She simply paused and said "Oh." But she left me alone after that.
Where was I?
Oh, yeah. Things I can't do with my right hand. So for a long time, I couldn't get my right hand to go where I wanted it to on the keyboard. I had a typing class in high school but it still just did not work. So for a long time I used my left hand for the whole keyboard. I got pretty fast too, like 50 wpm. I know! People would see me doing that and just stare. But after working at my office job for the past year, spending the majority of every day typing away, my one-handed method wasn't gonna cut it. So I now have my right hand under control and I type like a normal person. If I type excessively, it still hurts my right wrist a lot more than my left one, but that's the only lingering effect. I don't think I could even go back to the left-hand-only method if I wanted to. Crazy, no?

When I See You Cry, It Makes Me Smile

2007-12-20T16:37:00.000-05:00

I love trashy reality shows more than anyone else I know. I have watched all of the Flavor of Love and New York shows. Hell, I even watched The Pickup Artist. And I wanted to punch "Mystery" in the face the whole time. But not as much as one of the contestants, Pradeep. He was such a prick!

But by far trashier than all of those combined, was Rock of Love, which featured the one and (thank God) only Bret Michaels on his quest for love. At the end of the show he ended up choosing Pink Haired Girl, whom I favored to win:

But alas, their love did not last. Shocking, I know. If you can't find love while your every moment is being televised, when can you find love?

So what is poor, broken-hearted Bret up to? Well, his quest for love continues! Ladies and gentlemen, I present to you............

Rock of Love 2!

Let's take a closer look, shall we? We begin on the left:

Is that the worst wig you have ever seen? Also, how high does she look? Which, while fitting for the show, maybe this was not the most appropriate time. Another odd thing is how she seems to be not with the rest of the group at all. Perhaps she'll be the next Lacey, all social-outcasty and pyscho. But not if she's this high all the time. OOH! Maybe she'll be the one who gets kicked off right away for being drugged out and then blows the bouncer to get back in and sleeps on the couch before passing out in the middle of her phone sex audition! I hope so.

Next, we have this charmer, who was apparently dragged to this photoshoot by her hair when she was just trying to run out to pick up some groceries after slipping into her Uggs:

I'm not sure what to make of the girl in the back row. Is she naked? I can't tell. And my goodness does the girl in the pink dress look like a cardboard cutout! That is uncanny...

Then we have one of the few ladies who went for the "sultry" look and ended up with the "slutty" look:

I mean, not only is that black dress so tight that it looks like she can't breath, but when you look at her feet, it seriously looks like she's about to topple over!
Is it just me or does the curly haired blonde in the back there look a little bit like Victoria from the last cycle of Top Model? I hope it is and she gets all prickly with Bret.
Hey, Miss Penthouse '98, pull up your shirt, I can totally see your bra!

As for the poor girl in the pink shirt and leggings, honey, you need to stand up straight, you look pregnant like that.

Which brings us to the three girls behind Bret, who will clearly be BFF (!), since they all had the brilliant idea to sexily put their sexy fingers in or near their sexy mouths:

Speaking of which, what the hell is Bret doing with his fingers? Are those...double bullhorns/rock-on signs? Do you think he is having a bull fight/rock-off right in front of him?

Ok, moving right along. We now come to the One Of These Things Is Not Like The Other Ones section:

While the genius producers tried their hardest to obscure her in the back row, I can still see the short, dark-haired, possibly Indian woman's head. Am I crazy, or does she look really old to be on this show? We don't really need to talk about the skunk-haired girl with the crazy pose, but I would like to address the strangely normal looking girl's head. Who is she? Why is she on this show? Did she get lost and blunder onto the set?

The black girl with the mowhawk looks so incredible familiar to me. I swear that she was on the first season:

Now here is the other sultry/slutty sister:

I have to give her props in that she somehow looks even more like a hooker than her counterpart black-dress-wearer.

Yet another girl about whose well-being I am concerned is the blonde girl in the pink dress behind the hooker. Is she asleep? What happened to her head? Was her hair caught in some sort of bleaching mechanism in a tragic accident that she is facing bravely?

Now for the finale. It is readily apparent why these two lovely ladies were allowed to be in the front row. They are by far the best dressed of the bunch:

There are no words.

Number Four Is A Copycat

2007-12-07T13:32:00.001-05:00

One of the most obnoxious things about Number Four was that she was a total copycat. I've already talked about how she would follow us into the kitchen and how she didn't take medicine because her friend was a Scientologist. But there was more. Much more.

In general, her slovenly ways were enough to creep us out, but this was amplified by the fact that she stared at us. All the time. If we were doing anything in the same room she was in, she would watch us like we were a tv show. Often this led to her doing the same thing we were doing. If we were reading, she picked up a book. If we got a snack, she got a snack. If we started watching tv and knitting, she grabbed her knitting too.

Oh, and that was a whole nuther kind of weirdness, her knitting. I learned how to knit from my previous roommate Nicole. I never got more advanced than a simple knit stitch, but I can make a pretty scarf for you. So I taught Pamala, Orly, and Number Four how to knit too, with varying degrees of success. Pamala gave up quickly because she can't sit still long enough to knit more than two rows at a time. Orly enjoyed it, but only if she could use oversized needles.

Number Four was a different story altogether. She learned quite well alright. She also purchased the most hideous color combinations of yarn you could imagine, and some you can't. There was a type of yarn she liked in particular that had gradations from one color to another. Most of those were very pretty, shades of blue and green, or pink. Number Four chose one that was brown and orange to make a scarf out of. And then she decided to use very small needles, which, whatever, if she wanted to spend six months making a scarf, that was her business. The problem was this. When she would knit, she would wrap the yarn really really tight around the needles and when she was rubbing the needles against each other to pick up a stitch, the needles would make this creaking noise, almost like a door hinge. It just added a new level of creepiness that she was that tense when using pointy objects.

Then there was the blanket. Oh God, the blanket. I need to take a minute.

The yarn she chose for the blanket was another of the color gradation type, but this time she pick one that changed from purple (again with the purple) to green, with shades of aqua thrown in for added hideousness. She got some sort of knitting needle wire circle contraption that looked like a torture device to make this blanket with, and of course the needles were small. So in addition to the creaking needles, there was this growing nebulous blob of purple shot through with green and aqua that lived under our coffee table. Just lurking under there, it's hideous colors pulsating, waiting to smother us.

Given her affection for horribly clashing colors, you would imagine that Number Four's side of the room would have been a sight to behold, but you would be mistaken. It was incredibly boring and unimaginative in a nearly monochromatic faded blue color scheme. Her sheets were blue. Her comforter was blue plaid. Her "decorations" consisted of a weird blue novelty lamp (think lava lamp but with blue glitter instead of lava) and a poster of Van Gogh's Starry Night. Which, I might add, she only purchased after she saw that Pamala had that exact same poster hanging in the living room. I'm still confused about that. I mean, we already had one poster of Starry Night, and yet she went out and purchased another one. On purpose. She did things like that with frightening regularity.

For example, I had a beta fish when I lived with them that just would not die. This fish was seriously seven years old. And it never ate it's food. I don't know how this thing lived. Anyway, somehow we learned that Number Four had never had a pet before. It always freaks me out when I learn that someone never had a pet as a child. I just don't understand it. So she was asking me all these questions about my fish, and I was telling her how the thing just wouldn't die, which made it really easy to take care of. Wouldn't you know that a few days later, Number Four bought herself a beta fish. She spent about a week trying to come up with a name for this new pet, finally settling on calling it Fish. Yeah.

The most bizarre copycat moment of all though was when she copied a behavior of Orly's. See, Pamala and Orly were like seven year olds sometimes. Orly is disgusted by feet, so Pamala would chase her around barefoot, trying to stick her feet on Orly. Pamala is something of a prude, so Orly would break into the bathroom when Pamala was showering, or wander around topless. One day Number Four was talking to Orly about how it would be really funny if she walked up to Pamala "and just went like this!" and then yanked her top up, flashing Orly from about two feet away. I saw it coming and was able to look away, but Orly had no chance. She got full on flashed by the one person she was grossed out by the most in the world. Did I mention that Number Four was wearing her Circus Pants? When I knew it was safe, I looked back over to check on Orly and she just looked stunned. You could have pushed her over with a feather.

A Little Light Reading

2007-12-07T11:52:00.000-05:00

I am not the most technically savvy person around. I can get around in most programs pretty quickly, but when it comes to the actual function of a computer, I am at a loss. I know what things do most of the time; I rarely know why.

This is leading somewhere, I promise.

The office I work in has some sort of webpage-blocking thing that, frankly, baffles me. Some of the things it blocks make total sense, like, say, facebook or game websites. Other make no sense whatsoever, like the fact that ebay is not blocked at all.

Then there is craigslist. Craigslist is only partially blocked. I can look at anything for sale, all the housing listings, and the forums. Where it gets interesting is the personals section. The parts that are blocked make no sense when compared with what is not blocked (Please note that I discovered this trying to read Missed connections, because they are often hilarious).

Things that are blocked:
Casual encounters
Missed connections
Rants and raves

Things that are not blocked:
Women seeking women
Men seeking men

So apparently, my work is totally ok with employees using work computers to hook up with someone, provided that it is a homosexual relationship. The proliferation of extremely graphic pictures that are posted in those sections clearly has no bearing on the blocking program. Neither does the high use of "strong language" in the post titles themselves.

It is a strange, strange internet.

Further Adventures In Strangeland

2007-11-15T16:14:00.000-05:00

I have already documented how the collection of eating places nearest my work is a vortex of bizarre behavior. First there was Bra Girl. Then there was the Cup of Ice. You will hopefully be pleased to learn that I have two new stories for your enjoyment.
First is the tale of the Pillow Salesmen. Yes, pillows. Now, keep in mind that this area consist of a bunch of restaurants next to each other and a large outside eating area, sort of like a plaza. In fact, exactly like a plaza. So as I was sitting in the warm sun enjoying my sushi and conversing with my friend, I looked up and saw something that completely arrested my attention. I stopped speaking mid-sentence. There were two men with their arms full of those memory foam pillows, all boxed up. They went to a few tables, selling the pillows. Then they went inside the sushi restaurant and sold more. I was apparently the only person who found this strange, since people were buying them like they had never seen pillows before.
The second story is better. This just happened today, and I need to take a moment to digress because I just discovered that the Pepsi logo on my cup is surrounded by a double rainbow of text smileys of various sorts, like this: :-( :-< -O :) :-E ;-) etc. Interesting design choice. Oh, the background is all different sizes of smileys, all in varying shades of blue and overlapping. It's an emoticon collage. There is a website. Curiouser and curiouser...
Ok, back to the story. I'd been eating for a little while when a girl sat down at the table next to my friend and I. Normally not a notable occurrence, except that this girl looked a bit like Natalie Portman and had a lot of facial piercings and a boy haircut. She pulled out a tupperware thing of some food and started eating. Then a guy at another table got up to walk his plate to the trash. The following conversation ensued, which I need to just write down verbatim:

Girl: Um, excuse me? [Guy stops] I know this will sound really strange, but, um, were you going to throw those away? [gestures at pieces of a sushi roll on his plate]
Guy: Well, yeah...[confused]
Girl: Do you think that I could, um, have them?
Guy: Yeah, if you want. I already ate the cucumber out of the middle though. [apologetic]
Girl: Oh, that's alright. [takes the sushi pieces off of his plate] Thanks!
Guy: No problem! [leaves]

The reason I know exactly what they said is because I was full on staring at them while this was happening. Because, seriously? Who does that? And I'm sure I had some sort of 'the fuck?' look on my face, since I have no control over my facial expressions. You can absolutely tell what I am thinking by looking at me. My friends are constantly stopping mid sentence and swinging their heads over to my line of sight to see what I'm making a face about. It's kind of a problem, really. But yeah. Under what circumstances is that acceptable behavior? And the guy responded to her like she had asked him a perfectly sensible question and was in no way freaked out.

I love this town.

Silence Is Golden

2007-11-08T18:58:00.000-05:00

As I mentioned a few posts ago, I managed to convince my mom to let my (then) boyfriend, Joe, move into our house, since he was currently living in a tent in a trailer park. What can I say in my defense? I really did think that getting him out of that environment and into a better one would help him. And I loved him. And I was an idiot. Raise your hand if you’ve never done something incredibly stupid because you were in love. Yeah, that’s what I thought.
As you probably guessed, things did not go the way that I had envisioned they would. Joe and I did not have candle lit dinners in front of a fire; we argued about him not having a job, or him staying out until two in the morning. At some point I stopped arguing. After you tell someone the same thing forty times, and they still don’t listen, what is there to say?
Then I started a new semester at my community college. In one of my classes, I saw a guy who had been in a previous class of mine. We did the your-face-is-the-only-familiar-one-in-the-room-so-now-we-are-friends-thing, and I started getting to know Chris. He was the polar opposite of Joe. We bonded one day over Ralph, and I realized that I actually like this Chris fellow.
While I was making friends with Chris, things with Joe were becoming worse. He had become friends with my cousin’s douchey then-boyfriend (who would later attack her car with a baseball bat) and the two of them were acting increasingly shady. One evening, the four of us went out to a movie. After the movie, the two guys were going off and mumbling together. Alicia and I went to the bathroom for a conference. We decided that if they were going to stay out until two tonight, that was it. Last straw. We were done. We came back out and Alicia’s boyfriend asked if I could drop her off at home, since he and Joe had to “do a thing”. I agreed, and the whole way home we discussed how over this shit we were. I dropped her off and wished her luck, then drove myself home.
Now, those who know me well are quite aware of just how damn stubborn I am. In the previous weeks, I have become increasingly irritated with Joe. I had also met a guy who seemed to not only enjoy my company, but respect my mind. This did wonders for how I felt about myself and showed me how there really were guys who weren’t jackasses.
When I got home, I packed up all of Joe’s things in boxes and put them on the front porch. I remember my mom coming into my room, seeing what I was doing, and asking if I was ok. I told her “Yes, I finally am.” She just smiled and left me to it. I wrote a long letter explaining to Joe exactly what I was doing and why, and left that on top of his things.
When Joe finally did come home, it was light outside. After reading my letter, he tapped on my window. After I didn’t respond he went around to Brian’s window and woke him up. Brian told him that I would come out and talk to him when I was good and ready, godammit. I learned this later when I woke up. When I saw that Joe was still outside, I went out and handed him the phone, then went back inside. He tried to talk to me, but I didn’t want to hear anything he had to say. He eventually called his parents to ask them to come and get him.
It was the best breakup I ever had.

I'm a Nerd. No, Seriously.

2007-11-07T15:04:00.000-05:00

Pure Nerd
82 % Nerd, 43% Geek, 26% Dork

For The Record:

A Nerd is someone who is passionate about learning/being smart/academia.
A Geek is someone who is passionate about some particular area or subject, often an obscure or difficult one.
A Dork is someone who has difficulty with common social expectations/interactions.
You scored better than half in Nerd, earning you the title of: Pure Nerd.

The times, they are a-changing. It used to be that being exceptionally smart led to being unpopular, which would ultimately lead to picking up all of the traits and tendences associated with the "dork." No-longer. Being smart isn't as socially crippling as it once was, and even more so as you get older: eventually being a Pure Nerd will likely be replaced with the following label: Purely Successful.
Congratulations!

Thanks Again! -- THE NERD? GEEK? OR DORK? TEST

Link: The Nerd? Geek? or Dork? Test written by donathos on Ok Cupid

This Monkey AIN'T Gone to Heaven

2007-11-07T11:24:00.000-05:00

My upstairs neighbors are fucking idiots.

They have a wooden deck that is above our enclosed patio area. Two nights ago they decided that they needed to wash off their deck rightnow. Having apparently never heard of such inventions as a broom and mop, they decided to use a hose. To wash off their two feet by five feet deck. For half an hour. Which washed off our patio as well, so thanks for that. But man am I glad we don't have patio furniture or a barbecue out there yet.

I came home from work yesterday and I noticed that our doormat was wet:

As I was fumbling with my keys, water dripped on my head. I looked up and saw this:

The stucco is actually bubbling up. The porch light is full of water. The doorjamb is swollen, as is the door. We currently cannot use our own front door, we have to use the sliding glass door, which is all kinds of secure.

I called my landlord and told him what happened and sent him the pictures. He called management the next day and managed to garble the message so much that management called my roommate to ask her about our neighbors spraying our door with their hose. She explained what really happened, and they said they would talk to the upstairs people. Dalyne went upstairs a bit later to make sure everyone knew what was going on. After knocking three times and finally ringing the doorbell twice, the mom finally answered. We knew that they were home because we could hear them.

In the course of the conversation, Dalyne learned that the dad had actually hooked up the hose to their hot water heater to hose off the deck, and, "whoops, I guess he didn't turn it all the way off", but she thought that if we just let everything dry out, it would be fine. She didn't take up the offer to come and test out our porch light though.

Stupid Girl

2007-11-02T12:59:00.000-04:00

I've been trying to think of how best to write about what happened in the next phase of my life, and so far I've come up with nothing. A large part of that is due to the fact that my memories from this portion of my life are cluttered, unclear, and full of gaps, the reasons for which will become evident.

After Jim broke our engagement, I can now say that I was legitimately depressed. And angry. I felt nearly every negative emotion you can think of, and I desperately wanted to be outside of my own head, away from the memories and the aching pain I felt.

I went from drinking occasionally on weekends to drinking every weekend and during the week. Given the amounts of alcohol I was consuming, it's really surprising that I remember as much as I do. My tolerance was so high that I once drank a 300 (or more) pound guy under the table, and then finished the handle we had been sharing. I regularly ditched classes, mostly first period. I didn't even really do anything while I was ditching, just hung out with whoever I had convinced to come with me. Usually it was Terra, but we would occasionally bring other friends with us. I'm not sure how to broach this, because I'm not really sure how it started, but here goes. Terra's mom was bipolar, and she was on a lot of different medications. I don't know at all how it started, but we would steal pills from her and take them. I usually didn't even know what I was taking. One time that I remember, I took a Klonopin at lunch. In the next class it hit me pretty hard. I was sitting at my desk when my head suddenly felt incredibly heavy. I collapsed forward onto the desk, hitting it with my forehead. A friend of mine in the class helped me sit back up and managed to prop me up at my desk so I wouldn't fall out. He asked me what I had taken, and then looked it up. Klonopin is a benzodiazepine, used to control seizures, anxiety, schizophrenia, and a slew of other things. My friend watched me the rest of the period, even walking me to my next class. I tell you this to demonstrate how other people cared much more about what happened to me than I did. I literally didn't care. I drank whatever was in my hand, took whatever pill was handed to me, and put on a mask and pretended I was fine. I laughed and joked and chatted, and no one was the wiser.

The summer after we graduated, Terra went to Ireland with her sister, and after she got back we had a weird falling out. I started spending more and more time with Joe. He was having problems or his own trying to deal with social environments that he had never encountered before, due to his home-schooled upbringing. He drank nearly as much as I did, smoke a lot of weed (which I never did, I hate the smell), and did a few other recreational drugs like acid. I didn't really ever pay attention to what he was doing though. I didn't really pay attention to much. At some point, Joe got himself kicked out of the house he was living in. He wasn't allowed to move back home, so, having no other options, he set up camp in a trailer park. That's right. A trailer park. He didn't even have a trailer, he was living in a tent.

After a while I started coming back to myself. I had been taking classes at a local community college, mostly because that was just what you did after you graduated. I wasn't taking random pills anymore since Terra and I weren't friends anymore. I was drinking less because I had to be at work and class more, which meant that I had to drive more. But I still managed to do something supremely stupid. I convinced my mom that it would be a good idea for Joe to move in with us.

Didn't You Love Me?

2007-10-17T16:30:00.000-04:00

It was indeed years until I saw Joe again. When I did see him next, I was getting gas at a station that I typically did not go to, as it was on the opposite side of the town from my house. Think for a minute about how much time you spend at the gas station if you are only fueling up. I had already gone inside to get my change and was getting back into my car when I heard my name. I looked around and on the other side of the pump was Joe. He had literally just pulled up. In another ten seconds we would have missed each other completely. Every time I think about it, I wonder how many times I have missed someone by that narrow a margin. I was in a rush to somewhere else, probably work, so we exchanged numbers and I went off to wherever I had been going.

I don't remember who called who, but Joe and I did start talking again. It turned out that he lived quite close to my then best friend, Terra. An interesting thing to note is that both Terra and Joe lived on the same side of town that I did, and actually even farther away from that fateful gas station. One day Terra and I took a walk over to hang out with Joe and his friends. Joe had actually moved out of his parents' house, and into a tiny house one house down from his parents. We hung out, listened to music, drank, and had a general good time. Right away I noticed that, in addition to shaving off his hair, Joe had gotten the double earlobe pierced. We continued to hang out and kill the endless hours of our small-town youth. I was seventeen. It was during this time that I started smoking. Literally everyone around me smoked, including my mom. One day I just leaned over and took Joe's cigarette out of his hand and took a drag. It is nearly impossible to describe that sensation, your first drag from a cigarette. At first, all of the nerves in your throat react, almost like getting goosebumps in your throat. Then there is a tightness in your chest, almost as though your lungs are expanding. Your heart starts to pound as you exhale, choking a little from the acrid smoke. Then the nicotine hits your bloodstream, and your head suddenly feels light as a feather. Your scalp tingles. Your eyes widen as your entire body starts to feel like you are cushioned against the very air by some strange force, almost like being wrapped in silk. Is it any wonder that people spend years of their lives, thousands of dollars, and their own health trying to regain this sensation? The catch is that you can never experience that first drag again. It remains an elusive enticement, hovering on the edge of attainment.

During this time, Jim was in Monterrey. He and I talked on the phone about two to three times a week, and we were increasingly fighting when we talked. He wanted to talk about the things that he was doing and learning, I was more interested in using what little time we had to plan for our future together. He wanted me to take care of nearly everything. I wanted him to discuss things with me. We had a lot of those little nit-picky fights that are not about what we are saying they're about. We started talking less. Then one day I walked over to my usual place at lunch and Jim was there. I hadn't seen him in months, and the last time I had seen him was very brief and completely lacking any quality time together. Needless to say, I was ecstatic about his surprise visit. Until he took me aside to have one of the most devastating conversations of my life. He said that he felt the foundation of our relationship was lacking and that we needed to work on being best friends before we could go further in our relationship. What he meant was that he wanted to break off our engagement. I couldn't do anything beyond shake my head "no" while tears poured down my face. Then lunch ended and I had to go to class. He left with his ride back to Monterrey early the next morning and I never heard from him again. Much later I found out that the girl who gave him a ride down was pregnant. As far as I know they got married.

Gouge Away

2007-10-09T20:14:00.001-04:00

I know that I said that story would be continued, and it will. The past few weeks my life has been attacking me. My boss gave me a list of tasks to prepare for our next audit, and I am still recovering from the last one. He literally told me to take as much overtime as I need to get these things done. Doesn't that sound fun?

Sweet Dreams (Are Made Of This)

2007-09-13T11:23:00.000-04:00

I had a dream about Joe last night. He looked the way he did when we were together the last time. In my dream, Mama, Dennis, Brian, Joe and I were all at some restaurant, celebrating something. I think it may have been my birthday. After some drama in the parking lot involving Brian and someone else's truck and a lot of blue paint, we all went inside to eat. Despite my best efforts, I ended up sitting next to Joe. Even in my dreams, he has that same magnetic pull on me. I know that I should stay as far away from him as I can, but I am still drawn to him like a moth to the flame. That's how it always was.

The first time I met Joe I was thirteen. He went to the same church that I did, and we both went to Youth Group on Tuesday nights. He must have been fourteen or fifteen when we first met. The first thing that you see when you look at Joe are his huge eyes. They are this blue-green color with flecks of gold that you can feel yourself falling into, like Alice down the rabbit hole. Absolutely mesmerizing. When I first met him, and for a few years after, he had longish hair, which frequently hid his eyes. Then he would turn and look right into my eyes and my breath would catch. The reason Joe grew his hair so long was because he had two complete earlobes on his left ear and he was embarrassed about it. I thought that it was cool and unique, and I continually suggested that he pierce them and show them off. This is important later. The second thing that you noticed about Joe was his height. Even then he was towering over nearly everyone.

Joe and I quickly became friends. There were a few other people in our Youth Group that we were close to, like Chris, Rachel and Rebekah, that changed over the years. But Joe and I were always the center. When we first met, I had a boyfriend (Ricky, who would soon move away to Virgina) and Joe was involved with a girl whose name I have forgotten. I disliked her intensely, that much I do remember, so I will call her Krystal. Joe was odd in quite a few ways, one of which was that he was home-schooled. His parents were very controlling and did not approve of their son having a girlfriend. So he and Krystal kept their involvement a secret, but they weren't very good at it and Joe was constantly getting into trouble with his parents. Through this time, I did my best to advise Joe without letting him know that I could not stand Krystal. They had a lot of intense fights and I eventually began to advise Joe that he should end their involvement. This sparked an argument between Joe and I, and we drifted apart for a while. During that time I dated a boy that I barely remember, and he and Krystal eventually ended things when he found out that she was calling someone else her boyfriend but still wanted Joe. After Krystal was out of his life, Joe and I became close again. We also became increasingly attracted to each other. I wanted everything to be open and honest, but Joe's parents still did not want him dating anyone, so he wanted to keep things secret. This didn't sit well with me, and I did my best to avoid becoming more involved with him, without much success. It's hard to explain exactly how I felt about Joe. It was like some part of my brain was completely attuned to him. Whenever he was anywhere near me, I knew exactly where he was. He was like a beacon, I could always sense his presence. So, even though I told myself over and over that we were just friends, that was far from true, and we both knew it.

One of the groups I was involved in with my church was the (aptly named) Drama Club. I convinced Joe to join it, since we badly needed a guy or two for some skits we wanted to perform. I'm not sure exactly why or how, but the Drama Club ended up going to Ensenada, Mexico to perform skits in parks around the city. The skits were bizarre, set to music and without any speaking. It was more like interpretive dance, really. Only not so much dancing as moving around. We spent a fair amount of time in the city center, eating tacos from stands and shopping for trinkets. There was a ring that I wanted, but I couldn't bargain the vendor down to the price I wanted, so I decided to pass. Later that day, Joe came up to me and handed me that ring. Things like that were what made it so hard for me to stay away from him. We would reach an agreement about the status of our relationship as friends only, and then he would do something incredibly sweet that would just shatter all of my defenses. He remains one of the few people who were ever able to break those defenses down. I was only able to finally leave him when he no longer had that effect on me. But whether that was due to the ways he changed or my heart becoming hardened against him, I may never know. Either way, it took years.

I started high school and met Amber, better known as Glytch. We became fast friends and I was invited to join her family on their yearly summer trip to some property they have in Mexico. It was the kind of place that is an hour from the nearest town and you absolutely cannot find unless you know where it is. I was looking forward to getting away from everyone at my church, especially Joe, who was again trying to have a secret relationship with me. It was an amazing place; miles of pristine beach that you could walk on forever without seeing so much as a footprint from another human being. It was the ideal place to ignore the world and sort out my thoughts without the influence of Joe's hypnotic eyes. It didn't hurt that the friend Amber's brother brought was very attractive. He and I flirted up a storm, much to the chagrin of Amber's parents, who have yet to forgive me my youthful transgressions. The third day of that trip took a strange turn. Late the night before, a large group had arrived and set up camp in the area. The next morning, Amber and I were walking down to the water to swim. I had taken out my contacts because I was paranoid of losing them in the water. As we walked along the path, two figures appeared ahead of us, walking towards us. I, being blind at that moment, was completely taken by surprise when I heard a familiar voice call my name. It was Kent, another guy from my church. The person walking next to him was Joe. It turns out that Joe had gone on a surf camp trip with a bunch of guys from church. They had been to two other spots previously that trip, neither of which had good surf. Someone in the group remembered going to the camp I was at a few years ago and somehow was able to find it again. So in all the miles of beach camps along the coast of Baja, Joe ended up in the same exact place I was.

Once I saw him, I threw a fit. I yelled at him that I had come down here to get away from him specifically. I told him to stay away from me while he was there. Amber and I went down to the ocean and I stormed about the unfairness of it all for a while. I decided that I was going to show Joe that we were just friends by ignoring him and becoming more involved with Kevin, Amber's brother's friend. I didn't realize it at the time, but what I was really doing was trying to make Joe jealous. It worked, and Joe talked to me about how he felt about me and that he truly wanted to be with me and that I had been right all along about not keeping our relationship a secret. I had thought that was what I wanted, but as he spoke, I found myself becoming angry. I asked him to stop telling me everything I wanted to hear, that I knew when we got back it would just be the same fears and restrictions again. He swore that it wouldn't. I told him I would think about it. Later that day Kevin told me that he had seen our exchange and that it was obvious that there was something between Joe and I. He asked me to choose either him or Joe. I have a huge stubborn streak, so I told him that since he was asking me to choose, I would choose Joe, who had seen me with Kevin but hadn't said a word to me about it. Yes, Joe understood me very well. He and I spent some time together the next few days, but I was still very wary of him and spent a lot of time with Amber or by myself. Amber was an incredible friend to me that summer. I was doing things that must have frustrated her to no end, but she was always there to listen to me and help me figure out what I was thinking, or to distract me from myself. She remains one of my greatest friends, in spite of a few years of asinine behavior from me.

Once the vacation ended it was time to return to the real world and see if Joe would live up to his promises. I soon found out that he would not, he was too used to his parents' control and, even though he chafed under it, he was unable to go against them for the time being. Joe began to change in other ways though. He met another girl whom his parents did approve of, and he openly dated her. I was bitterly jealous and dated a series of guy that I really cared nothing for. Joe couldn't exist without drama though, so one day he came to me with a problem. His girlfriend suspected that she was pregnant. There was a catch though. Joe confessed to me that, while they had some as closed as you physically can, they had never actually had sex. Once I gave Joe a proper biology lesson, he determined that she was a little too desperate and crazy for his taste, and they broke up. Shortly after that Joe was kicked out of the Youth Group after he was caught smoking weed. Amazing tactics at that church. A few months later I stopped going to Youth Group because I started working part-time after school. It would be two years until I saw Joe again. It was during this time that I met Jim, got engaged to him, and got unengaged to him.

To be continued...

One Fine Day

2007-09-10T18:47:00.000-04:00

Every girl daydreams about being proposed to and how she most wants that moment to happen. Every woman who has ever been proposed to will remember that moment for the rest of her life. In some rare and magical instances, the girlhood daydream is transformed into reality by a man who cares enough about that dream to learn it and aid in its formation. More often, this event is a moderately close attempt at romance as re-imaged by a man being advised by at the very least four different people all at once (a friend of hers, a friend of his, a relative of hers, and a relative of his, all hopefully women). And then there are those who receive the type of proposal that is solely derived from a sense of obligation. I was one of those.

Jim and I met in high school through mutual friends at the beginning of my Junior year and his Senior. My high school had a few of the typical cliques, but it also had a fair amount of people like me, who were not associated with any one clique but tended to drift from group to group with friends in all of them. Jim was also one of these types; it seemed that everyone knew him and genuinely liked him. I'm not sure how exactly we ended up being "officially boyfriend-girlfriend", but we did and I quickly became known as Jim's Girlfriend. We did typical small-town couple activities, lots of movie watching and double dates and In-N-Out. We were each others first everything. We got each other into trouble with our parents. We went to Prom and Homecoming together. We were in love.

Jim enlisted in the Air Force.

I always knew he would, he was in ROTC and his father and his grandfather had been in the military. I didn't think that it was a fantastic idea, but I acknowledged that there were not many options open to a high school senior with mediocre grades and an average SAT score. I supported that it was his decision to make. We often talked about the future and being together through the hard times he would face. Then he found out that he was color-blind and would not, in fact, be able to become a military pilot. He would become a linguist, and his first language assignment was to be Mandarin Chinese. This meant that he would go to Basic Training (Boot Camp for all other branches of the military) for six weeks in Texas and then immediately start his linguistic training in Monterrey for six months, after which he would most likely be stationed in Japan. I would be graduating high school around that time, give or take a month.

One Sunday morning, Jim and I were discussing this very topic and I mentioned how difficult it would be to be apart for such a long time. He got an odd look on his face and fell silent. A few minutes later he said, "What if we weren't apart for that long?" I asked him what he meant, to which he replied, "If we were married you would move with me when I went to Japan." I agreed that this was indeed true, since being married meant living together and such. He asked me "Do you think we should do that?" I said I did and just like that I was seventeen years old and engaged to be married in less that one year.

Love and Memories

2007-08-28T12:21:00.000-04:00

I remember when I was a kid, my brother and I used to plan out having an animal sanctuary in our backyard. We drew up very elaborate plans about where the different types of animals would be so as to best accommodate them all. The house I grew up in had a huge backyard. As I've talked about before, one side of the yard held The Aqueduct of Doom. The rest of the yard was a veritable kids' paradise. There was a swing set, complete with a slide (that I once tried to ride a tricycle down), a playhouse with a tire swing in the tree next to it, a tree house in a different tree (there were a lot of trees), an above-ground pool, and finally there was a chicken coop. For the chickens.
Our plans almost always centered around the playhouse. This would alternately serve as a reptile room (my brother always wanted to be a herpetologist) or an area for smaller rodents. We planned to put horses in the back corner, near where the chicken coop was. Oddly enough, the people that moved into my old house did put horses there, so perhaps we were on to something. Over near The Aqueduct of Doom, we had an area that was already sectioned off from the rest of the yard; I think at one time it had been a dog run. We were going to convert that area into something for climbing type animals, like monkeys, bush babies, lemurs, and the like.
The rest of the yard would be dedicated to large cats, since I was mildly obsessed with them. I think we may have planned to have otters or seals or penguin in the pool at various points in time.The one animal that we never included in our plans were bears. My brother used to have recurring nightmares about bears eating us and him trying to rescue us from said bears.
Once we had all of our animals in place, we were going to open our backyard for admission and give tours and teach people about the different types of animals and why they were important.

Never Enough

2007-08-17T11:00:00.000-04:00

Why do I have such a hard time enjoying something good happening?

Backstory that you've probably already heard:
I used to work on campus at UCSB in the main kitchen and the entire time I worked there, I had a mad crush on one of the chefs, Ricardo. We were friends and hung out a few times, but nothing ever came of it and we fell out of touch after I graduated.
Flash forward seven months to the Gunther concert, where I ran into him on campus. We chatted and did our How've-You-Beens and then he had to go. No big deal. Another few months go by and then one day out of the blue he called me up and asked me if I'd like to have dinner and see a movie. A month of schedule juggling later, we finally went out. And we still are.
It's all very Sixteen Candles.
So here's my deal. I keep thinking that it's a set up or something. I don't know how to explain myself completely. I just keep anticipating everything to crash and burn. Which I am well aware is Crazy Talk. But it's in my head and I can't get it out. It is seriously starting to bother me. He does these great and unexpected things, and I can never just relax and fully appreciate it. I mean, he knew I liked wine, so the other night when he came over to watch a movie, he brought a Riesling for christsake. Not to mention the fact that he loved Serenity.
So what is my problem? Why do I always have this vague sense of dread whenever something good is happening in my life?

Clockwatching

2007-08-09T13:39:00.000-04:00

There are a lot of things that I've been meaning to write about, but I just can't seem to muster the energy. Not even to write, but to do anything really. Everything I think about trying to do has taken on a monumental impossibility. I haven't even gotten around to making a To Do List, because thinking about it makes me want to take a nap. I'm a habitual list-maker, so that's a bit major. Another indication that I'm not quite myself is that my desk is not neat and tidy. I'm one of those weirdos who has trouble functioning with a messy desk, but at the moment, I just can't be bothered. I have a ton of things to do, but I have to wait to get started on them.

I think that has a lot to do with my lethargy. I feel like my whole life has been spent waiting for one thing or another. Waiting to finish high school, waiting to transfer to a UC, waiting to finish my degree, waiting to hear if I got that job, waiting, waiting, waiting. Not to mention all the little waitings in life. And I'm still waiting for things. I'm waiting to take the LSAT next month. I finally finished waiting to start studying for it this week, so that at least is one less thing I'm waiting for. Once I take it, I'll have to wait for the results. And then wait to apply to schools. Wait to hear back. Wait to go. Wait for my life to start.

I'm sick of waiting for that.