You know all of those online sites like facebook, friendster, etc.? Well they always ask who you "would like to meet." I suppose this is for those who use such sites to meet people (which I am not against, just not for myself, thanks). After a week at home on vacation, I'm tempted to write in the blank:

"Someone who finds the ability to do crossword puzzles and sudoku incredibly sexy. Especially in flannel pajamas, with a huge cup of coffee."

Because really, what could be a better morning than that?

When you're stuck with day, that's gray and lonely...

Or all of the bad news just starts to get to you:

www.happynews.com

Enjoy!

The first step is admitting you have a problem

I'm a little embarassed to admit it, but I REALLY like that Howie Day song "Collide." You know, it's the one they play as a promo for practically every movie coming out that involves romancy stuff (including Pride and Prejudice, however inappropriate the tune is for period piece love stories).

Perhaps it's my inner 13-year-old that digs the cheesy tune and lyrics.

Ew

Tonight I learned something I could have easily gone my whole life without knowing.

There are these little bugs. They're called fungal gnats. They like to eat plants. Specifically, a mum that I had moved up to my room to keep it out of the way of the guests at our holiday party. That last detail is important.

When I went into my room tonight, there was an actual infestation of gnats all over my curtain and on the wall up by the ceiling. I was (and still am) understandably grossed out. It was not so bad at first; bugs don't really bother me. But after going through three strips of tape on my lint roller that emerged covered in little tiny bugs, well...it's starting to get to me. So I'm sleeping on the couch tonight. I can't handle the thought of sharing my room with the gnats. I will strip and clean everything tomorrow. In the meantime, there's a bowl of red wine vinegar and baking soda diluted with water, which according to the internet will trap and drown the little bastards.

My nose itches. And my collarbone. And my ankle...it's going to be a long night.

Winter Wonderland

We had our first snowfall in DC the other night. Now, this obviously is not my first winter here, but it is my first winter with a car. I knew there would be some differences, but wasn't particularly worried about it.

So yesterday when I came out to drive to work at my usual time, I stopped and thought, "Crap, there's a lot of snow on my car." And then I thought, "Hmm...I wonder how I'm going to get it off." Because, you see, in just sort of anticipating the fact that it would be cold and snowy and such, it never actually occurred to me to buy stuff like ice scrapers or brushes or whatever other accessories one might need to clean snow or ice off a car. In Texas, when there is snow or ice or really just light snow flurries, EVERYTHING shuts down and people run for their lives to get the essentials from the grocery store because it could be a WHOLE DAY before you get to move around again. And really, crazy as it seems, this is how it should be. When the weather is that gross, I think we should all be able to stay in our warm pajamas and fuzzy slippers and watch daytime TLC or whatever Christmas shows are on the family channel. We should not have to pile into galoshes and heavy coats and dig our cars out and slide along to a day of non-essential work that could be accomplished another time.

So the end of my first attempt at digging out my car: I got to work twenty minutes later than normal (not anticipating, once again, the extra time it would take to do the digging) and I shredded up this magazine thing that had been on the floorboard of my car for who knows how long. It doubled very nicely as a shovel of sorts.

Evil Personified, coming in next month's Vogue!

I find it strange that every time the news media report on the Saddam Hussein trial, they also give a detailed account of what he was wearing at the time.

Fair Warning

So with the holidays, I've seen so many spots focusing on St. Jude's. Now, don't get me wrong, I am certainly not complaining. I think St. Jude's does incredible work and also think that it's important to spotlight such things, especially during the holidays where the main focus, while probably unintentional, tends to focus on materialism and decadence. But I digress.

The only problem with these spots is that they make me tear up. Or downright cry. But one of the two ALWAYS happens. I can't watch them - even the one with the actors reading the words of parents - without getting a little weepy. And it appears that these spots are going to continue for the rest of holiday season. So this is just a heads up to let anyone who might come into contact with me: I will probably be an emotional wreck by the end of December.

But if you have no idea what I'm talking about, you should check out the work they do - I'm okay with giving into the weepiness if it's a worthy cause.

Why...

do people clap at the end of movies? It's not like the actors are there to hear you, or take a bow or anything.

do people feel the need to say things like "oh, that song is about..."? The whole point of music is that you get to interpret it for yourself.

do I always wonder when I'm singing along to music (with my headphones on) in my car, "This would sound pretty terrible if my phone accidentally dialed someone and they heard me singing this rocker song a capella right about now..."? Like that would ever really happen.

A Review

Oh, and the new Harry Potter movie is fantastic. You should go see it. I think Gina and I are going again today, it was THAT GOOD.

Hey guys, I know it's been awhile.

The other night E and Gina and I went to this WEIRD dance thing. Now, I would like to believe that with a fairly extensive arts background, that I could appreciate just about any form of dance. But this thing was strange. And I kept thinking, am I missing something? Are these people around me just more intellectual and in touch than I am, and for some reason does this relate to them and not to me? But no, I think they were all just faking it for the sake of being trendy. The dance troupe had gotten good reviews from other people (who I also think were faking it) and no one wants to appear stupid - I mean The Washington Post liked it, so we should too!

The "dancing" mostly consisted of strange posing to odd noises...some of which were music, others were spoken word, others involved some loud and rather grating ululating woman. There was a beautiful violin solo, but the dancer didn't really do anything with the music. And the most frustrating thing was the fact that the dancers looked like they could do incredible things if they wanted to - they were muscled beyond belief, not an ounce of fat. So I was hoping for BIG JUMP! and all I got was weird pose after weird pose, and oh wait, that was an awkward pose. Something to change it up I guess.

But the good news: I only spent $15 for the ticket. And I got a night at the Kennedy Center and dinner in the Terrace Cafe with two friends. Totally worth it.

Oh, and as a side note, one of the dancers had in her bio that her hobbies were minimalism and existentialism. Doesn't she sound like a barrel of laughs?!

Prelude to the best Ali G interview yet

This just kills me.

I'm sorry, people that are making the new Pride and Prejudice movie, but I just don't approve.

No matter who you cast (and as an aside, why did you choose Keira Knightley?) no one will ever be as hot as Colin Firth as Mr. Darcy. No one. You might as well stop now.

Perhaps there is just a cold dark hole where my heart should be

But I didn't find the dramatic scene in Desperate Housewives at all sad last night. (In case you missed it: lady runs into street wearing wedding dress and begs boyfriend not to leave her, he drives off leaving her screeching in the middle of the road). Actually, I'm not the least bit sympathetic to her - she lied like crazy and this are the consequences. I know how I was supposed to be reacting, but not so much. Good try writers, but this one didn't even hook me a little bit.

Quote of the Day

"Is there some sort of winking thing that Czech people do? Or did I just make a new friend??"

Virginian

Not the rifle-totin' kind though: I got my Virginia license and plates today, so I'm officially a resident. Is it strange that I kind of want to tack up my old Texas plate as a decoration? Good, I didn't think so either.

On a unrelated note, does anyone else think that the sound of any Nickelback song on the radio is much like fingernails down a chalkboard? Man those guys suck. And Train, they're pretty damn annoying as well. Thank goodness for mp3 players.

There's something just wrong with this situation:

I was listening to NPR on my way to work this morning (see earlier post re: me being a nerd) and there was this heart-wrenching story about the Pakistani earthquake and how horrible it is and how practically none of the pledged money from the international community has been received. Then they cut to the telethon fund-raiser that's been going on for what seems like YEARS, and ask again for money to support their programs, with apparently no sense of irony or shame. And I'm thinking: hmm, starving babies in Pakistan or radio programs? No brainer.

New Link

Check out the new "Tricks of the Trade" site off to the right.

This one is my favorite so far:

Street Musician:

Wear a kilt when playing bagpipes on the street. You will make twice as much money than if you wear regular clothes.


Actually, this one is pretty great as well:

Zookeeper

To get an ornate horned frog to release your finger (these gluttons bite hard and are keen to swallow as much of your hand as they can) apply a drop of household vinegar to a corner of the frog's mouth. It will release instantly.

Definitive proof that I am a nerd

I went to a swanky Washington ball tonight. The best part?

I was THIS CLOSE to Sandra Day O'Connor. How cool is that?!

I have grown to detest the smiley

I know that writing emails and such can be impersonal. It's often hard to convey tone, intent, a smile you had when you typed...these things just don't usually go so well in electronic form.

So we have the smiley face. :). Meant, it seems, to soften any email - let the reader know that you were in fact kidding, not just being rude...that it's a sarcastic comment, nothing outright mean.

Trouble is, now I can't get away from it. When I try to go without, I get comments. Yet I still feel so cheesy every time I type one in...as if I'm dotting my eyes with hearts or making dramatic curly-cues with my name in cursive. I am not an eighth-grader anymore, but the smiley sure makes me feel like one. I don't know what else to use though. I know that I come across poorly sometimes, but I rarely if ever mean to, usually I'm joking along too. I swear! I'm the kid that someone would tease, and when I then pretended to act offended or roll my eyes, the teaser tried to apologize. It takes a very great deal to really offend me, just so you all know. I spent the entire first 15 years of my life getting crap for being smart and wearing glasses and the like. So I'm pretty much ready for whatever you got.

But back to the smiley...damn thing has me cornered. And DO NOT even get me started on the new-fangled smileys that convey a range of emotions...I pretty much hate those too...even more than the normal smileys.

:)

Bumper sticker politics

On the way to work this morning I see this:

If you can read this
You're not the President.

Now that's funny.

Bad idea jeans

Does anyone else think that an at home chemical facial peel that's on sale might be a bad idea?

Just writing that made my face hurt a little.

so international

Did you ever wonder what my first name looks like in Russian?

I thought so:
Рэйчел

Here's Azeri:
Reyçel

Pretty cool, huh?

"Beautiful Man"

Listening to this song makes me wish that it made me think of someone.

Concert recap

Someone indirectly asked me (it's a long story, not interesting enough to tell) about my favorite Coldplay concert moment. It got me thinking about it.

Tough question. Largely because I have to think about specific moments, and in a whole blur of people and music and lights and whatnot, those are sort of hard to narrow down.

I think one of my favorites is a general feeling. It's that semi-silence right before a new song is going to start, when the very first hints of chords are being played, and you just know that everyone in the audience is thinking, "which one is this...?" Then there is the tell-tale sound, the dead giveaway of a certain intro, and everyone goes NUTS.

Everyone singing along to "Fix You," just like they do in the video. That was unbelievable.

Hearing "Yellow" live, because that (despite it's being overplayed) is still one of my favorite rock songs of all time.

Ditto for "The Scientist." Except it's probably more of a ballad, not a rock song.

I also love hearing the band chat with the audience; it makes everything so much more personal.

And last but not least, there's this high that lasts for days every time you see people that talented perform, whether they're huge or a garage band. Music is so great.

I'm not really sure what happened...10 days with no blogging have just gone by really quickly I guess.

I went back to Texas. And there was a hurricane. Much drama - grandmother had to be evacuated from Beaumont (by the Air National Guard!), friend was trapped in Houston, other friends couldn't make it up for the planned Saturday night fun. It was crazy. But fun too, and incredibly hot. And that's not Paris Hilton "hot", it's 102-for-a-high-in-September-breaking-all-former-records-hot. It's almost unbelievable that I'm back up here and our low last night was in the 40's. One nice thing about the east coast: fall is an actual season as opposed to a couple of days in October.

I also went to the Coldplay concert, which was GREAT. I love seeing bands I like perform live, there's really nothing like it. And I got to feel like a benefactor: we had an extra ticket because Ginger (as formerly mentioned) was trapped in Houston, so at the last minute we thought to invite my twenty year old cousin. Turns out she is a huge fan and literally went into a girl screaming fit of excitement after I called her, prompting the girls in her tiny college dorm to ask "Is someone engaged!?" Oh but no, way cooler than that (at least when you're 20!) - Coldplay tickets!

I think that's it. I'm so glad it's Friday and the weather is gorgeous. I just might be a good citizen of our nation's capital and hit a museum or two this Saturday. I'll keep you posted...

"Two trailer park girls..."

I can't type "FCC" without launching into an entire Eminem rap. All in my head...luckily for those sitting around me.

26 with a bang

Yesterday I turned 26. It was a pretty fun day, rather uneventful, but I got to hear from a lot of friends, which is really my favorite part of birthdays anyway. My favorite e-card was from my former roommate who is from Poland - she sent me a card that I couldn't really figure out at first, then I realized that at least half of the words were in Yiddish and the little dog in the cartoon had on a yarmulke. Hilarious, largely because I'm pretty sure she had NO idea what she was sending to me.

So in other news, Britney Spears also had her baby on my birthday (as Barbara so quickly pointed out in her e-card!). Sarah and I had been discussing that very fact on the phone, and how she was probably going to name it something atrocious. I hear now that it's "Preston", but in all likelihood, it's spelled Preztyn or similar. Because she's trashy like that.

And in the crowning achievement of my first day as a 26-year old, I got a slight case of food poisoning from my chicken salad that I had had for dinner, and spent the last 30 minutes of my big day (and the next four hours of the day after) feeling pretty awful.

If that's not an auspicious start to another year, then I don't know what is.

Ahem

My visitor was bit by a squirrel this weekend. Now I'm trying to decide, urgent care clinic or general practitioner? I mean, everyone has opinions on what we should do, but none of them are really qualified to make those decisions.

And, just to reiterate: My visitor was BIT BY A SQUIRREL this weekend. I have such a weird job.

That is all.


**Update: Squirrels are not usually rabid as people tend to think they are. Especially in cities. In the event of a squirrel bite, wash with soap and water and keep an eye out for infection. Other bites to look out for though: skunks and armadillos. Because we have lots of armadillos in DC.

Nice Metaphor, by Sting

**Must have heard this song at least twenty times, yet had no idea. Very profound, Sting...very profound.

Then I went off to fight some battle
That I'd invented inside my head
Away so long for years and years
You probably thought or even wished that I was dead
While the armies are all sleeping
Beneath the tattered flag we'd made
I had to stop in my tracks for fear
Of walking on the mines I'd laid

And if I built this fortress around your heart
Encircled you in trenches and barbed wire
Then let me build a bridge
For I cannot fill the chasm
And let me set the battlements on fire...

While watching Dirty Dancing on VH1's "Movies That Rock":

"How can you not love Dirty Dancing? It was THE romantic movie when we were little. Patrick Swayze was so cute...and you had to sneak around to watch it, because your mother forbade you watching anything called Dirty Dancing."

"And we (guys) liked that you liked it...it made you let loose and do some dirty dancing of your own when you went to college."

Perverts, the lot of them.

Please?

I would like to make a public plea to people describing the hurricane.

Please stop referring to it as "our tsunami." It most certainly is not. Not even close. It is extremely tragic, and I am very sad for everyone that lost homes and loved ones. However, every time some public figure refers to the hurricane in this manner, it not only reaffirms that Americans are perhaps the most egocentric people on the planet, but it also makes you look like a moron. I'm not going to go into the details here, but seriously, run a Google search on the two events, and just compare the statistics, and you will in fact see that this is nothing like the tsunami in Asia.

For everyone on the Gulf Coast, my prayers are with you, and with the Red Cross and FEMA and other workers.

Frustration

Who was supposed to be going on a fun, work-is-paying-for-it trip to New Orleans on Labor Day? Um yeah, that would be me. So now I have a plane ticket that Continental may or may not refund. To a city that is primarily under water at the moment. Even if the airport is open, what am I supposed to do when I get there? It's highly possible that hotel in which I have reservations no longer even exists.

No worries, I am not actually going to go. That would be ridiculous. But not as ridiculous as the Continental representatives that are stalling on me. They win in the contest of the ridiculousness.

Chicks were born to give you fever, be it fahrenheit or centigrade...

Someone just told me that wearing my hair straight "brings out [my] beauty."

I love compliments, truly I do. Maybe even more so than the average person...I'd like to believe that I take them well, too. None of this "oh, this old thing?" or "I can't believe you said that, I hate my hair" crap. I generally just say "thank you" (and grin enormously) because I choose to believe that if someone is going to take the time to say something nice to me, they probably mean it.

That being said, I would like to offer some commentary to Fate. If someone is going to like how I look or say nice things to me, could we mix it up a bit and throw some new people in? Perhaps people (ahem, men) who like women? And by like, I do not mean appreciate them for esoteric and aesthetic reasons, I mean like.



On a whole other subject, I have "Fever" by Peggy Lee stuck in my head, hence the title. I'll give you some more lyrics, because they are just that good:

Romeo loved Juliet, Juliet she felt the same
When he put his arms around her, he said "Julie, baby, you're my flame...
Thou givest fever...
When we kisseth, fever with thy flaming youth
FEVER! I'm a fire, fever yea I burn forsooth..."

Is that awesome or what? It's better if you can hear that fab 60's beat in the background. I highly recommend checking it out.

Today when I was driving home from work, the newscasters were chatting about the stupid Pat Robertson assasination comment. And, apparently for my entertainment, they chose to read other excellent quotes. This one made me swerve my car I was laughing so hard:

"Feminism encourages women to leave their husbands, kill their children, practice witchcraft, destroy capitalism and become lesbians."

Wow. It boggles the mind. And it's still funny.

Hmmm

It seems when I'm watching mindless TV, like "While You Were Out" on TLC or similar, there are an inordinate number of commercials for things for cats. I hope this isn't indicative of anything. Thank goodness I at least have plans to be social, otherwise I might worry a little :).

When weddings are cool

This last weekend, T got hitched to her main man, and a few of us from work went down to watch adoringly. The two of them are so completely adorable we can hardly stand it, or as I think E put it, "I'm totally in love with them being in love." At least it has set the bar - if the person in question doesn't make me as adorable as T and her man, it's clearly not worth it. But back to the wedding:

I loved that their wedding was so completely about them and the things they like, as opposed to just doing the things they think are supposed to happen at weddings. T walked down the aisle to a bagpiper, the solo was a beautiful acoustic rendition of "Be Thou My Vision" (which totally made me tear up), there was no clear color scheme (T had earlier remarked "My mom keeps asking me about my colors...and I'm pretty sure I don't have colors. This is stressin' me out!"), and the whole ceremony was great. We unfortunately arrived a wee bit on the late side due to a lack of communication about the location of the directions to the church, coupled with an unwise decision to follow people that were obviously going to the same wedding (but had even less of an idea how to get there). The topper of the ceremony was the truly over-the-top, open mouth, not-even-close-to-church-tongue first kiss. My friends are so cool.

And their friends were cool too. The theme of the groom's men was abundant facial hair...full beards to be exact. One guest was sporting a real-live mohawk, and not a little one, but one that stood a good foot off of his head. It was impressive to say the least. And he was break-dancing at the reception. The wedding party entered in to a Pixies song and the first dance was I think by Wilco, but frankly I'm not hip enough to actually know it (but I intend to ask her, because it was a good song!). We danced the night away to such classics as "Hot Steppa," "Gettin' Jiggy With It," and "The Twist." The night finished off with a closing dance to Prince's "Purple Rain." Well, the reception closed, and then we headed back to the hotel to work on our party favors. Which were, in fact, bottles of cheap Trader Joe's wine. Best. Wedding. Ever.

My head hurts just thinking about it

In a story related to me by a coworker, I discover that Kazakhstani men could outdrink even the most seasoned of American drinkers.

As a gift, the visitor presented a bottle of eighty proof herbal liquor. When asked what it was used for, he said it should be mixed with vodka. You know, to take the edge off the vodka.

!

Another good thing about having a car is that I can't forget my keys on my desk at work. Well, I can actually, but I can't get very far.

Starting the morning with a little Dave Barry

Two of my favorites quotes (one that borders on profound, and one that is just so very funny):

"A person who is nice to you, but rude to the waiter, is not a nice person." (Ain't it true?)

"It is inhumane, in my opinion, to force people who have a genuine medical need for coffee to wait in line behind people who apparently view it as some kind of recreational activity." (Amen!)

On driving on the east coast

E, while driving around Saturday, quips:

"Before, I used to use my blinker as a question. Now it's more of an announcement. 'Yes. I will be getting over now. Thank you.'"

Reaching middle-age at 25

I am such an old woman.

I have had a rather long and somewhat difficult week, add to that I haven't been sleeping all that well. So what am I doing on a Friday night? Having a darn good time if I do say so myself.

I am all alone in my house, which is pretty unusual. I had a mad craving for pasta in some sort of creamy sauce, so I ordered a Penne a la Vodka to pick up at a new Italian place. Then, right before the feeding frenzy began, I realized I had a bottle of wine that I bought at least a month ago at the Italian Store - Pinot Grigio, the perfect complement to my meal. Then I decided to make a theme night of it, and put in the DVD of "Under the Tuscan Sun", which is not my favorite movie, but it's pretty.

And it just made me almost snort wine through my nose, because the cute Italian real estate agent just said my favorite line from the movie: "Signora, please don't be so sad. If you continue like this I will be forced to make love to you, and I’ve never been unfaithful to my wife." How adorable is he? And how can Italian men be so simultaneously lecherous and adorable at the same time? Mind you, this is based on real-life as well as movies, so I'm not just blindly following stereotypes...only partially.

And now I just got drunk dialed from my friends in New Orleans.

This has already been a damn good night, and it's not even 9:00.

The email is up!

Again, thanks to Ebony.

I seriously doubt that anyone I don't already know reads this website, but hey, I've been surprised at things before.

So like I said earlier, if you have some sort of comment that you would like to share with me but not with the five other people that frequent this site, knock yourself out. Also, I would appreciate people emailing me links to other sites that I have more than likely forgotten in the little list off to the side. Muchas gracias in advance!

Some of the reasons I had to leave

Dear Rachel,

Someone from Waxahachie High School chose these Q&A answers to reveal details about life, love, family, or career.

Q: What kind of car do you drive? (Check all that apply)
A: Compact; Minivan

Q: What is your main source of current events?
A: Television

Q: How do you meet most of your friends? (Check all that apply)
A: Associations/volunteering; Church; Dog park; Through my children

Talk about different worlds.

I'm not a bad friend, I'm just technically inept

So I have FINALLY posted links to the sites that I read. I think they are pretty cool, and I highly recommend checking them out.

Having them all there in a little list, it makes me see how much time I really do spend reading stuff on the internet. Kind of pathetic in a way, but anyone who has my job will understand that it can be accomplished on most days with about 3 hours of actual work. So as I said before, please knock yourself in visiting my friends, both real and imagined, and I'm working on getting an email address so that you can send me other links or comments that you don't want to post for all to see.

**A BIG thank you should be given to Eb for copying and sending me all of the technical html stuff to do these links, otherwise it never would have happened!

When squirrels attack

Yesterday a co-worker came rushing out of the copy room and despite being out of breath, whispered a message to me. The message prompted me to send the following floor wide email:

____ FOUND A SQUIRREL IN THE COPY ROOM! DON’T OPEN THE DOOR!!

And of course, slight hysteria ensued. Turns out a squirrel had gotten in while we were having our airconditioner repaired, and had made a little nest with her squirrel baby in the copy room. Mama Squirrel was running around like crazy, and none of us were very excited at the prospect of going back in there to open the window (which was, of course, locked and couldn't be opened from the outside). So we did what all good company workers do: we called Maintenance. Poor guys, they were such good sports and let Mama out and caught Baby Squirrel in a net and set him out for her to take.

So then in the afternoon, the mama was back and was running around the outside, all around our windows and trying to get in and such. And it was making all of us feel really bad, because we thought maybe she didn't find the baby we left outside and something bad had happened to it or similar. But then this morning, the real problem was revealed:

Squirrels always have babies in pairs. Baby Squirrel #2 was still in our copy room.

And Mama Squirrel had somehow managed to get back in, and man was she pissed. Again the squirrel was running around like crazy, and again we called Maintenance. And Baby #2 was put outside. Unfortunately, as it happened, Mama Squirrel decided to give our poor worker a little punishment and bit him right on the hand.

Beware, beware. The squirrels, they are coming.

The bright side

The only good thing about being on hold with United Airlines, waiting for their somewhat incompetent customer service representatives, is that the hold music is "Rhapsody in Blue" by George Gershwin. It makes me want to dance at my desk as though I am Leslie Caron in An American in Paris. Just thought I would share.

Still holding...

Alanis goes acoustic

So Eb has already written a great post about this cd, but I'm going to add my praise as well.

Not to mention my thoughts as to how scary it is that I remember EVERY WORD from EVERY SONG (including the obscure ones, like "Perfect" and "Forgiven"). Seriously, I don't think I've listened to the whole thing since I was maybe 15...the mind is a wonderful and eerie thing.

Hello everyone! Sorry for the hiatus, wasn't exactly into the idea of being on the internet all that much. I was on vacation, after all...not that I didn't check my email at least once a day, because I am attached to it as though it is my invisible umbilical cord to the outside world.

I had SUCH a good time, got to do everything on my list and lots more. Movies in my hometown theatre are a whopping $4.50 for the matinees, so I saw two. I also ate lots and lots of Mexican food, and some barbecue; it all comes back to food for me.

There's more, I'm sure, but my brain is a bit fried. I drove 20 hours to get back to DC, so I could have a car here. Oh the glories of a car in this formerly inaccessible city! It cut my commute in half, and that alone was worth the twenty hours. But I saw some interesting things along the way:

License plates are quite varied. I saw one with a dancing crawdad in the middle, and I thought it was from Mississippi but then I couldn't find it on their website. A dancing crawdad license plate might make living in Mississippi worthwhile. Maybe the plate is from Louisiana - that might be more appropriate, but it was impossible to find anything on their website (which is also quite appropriate). Kentucky, however, had one that looks as though it should be painted on velvet.

Somewhere in southwest Virginia, there is a person or company building houses that look just like Lincoln Logs structures. Each log had to be at least two feet wide (in diameter, for you math nerds out there) and the houses even had the same little green roofs. There's no explaining taste sometimes, I suppose.

The Blue Ridge mountains are bee-yoo-ti-ful. I would totally have taken the scenic route had I not been roughly 16 hours into the trip.

Near Luray Caverns, they have "ENDLESS CAVERN" written a la the "Hollywood" sign on the side of a mountain. Seriously...illusions of grandeur much? I mean, I'm sure they're great but no one thinks you came up with that ad idea on your own.

Mostly the drive was uneventful. And it was quite enjoyable. Not that I'm looking to do it again any time soon, but all things considered I definitely had a good time. Now I just need to get lots of sleep to recover!

I'm comin' home!

Look out, Texas, because I will be there at approximately 7:41 pm. For my week and some-odd days at home I would like taste/experience/participate in the following (in no particular order):

Cheap movies
Mexican food
Happy Hour in Austin
Barbecue
Sonic fountain drinks
Chat with Brianna
Hang with my extended family
Drive a car
Catch up with Sarah

Give Eb hugs

And then I ask all of you to think of me on Monday and Tuesday (the 25 & 26 of July) as I will be driving a 1999 Saturn across the country. Yay for a car in Virginia! Someone really ought to warn Target. And Trader Joe's. For those of you in DC: will miss you, have a fun week, try not to cry yourselves to sleep every night from missing me; for those in Texas: can't wait to see y'all!

A little advice

In a conversation, it is most helpful if the participants have a least one language in common. For instance:

(At a gathering for an international group)

E: So, have you ever been to the United States before?
Syrian guy: (points to self) Architect.
E: Wow, really? That's great. So have you ever visited the U.S. before?
S.G.: I really miss my wife.
E: Er...okay. Nice chatting with you.

See?

And as a further aside, let's all encourage E to start her own blog. I know she wants to, deep down inside, and I think it would be damn funny if I do say so myself. I've already got about twenty emails she could start with...

This makes me so very sad. I know that terrorist attacks happen; frankly, I'm kind of at the point where they seem to be inevitable. But it still made my heart sink into my stomach this morning when I saw the news.

Despite past love letters to Paris, I'm equally smitten with London. I studied there when I was a sophomore...London represents Rachel at the age of 19/20, very clueless and naive, the first experience abroad, loving living in a big city (the city that started the must-eventually-live-in-a-big-city-bug), going to the theatre, trying Guiness and cider, feeling very grown up.

So what to do then? Besides thinking about the sad things happening to many beloved Londoners and listening to the radio reports...listening to Radiohead and drinking (strangely enough) French press coffee, just like it's 1999 and I'm in the kitchen on the third floor of the apartments on Auriol Road.

Feed me

I wonder what the magic age is when you stop appreciating a free lunch or dinner. My guess is never. But I don't know if that "never" includes going to meetings specifically because you know there will be food there...just like in college where I didn't really care all that much about the beautification of the campus mall, but free pizza? I'm in.

I'm going to dinner with a family friend on Thursday night, and it may or may not be some sort of fix-up, as there is a grad school son involved. But again, this is something I am totally willing to overlook/put up with for a meal in a restaurant I have never been to. I'm downright excited to tell you the truth. Of course the family friend is really nice and I had a good visit with her at the otherwise not socially exciting wedding, so I'm sure it will be fun on all fronts. But still, free dinner!

619,000

According to AAA, that's the number of people that will be going at least 50 miles away from DC this weekend.

What they did not share, at least not that I could find, was the number of people coming in. I have already counted at least 500 fanny packs. Why, why must you wear the fanny pack? It's not a requirement to be a dork when you travel. Maybe they didn't get the memo...

Summer movies, how I love thee

I love the summer movie season. Sometimes there are really good, thought-provoking movies. Other times stuff just gets blown up. I do not care, I enjoy them all. Well, the ones I choose to see anyway...let's not get crazy...but I still see quite a few.

So far:
Star Wars III - fun to see all the plots linking up, still with bad dialogue (but then all, yes ALL, six movies have had some cheese-filled lines thrown around)
Mr. and Mrs. Smith - pretty people blowing things up and shooting; good time
Batman Begins - dark with lots of action, good plot; Katie Holmes did not suck like I thought she would

Still want to see:
Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants - yeah go ahead and mock me, I don't care, I read the book and thought it was great; besides my 15-year old inner child needs to get out every now and then too
Madagascar - because I like cartoons, each summer needs at least one cartoon movie
Charlie and the Chocolate Factory - am SOOOO excited about this one, because the original was so much fun, especially when I was little (this was the second favorite movie of childhood, first was Disney's "Robin Hood" - the cartoon with the foxes, etc.)
Wedding Crashers - those guys are hilarious, no way I'm missing that

Just give me one of the above and bag of movie popcorn with lots of fake butter (which I will eat all by myself, thank you very much...try to steal some without asking and you may pull back a nub) and I will be a happy girl.

More misheards

In reading an online review a while ago (which I tried to find again, but couldn't), the girl wrote that the Shin's song, "Kissing the Lipless" was really very unusually dark, although it didn't appear to be so at first. This worried me, because I really like that song, and wondered about my subconscious scariness. She cited the line, "And secretly, I want to bury you in the yard..."

But then it turns out the lyrics are in fact:
And secretly, I want to bury in the yard
The grey remains of a friendship scarred
Lines which I certainly prefer as I think they are quite lovely and poetic and not at all psycho-killer in nature.

***

Another one from a Jenny Jones/Ricki Lake type talk show. Eb and I could not remember for the life of us who actually saw this, so perhaps in the end it was urban legend. But I still think it was her and she just forgot:

A woman in the audience stands up to comment on a show guest and society at large, and says:
"Like my girl Lauryn Hill says, 'How you gonna win when you ain't white and thin? How you gonna win when you ain't WHITE and THIN?'"

Which is probably a fairly valid point she makes. Too bad the actual lyrics are "How you gonna win when you ain't right within?"

Cause Célèbre

I find it interesting that for many of the campaigns for global change - i.e. One or Make Trade Fair - they spend considerable space listing all of the famous people that support the cause. I can't decide whether I like this or not. I don't really have problems with famous (not to mention ridiculously wealthy) people getting behind a cause, I just find it sort of distasteful that the support of a celebrity is necessary to get us "normal" folks involved in something. I mean, shouldn't the cause itself be enough to get our attention? I can't really blame the celebrities for using whatever means they can to support a cause...but then I'm not moved to pray and act for an end to poverty in the developing world because Bono told me to (even though I do think he is awfully dreamy!). Maybe it's a greater commentary on society, I don't really know; that we need the cool people, the hip crowd, to tell us what we should support, what is important to us. Maybe it's just a fine line between creating visibility for a cause and making the cause more about its celebrity supporters than the people they try to help. I certainly don't have any answers...nor am I criticizing the aforementioned websites for their content, it all just strikes me as being a bit odd.

Take me home, to the place I belong...

C was singing a John Denver song that I didn't recognize, but I should have. It was "Country Roads." Why should I have recognized it, you ask? Well, that is a funny story.

When I was in third grade we were allowed to branch out in our musical abilities in my elementary school. Not satisfied with the triangles and rhythm blocks anymore, we were advancing. After putting in our time in first and second grade, we could now do choir, recorders, or both. I did both, but the choir doesn't really factor into this story so much. Now when I say "recorder," no actual recording was going on. It looked like this (except mine was black and white) and my mom always called it a "flutophone" which I guess what they were called in 1961. I was in the recorder choir. John Denver was a popular artist in this crowd - we played both "Country Roads" and "Annie's Song." There was a concert at the end of the year, where 125 nine-year-olds played John Denver songs on recorders for half an hour. This is the real crux of the story - my parents actually came to the concert. Can you even imagine anything more hellish? True evidence of how much they loved me, I think.

Years later my little sister found the recorder and played it non-stop for what seemed like months until it mysteriously disappeared. Love has limits, people, and more than one child with recorder-playing skills might be that limit.

For the love

Why, while I am trying to book a one-way plane ticket, would you offer me the option of booking a one-way ticket and then redirect me to a page that says you don't offer one-way tickets?

I'm looking at YOU, www.hotwire.com.

Riiiiiight

Yesterday at lunch following a discussion about summertime, being at the beach, etc:

Me: "I can't even tan though, it's not worth trying."
Friend: "Well I can't either!"
Me: "But you're darker than I am!"
(hold up arms to compare...)
Friend: "Ooo, you're right. We should be best friends so I can be 'the tan one.'"

Misheard

As much music as I listen to, it's really quite amazing that I don't screw up the lyrics more often than I do. Today at work, while in a bit of a floor wide mood and looking for Montell Jordan's "This is How We Do It," we found Blackstreet's "No Diggity" on the share drive instead (have I also mentioned that we're known to listen to VH1 karaoke hits on Fridays? 'Cause we are...). This reminded me of an earlier misheard:

Actual lyrics: I like the way you work it, no diggity, I'd like to bag it up...
Guy in college heard: I liked it when you worked here, no diggity... (to which another friend quipped, "Did you think she worked in a grocery store? I like to BAG IT UP?!")


Another one: Chumbawumba, "Tubthumping"
Actual: I get knocked down, but I get up again...
I heard: I can't go down, 'til I get up again (makes no sense, I know, but then neither does the rest of the song anyway)


A so-sentimental-it-makes-you-gag-a-little song: Edwin McCain, "I'll Be"
Actual: I'll be your crying shoulder, I'll be love's suicide
Dear friend who shall remain nameless thought: I'll be your crying shoulder, I'll be love's superstar (the image works better if you do the Mary Catherine Gallagher SUPERSTAR! move while singing along dramatically)


I can't put my all-time favorite on here, otherwise people who run pervy searches on google would find my site and we can't have that. I will tell you it involves The Fugees' "Killing Me Softly" and if you email me, I'll tell you the whole story :).

Coldplay: X&Y

I will share my personal thoughts, not offer any sort of critique as to the advancement of their style or the difference between the other albums. Just a heads up.

I really like the new CD. The tunes are great to listen to, especially on headphones when I want to drown out DC. Many of them are related in some way to relationships/love/etc. and my almost teenage enjoyment of this confirms that I have a pretty constant and profound crush on British rock stars. But I digress.

I love a good album that you can just put on and listen to without skipping any tracks. Picking favorites is hard, so I won't do that. But "'Til Kingdom Come" makes me a bit melty. And "A Message" and "What If" are deliciously bittersweet. The chorus on "Fix You" is SO GOOD. I like all the other ones too, but the describing may already be getting a bit trite. So here at my website, we give it a rousing thumb's up, if that's worth anything to you.

Attention, internet users

I would like to make the following announcement for the greater good, general use of the internet, and my personal sanity:

Just because you read something on the internet does not make it true. This includes any emails, whether or not you have received them from people you know or consider to be reliable sources. Especially if they involve some sort of new deadly poisonous insect or gang initiation rituals.

Thank you for your time.

I want a purple hat too...

People tend to gripe about tourists when living in tourist-attracting cities. I think each city has their own special breed - ours tend to wear lots of patriotic t-shirts and fanny packs - but they all have them. I try not to be annoyed by them, even though they do sort of annoying things (like stand on the left side of the escalators where people walk or block entrances to wherever I'm going) because if nothing else, I myself have been a tourist and have certainly done annoying things in other cities. Not to mention the fact that the tourists make for excellent people watching. For instance:

On Sunday when I was coming home from my museum jaunt, I saw eight or so ladies waiting at the L'Enfant Plaza station, and man, they were DECKED OUT. They were wearing outfits of red and royal purple, in various combinations of tops and pants, but all of them loud. But the best parts were the hats, which were gi-normous and covered in things like feathers and sequins and big fake flowers, also in the theme of purple and red. One woman, the tamest of the bunch, had a purple visor with a big red rose hot-glued the top. I stared openly, there was no point in pretending I wasn't. I did at least shut my mouth so as not to be caught gaping.

Things are nutty these days at the National Mall, aka the big green lawn that spans from the Capitol to the Washington Monument. There are hordes of tourists, although Sunday afternoon wasn't all that bad...maybe by that point the tourists that were in for the weekend were already starting to head home.

I went to the National Gallery to see the Toulouse-Latrec at Montmontre exhibit. Now, I know that sounds awfully arty of me, but then keep in mind that I've been meaning to see this exhibit since April and I just went on the very last possible day. And it was crowded, not surprisingly. I didn't really get all that annoyed, because I had mentally prepared myself for lots of people...not without some self-criticism ("this is why I shouldn't put things off!!"). One thing that was unexpected: I miss Paris. A lot.

In looking at all of the great lithographs and paintings of people and Montmartre, a wave of homesickness for a city I only lived in for a few months just tackled me, right in the middle of the museum. I miss Paris and its winding, tiny streets with patisseries and crepe stands; and artists standing around and drawing people and buildings; and sidewalk cafes with good strong French coffee; and speaking French and knowing my way around the world's best Metro system; and the beautiful bridges that span the Seine; and the incredible art galleries, especially the little ones that none of the tourists visit; and oh la...I miss Paris.

I realize this might sound a bit snotty, as if I'm writing about Paris like people name shampoo products with French sounding names to make them seem fancier. But French culture and living and people and food and just everything really got under my skin over a long period of time, not just when I was living there. And I don't think I really realized to what extent this had occurred (or maybe I just remembered again...) until this afternoon.

So, Paris in October, anyone?

Recommendation

You should play on this site. So weird, and yet so funny. This one is my favorite:

http://www.edwardmonkton.com/gallery13.php

A bit twisted

I have a new website to play on. Things are better when based on a Monty Python quote. Perhaps it is fortuitous considering that "Spamalot" won for Best Musical last night. Whatever. I am beyond amused:

Dear Ask the Fish,
Why does everyone hate emo kids? Is it a cultural thing, or just inside the minds of the emo kids? If you don't know what emo is, find out for yourself. I'll tell you that it's a style of music, but that's all.
-Your Mom

Dear Your,
There have always been tensions between emo kids and the outside world, dating back to the enslavement of the Ebrews by the Num Et-Al dynasty. Anti-emotism as we know it today can trace its origins back over many centuries to the time of the early Christians, who blamed emo kids for making Jesus weep outside Jerusalem by playing him a Dashboard Confessional bootleg. The Middle Ages saw the onset of the Inquisition, during which emo kids were forced under pain of torture and execution to renounce the wearing of black hooded sweatshirts and other traditional garb. By the 19th century, widespread anti-emo pogroms throughout Central and Eastern Europe and Russia drove emo kids to seek refuge in the New World; many undertook the perilous journey across the Atlantic with little more than a journal and a copy of Pinkerton that "she" gave them. Anti-emotism currently manifests itself under several sly guises, most notably the social acceptability of the sentiment that Conor Oberst needs his ass kicked. So why does everyone hate emo kids? Some scholars attribute it to a fear of the Other. Others suggest that specific religious and political doctrines seize upon anti-emotism to further their own specific agendas. But mostly it's because emo kids write into advice columns and ask questions like "why does everyone hate emo kids?" Ask a question like that, and you've pretty much already answered it, you skinny t-shirt-wearing nancy.
-ATF

For the specific "Ask the Fish" see here: http://www.alltooflat.com/serious/ask/
Main site is: http://www.alltooflat.com/

If you now think that I'm perhaps too odd for you to be my friend, that's okay too. I'm busy laughing myself silly anyway.

Quote-worthy

From C (on Friday, actually, but I just now remembered it):

"Do you often find yourself thinking that a monkey could do your job? But then do you also think, 'if a monkey could do it, why do I mess it up so much?'"

So true.

Puh-lease

Does anyone else think it's ridiculous that G. Gordon Liddy is criticizing the man who came out as "Deep Throat" for being unethical? Um, YOU ENGINEERED THE WATERGATE BREAK-IN. YOU ARE THE DEFINITION OF UNETHICAL AND CORRUPT FOR AN ENTIRE GENERATION.

Whew, I feel a little better.

Oh, and let's not forget that Pat Buchanan said the whole thing started because they were a bunch of Nixon-haters. The whole reason behind the break-in was (I thought) that Nixon was completely paranoid, and apparently it was catching. "Oh no, it's not that we did things that were completely illegal...no, no, no, they just didn't like us." Yeah, that's the ticket.

Reality TV

I kind of hate reality television. Not only does it leave me with a sort of icky feeling, but it's really just not even all that interesting.

Until "Supernanny." I think it's releasing all those pent up frustrations within me, the ones that I had to bury when watching other people's horrible children for money. Most of the kids I watched were actually pretty good, but there were enough of the bratty ones to be memorable. And on "Supernanny" you watch kids throwing fits and being disciplined. I can't tear myself away from it.

Just now I was browsing at gap.com - not that I have any money to buy anything, but a girl's gotta know what's out there. So I choose accessories and glance through the usuals...hats, scarves, belts, bags, shoes...dog accessories...um, what?

Direct from Our Nation's Capital

I love long weekends. Not only do you get the extra day of weekend, but you get to work a shorter week. Good stuff all around.

You might think that spending this holiday in DC would motivate me to get out there and see some parades and do some generally patriotic activities, but you would be wrong. I barely even left my house, although I did sit on the back porch and read for a while. I was so zonked after the last few weekends of flurrying activities that I relished the chance to just laze around. So in celebration of this holiday, I chose the following activities:

Saw "The Interpreter" with C. Good movie, very interesting plot. No interpreter I have ever worked with looks like Nicole Kidman though. Just so you know.

Grilled burgers with the roommates. Yum...we have a new grill.

Shopped at the mall with Adrianne. Now I have a new sweater that I won't be able to wear until October, but it was really cheap.

Read The Alchemist. Pretty decent little read there, I recommend it. Although "devoured" might be a better verb to use. I have this problem in that when I read things that interest me, I fly through them and sometimes miss details in my quest to know what happens. I know that I ought to savour and ponder and all those things, but it's not really possible for me to do it on the first round. I'll reread it some other lazy weekend and catch all the small but interesting tidbits I missed.

Watched "Anchorman". Bit of a let-down, not as funny as I was led to believe.

Went into town for church (and may have found a winner, yay!). Counted at least 800 fanny packs worn by people either with American flag, various tourist trap, or matching t-shirts. Thus cementing my resolve to not venture anywhere near downtown.

Happy Long Weekend!

Office Update

Seems that the love of Bonnie Tyler's "Total Eclipse of the Heart" spans the generations throughout my office.

And I need you now tonight,
And I need you more than ever...
Once upon a time, I was falling in love
Now I'm only falling apart
There's nothing I can do
A total eclipse of the heart

This song is better when sung with dramatic hand movements and your eyes closed, that evokes the proper teen angst.

****

Also, from the IT guy to E, since her boss's use of the email high priority exclamation point has gotten out of hand:

“That is totally like the boy who cried wolf. He abuses the exclamation point. I should send out an email asking people to refrain from using the exclamation point. I could make something up like it puts to much strain on the server or something.”

He really should, it's not like they would ever figure out he was lying. Turning on the computer itself is sometimes very hard for some of them.

The Wedding Nazi

Every wedding seems to have that person who is in charge of it. Whether it's the mother of the bride or the bride herself or someone they have hired to make sure things run smoothly, there is always someone to order the wedding party around. At my cousin's wedding, it was the church coordinator that we fondly referred to as the Wedding Nazi.

First, there are the hand signals. This was HOURS of merriment at her expense, because there were all sorts of hand signals to tell us when to go, when to stop, when to turn, you get the point. Trouble was that in all of the hours of rehearsing, we only briefly ever went over what the hand signals themselves actually meant. The wedding also took place in a freakin' huge church and she stood at the very back, giving us these weird motions that we were supposed to decipher. As Brad, a groomsman, put it: "What? Steal third??"

There was also no fun to be had, at least not if she could help it. Frankly, I think one of the only redeeming things about having to buy a dress (or rent a tux, as the case may be) and stand for hours and run around like a crazy person and all of the other things that come with being in the wedding party is the fact that the other people in the group are your age and are pretty fun. So you can cut up and play around like the goofy folks you are. We were informed that when recessing we ought to acknowledge one another - "Don't just grab his arm and start walking!" - so one of the pairs thought maybe a dip was in order. No such luck...we were informed that this was "reception behavior." In the end they settled for a complicated handshake, and received a pretty dirty look for it as we exited. On more than one occasion, we would all be quieted with "BRIDESMAIDS!" And then we would all snicker like fourth-graders caught whispering in class.

My favorite moment though was when I, with my 59-year-old Uncle Bob, got in trouble for opening the door from where we were waiting to go into the lobby to listen to the trumpet player. She caught our eyes, hers narrowed to show her displeasure, and she gave a dramatic swoop of the hands together to let us know that the door ought to BE CLOSED. We laughed a lot, but quietly so as not to bring down further wrath.

Oh, how I laughed

I went to see my ex-ballet teacher while at home...I took lessons from her for almost 9 years, and was her assistant through most of high school, so we're pretty close. It was kind of bittersweet really, because she's closing her studio and moving. It's all very understandable, being that the landlord is a jerk and she's tired of dealing with the horrible parents ("why isn't my daughter up in the front?"), but it still sort of saddens me that this very important place in my childhood will be no more after July 1st. Now it's this great loft in an old building, with a floor and a barre and a wall of mirrors, and tons of whacky decorations and leftover props from shows. There are class photos from every single recital, meaning that there is an entire wall covered in roughly 100 pictures. After July 1st it will probably be a quilting barn or some other sort of crap place that the WASPs in my town seem to love so dearly.

But that's not the funny part. She always tries to fix me up with her son when we mention my love life (or lack thereof)...even though he lives in Atlanta and we appear to have virtually nothing in common. He works on computers doing something with Unix, and that's the funny part. When he tried to explain to his mother the ballet instructor what exactly he did with Unix, she told him, "but honey, I'm confused...aren't those the Egyptian men with no balls?"

You know what makes me happy?

Random phone calls from people I haven't talked to in ages, that's what.

I was robbed, I tell you, ROBBED!

I was actually though. It's going to take me a bit to update everything, but here's the first in a series of what I've done with myself over the last week and a half or so.

So Sarah and I came into DC to meet up with work friends for brunch at the best-est brunch place, Kramerbooks, and drove in the rental car because trains on Sunday run about every 45 minutes. I locked it up, and Sarah helped me parallel park the thing because it was long. This is important to know for a later part of the story. Sarah stood right behind the car and watched me pull it into place.

Upon returning from the restaurant, full of yummy brunch goodness, we notice that her door is slightly ajar. We had come back with the friends to show off my RED bridesmaid dress, which we found crumpled in the floor. Thinking it was odd, but we had perhaps knocked it off when getting jackets out or something, we chatted some more and then got in to drive away. We then notice that the CD's I had (all five of them) were missing. Some other things too. Someone had broken into our rental car and robbed us!

Here's the funny part. They got almost nothing. We didn't have really anything of value in the car at all. For all their effort, the total take was as follows: five CDs, all replaceable; Sarah's makeup bag full of half-used makeup; a $20 point-and-shoot camera; and a homemade first aid kit, also Sarah's. So basically if they get $25 for the CD's they will be lucky, because no one wants Sarah's used makeup, except maybe Sarah.

We thought maybe it was a drag queen that robbed us, because the area is known for its queens, and Sarah did have some very nice Tweezerman tweezers in her makeup bag, but then she rightly pointed out that a queen would have taken the dress as well. What self-respecting drag queen would leave a red satin with silver beading floor length dress behind?

The Whore Lived Like a German

I'm getting all sorts of random spam in my work email...apparently it's some sort of worm or something like it (I'm so high tech) that sends people loads of emails with links. Most of the subjects are in German, but my favorite subject is the one above. What does that even mean? It's also the only one I can read, as my German consists of : "auf wiedesen" (goodbye), "Hauptbanhoff" (main train station), and "Frohe Wienachten" (Merry Christmas). Most of those are probably spelled wrong too. So weird, but now I have to check my email periodically despite being in Texas and not at work so that I won't have to deal with 800 crap German emails when I get back.

Some thoughts about "Vertigo" in Philly

These are just tidbits that seem silly to include in the overall gushing:

-The couple in front of us made out for the ENTIRE SHOW. Not just pecks and smooches, no no no, full-on open-mouth kissing non-stop for two hours. TWO HOURS. I would have overlooked some smooching on the slow songs...but who makes out to "Beautiful Day"? What a complete and total waste of two tickets. They had to have spent at least $200 (but then the guy looked a bit of a schmuck, so he probably paid way more than that to impress the girl...), and for their $200 (or more) they spent the entire show with their tongues down each other's throats. They should have just bought the "Best of" cd's and stayed at home on the couch.

-A woman behind us had made her own concert shirt. No need to reread, you read it right the first time. Her own shirt. With little red stripes, sort of like the ones on the cd, and a little suitcase with a heart, like the last tour, and some wobbly writing in WHITE PUFF PAINT. PUFF PAINT. I just had to say it twice, it's so funny.

-At the very end, the woman behind me started going berserk and screaming about her undying love for Bono. I had to cover my ears...the same ears that had been subjected to massive sounds of rock 'n' roll without any hint of hurting. I wanted to let her know that while he is quite lovely and all of us love him a little bit too, he is also married and happily so from all accounts and really she was just embarassing herself. Because he sure didn't hear her, nope, just me. Me and the twenty people around her, cringing and covering our ears. She also yelled really loudly after the lights came up: "Where was 'With or Without You' ?!" And I told her it was at the "Elevation Tour." See how bitchy I can be when annoyed?

The first attempt at a description

This might be a bit tedious if you're not a U2 fan or very familiar with their music. Sorry...but we should talk, because you're really missing out.

I'm at a bit of a loss to even start this one.

As some of you may know, I went to the U2 "Vertigo" tour last Saturday. U2 is pretty much my favorite band ever (but then why wouldn't they be, because they are arguably the greatest rock band ever!) and I have been planning this for umm...at least seven months. Why seven months? Because the CD, "How to Dismantle An Atomic Bomb", was released in November, that's why. You would think that after seven months of planning and listening and coordinating in conjunction with those 15 agonizing minutes on Ticketmaster* that I would have over-hyped this show. That my expectations would far exceed actual events. But you would be wrong.

I really can't even describe it very well, and I'm sad to not do the show the justice it deserves. Sarah and I listened to several U2 cd's on the way there, including the HTDAAB one, and we still hadn't worn ourselves out on the music by a long shot. Actually we listened to them on the drive home too, but I'm getting ahead of myself. Did I mention that we also drove to Philadelphia from DC, and that Sarah flew out from Texas? This is the level of excitement that preceeded the show.

The sets are spectacular. There is glitter - yes, glitter. Only U2 can rock glitter. "Everyone, everyone" singing along to every song. Not just along mind you, but filling in where we were supposed to, like we were the back up singers. For instance, on "Vertigo":
Bono: "Hello, hello" (mike to audience)
Audience: "Hola!"
Bono: "I'm at a place called Vertigo..."
And the beginning of "Elevation" which is normally quite rockin', but they did it slow...with no instrumentals really, just their voices and ours for the first few passes at the first verse, and then the guitars kicked in. Still giving me a goofy grin to think about it, even a few days later.

They also played some old and previously mentioned favorites of mine, well blended with newer songs. U2 has some ridiculous number of albums out, I think 14 was the number I read the other day, and while all of the songs are good, the number of songs that are truly remarkable is still too many to put into one show. I sang along at the top of my lungs, jumped around like an idiot, swapped stories with the drunk guy next to me, bonded with U2 fans, the list goes on and on. One thing I did love about the crowd was that almost 2/3 of the audience was wearing some form of a U2 shirt. I would say it was about 50/50 as to which part of that bunch was wearing an older shirt and which part was wearing the shirt that they just bought five minutes before. We were all THAT EXCITED. Sarah and I fell into the latter category, prompted not only by extreme excitement but also by the Philly cheesesteak juice we got all over ourselves while trying to eat in the car.

Okay, this is clearly going to have to be a multiple part post, as it's already on the long side and I've really only gotten started. More coming soon...

*I would just like to take this moment to say that ticket brokers, especially those that buy up loads of tickets using advanced technology systems and then sell them for $1500 a piece to desperate fans, they all deserve their own special corner of hell.

Initials

Today at my meeting, the interpreter had a monogrammed "VF" on his shirt. But not on the pocket or anything, they were down on the middle, right to the left of his belly.

How many of us are there?

Today I got a really funny email today at my hotmail account. I have an address with my full name, for things like my resume and stuff. Apparently there are few girls out there with the same first and last name as me. I think most of them live in New Zealand, at least according to Google, and one organizes protests all over the northeast U.S. for something to do with the Zapatistas in Mexico. But back to today:

Hi Rachel,

I have sent Sarah an email about the rodeos this weekend. But you should contact her as well.

Her name is Sarah B and her email is: notgoingtoputouttherealaddress@someschool.ca

Take care,
Mel

Now, I don't know a Mel, but I am from a place where there are lots of rodeos and lots of Sarahs. So I wracked my brain, but nothing came up. Also, I don't know anyone from Canada and apparently that's where this Sarah is from. I wrote back and wished them well at the rodeo, but let them know that their Rachel was out of this loop.

I've also gotten follow-ups to other people's job interviews...I also wrote these people back to let them know, because how horrible would it be to not hear from a job because they sent it to the wrong Rachel? Wait a minute...maybe this explains some of MY non-responses. Hmm.

Today, a distinguished (sharp suit, has graying well-trimmed beard) middle aged man that works in the upper levels of my company pulled out a ham sandwich and two juice boxes for lunch. How cute is that?

I'm going to gush for just a moment

My grandparents are all very lovely, wonderful people. In calling both of my grandmothers (in honor of Mother's Day, of course) I also spoke to my grandfather.

My mom's mom, Dedo. Real name May Delle, I think "Dedo" was the closest my older cousin could come to the real thing. She is about as Southern as they come, often telling me that things are tacky, or even worse, tacky tacky. This could be either about something I'm wearing or displaying bad behavior. It is an excellent, genteel catch-all phrase. In her time, she was an exceptional cook and entertainer. I still call and ask her for recipes, and my other grandmother defers to Dedo's opinion anytime I ask either of them for a recipe (i.e. "Well, this is how I would make fried chicken, but you really ought to call May Delle"). She always wants to know when I'm coming to visit next, even though we never do much once I get there. I wish I could go more often.

My dad's mom, Grandmother. Also known as Mee-Maw to some of the other cousins, I was grammatically and orally gifted as a child (aka non-stop talker) and I preferred this rather formal way of addressing her. Clearly it was the best choice, as almost all of my siblings and cousins refer to her this way as well. She has a soft Southern accent, and always asks about Dedo, because they are friends and she is Grandmother's "favorite of the in-laws." She always wants to know if I'm happy, especially since I'm in a new place, and if I'm making friends. She has never questioned my choices, although they must seem odd to her in comparison with my other cousins' (majored in something practical like business or education, got married right out of school). She more than anyone is who I would like to be when I grow up. I want to name a daughter after her some day...I would be so very grateful if she was around to meet her.

And last but most certainly not least, my dad's dad, Grandaddy. He got his name the same way as above (he was formerly known as Dano), and he is the only grandfather (by blood anyway) that I have had. He gave me a nickname, Ellie, because my middle name is Elise. He's really the only person who calls me that, but even in his email address book my first name is saved that way. He is the most gentle, caring man, and you might never know it because he isn't much of a talker. Only in the last few years has he shared insights about his past, as storytelling was always Grandmother's forte. He would tease us so much when we were young, but loved us so openly and quietly as well. As we said our goodbyes, he told me "see you next week, sugar." He's still the best with nicknames that make me feel all warm and squishy inside.

And barbecue aside, the second two paragraphs are the real reasons I'm looking forward to this wedding.

Saturday Night Recap

On Saturday, I went to see a friend's band play with some girls from work. The description of the venue was quite intriguing - the party had been entitled "Make-Out Party #7" and it was going be held at what appeared to be some dive called The Diver City House. Now this so-called venue was maybe eight blocks from where I live, and I had never seen anything remotely resembling a lounge or a bar in my area. This should have been a sign.

After a makeshift dinner, we all piled into EP's car and headed down the road, looking for this House. While driving in circles looking for our place, we kept passing by some people on a porch that were clearly having some sort of house party, but as we were headed to a club of sorts, this was not where we were going. Or so we thought. We only discovered that this was in fact our stop when EP recognized our friend the drummer's car parked outside.

We had come prepared with mixed CD's, as the instructions had informed us that admission was $6, but would be reduced to $4 with said CD. This was another reason we were sure it wasn't our party...who would charge admission to their own house? But then these people had also already named their house, so we really shouldn't have been surprised. The mixed CD (or tape, but who actually has tapes these days?) would be exchanged at a swap to take place after one of the sets, which we eventually forgot about and missed, but it worked out in the end as C and EP wanted to keep their own CD's anyway.

But back to the venue: this freakin' huge house had a full basement lined with silver insulation and a band area set up in the corner. They were also serving cupcakes in the kitchen, and there were generally people lounging around all over the place, some playing guitars or other instruments. So we chilled on a futon next to the treadmill and watched our friend's band (review: excellent musicianship and songs, bad lead singer). They even had party t-shirts printed up that some of the bands were wearing. I know all of you are curious, but no actual making out took place, at least none that involved the people I came with.

I realize this story is not so much dramatic or perhaps even all that interesting. It was just so surreal that I wanted to document it.

In other news, a girl I went to college with (we graduated in 2002) was only just exposed to beer pong this weekend. I am amazed by this. Although the rest of the story sounds pretty horrible (and makes the party I attended look downright pretentious), I can't believe she was first exposed to the game three years post-graduation.

And isn't it ironic (dontcha think)?

Funny how "happy hour" really ought to be called "bitch and moan about our jobs hour."

riddle

How many girls does it take to find the source of the rotting-stink smell in their townhouse?

One (Rachel) to examine and smell everything she could think of that might be rotting, including the plants, the fruit, the trash, the fridge, the dishwasher, and various areas in the basement.
+
One (Adrianne) to walk around outside the house to see if any small rodents have died nearby.
+
One (Gina) to find the sack of raw chicken that has been defrosting on top of the fridge since Saturday afternoon. Pee-yew.

What we need here is a good rant

It's been awhile. So really, I will just rant for a few. Okay? Right.
Of course the danger in this is that I will likely be caught doing something I have griped about. Eh, I never claimed to be perfect (but I can guarantee I will never be guilty of #1)

(Some of) Rachel's Pet Peeve's:

-Not spelling things out when you write emails or similar...i.e. "u" instead of you. That's just lazy and it looks ugly.

-People that I haven't talked to in just about forever asking me if I'm dating someone in the first five minutes of conversation. It's not like you actually care, you just want to know.

-Saran wrap. Okay, I know that pet peeves are probably more related to verbs than nouns, but seriously, I hate that stuff. It always ends up in a big wad, only partially covering the opening that I want it to cover.

-Certain people that I may or may not work with that call me up just to whine. Um, there's a reason I never answer the phone when you call...we have Caller ID.

-Slightly dirty old men who give profuse compliments. It's just icky and none of us are fooled.

-Do things, listen to things, read things, etc. because you think they are "cool." Now I know I use that word myself from time to time, but I don't really buy into the ideas of "cool" and "uncool". Junior high was rough enough to have to deal with it yet again in my twenties.

I want to meet you

I love that the click-click-clickity-clicking through tons of web pages a day sometimes reveals such gems as this.

I have no idea who he is, but I already am impressed by his coolness. Or lack thereof, thus in the end making him cool. Make any sense? Yeah, I didn't think so.

guest post through paraphrase

T, coming back from a group lunch with international visitors:
"Lunch was good, although I had some serving spoon issues."

All: ??

T: "Well, it was family style, and the visitors, after they had served themselves, would lick the spoons and stick them back into the dishes."

All: !!

T: "Yeah, I didn't go back for seconds."

Broke

It seems to me that there are many levels of being broke. There is the "sort of kind of" broke, where most everyone I know seems to be right about now, where you can sort of afford to go out to eat every now and then, and can kind of buy things but not without a small smidgen of guilt that you could probably do without that new whatever and save the money.

Then there is the sad but funny broke. Eb and I were laughing about this the other weekend, in one of those silly right-before-you-fall asleep conversations. This is where I was two summers ago, wrapping up graduate school in Europe. I worked as a receptionist in a hotel for 5 pounds an hour, and my friend Sarah came to visit and I pretty much spent everything I had earned traveling around with her. The day she left, I quite literally had maybe 200 pounds (at five pounds an hour, think about the math that it took me to earn even that!) to my name and roughly 165 of it went to pay for the last of my summer housing. So I had to subsist for the next week or so (and get to London and eat there too) on 35 pounds, the equivalent of which is like $55. These are the times when you eat a lot of canned tuna fish, even if you don't like tuna very much. Fortunately I do like tuna, 'cause I ate whole lot. Tuna and spaghetti and ramen noodles. And I think I ate about 5 meals at McDonalds while in London for four days, because it may be gross but you can be full for 3 pounds there. My big indulgence was going to see the Lion King on my last day, and I paid 10 pounds to stand in the very, very back of the back balcony for two hours. Ebony had a similar summer in New York the following year, which included sleeping on an air mattress and not having air conditioning. She ate a lot of canned tuna too.

And then there's the stupid broke, like when she and Ginger came to my house in late September and we didn't have hot water or heat (there was a cold spell) or the ability to cook anything, because I didn't realize that you have to change over the gas account and they cut ours off.

I know that I've left off the for real broke, as in your electricity has been cut off or something similar. I just haven't personally had to experience that yet...I'm hopeful that I never will.

Tangent

So a friend recently introduced me to xanga. This is a whole other, somewhat darker (for me anyway) side to the blogging world. Whereas many people I read have blogs they read listed off to the side (I would but don't know how to do this...it involves some sort of html stuff that I am completely clueless about), these sites have people listing loads of friends. And all of these friends, mostly they write semi-diary entries about their lives. Which I guess I do too, to a certain extent, but sometimes they get really personal. Or detailed. Or whatever. But basically you can just click on one of their names from the side, and then click on one of their friend's names, and so on and so forth. After about 30 minutes you could be reading the break-up story of someone about 7 degrees of separation from you.

Does anyone really need a play-by-play of your entire day? I don't really care what you ate, and I find it difficult to believe that your friends care either. I find the relationship stories (where they describe their undying love and devotion to the significant other, especially with shout-outs along the lines of "I love you hunny!" or similar) to be particularly awful. And yet, like a train wreck, I can't. look. away.

Speaking of the above shout-out example, you should always be wary of doing such things. People are bound to mock you, and truly, you deserve it. Or perhaps, there might be someone, someone who might have been a suitemate of mine in college, and this someone might write "I love my honey!!!" as her screensaver, and the other, annoyed suitemates might change it to "I love my hiney!!!" and let it scroll along for days before that someone noticed. I'm just sayin', it might happen.

Down-home Dinner (the upcoming wedding, part one)

Last night, I got an invitation to the rehearsal dinner for my cousin's wedding this May. In typical Texas fashion, this rehearsal dinner is going to feature massive amounts of barbecue and fried catfish. Some thoughts:

I'm already so excited I can hardly stand it. The invitation was printed on paper with a red bandana pattern, so obviously it's already off to a good start.

As the *ahem* maid of honor, I wonder if I have to make a toast or something amongst the platters of ribs? I will definitely have to check my teeth first.

It's a good thing that the skirt of my bridesmaid dress has this convenient old-lady elastic waistband...expandable for the stuffing that will most certainly occur the night before.

To be continued...

no more work!

It is perhaps lame of me to bring it up again, but here at this work place, when people are leaving, they serve everyone alcohol. In the case of today's departure (sniff...Faraz the training budding, he is leaving for greener pastures), we went to a semi-Mexican restaurant for food...and the company bought the drinks. The margaritas, more specifically.

1 pitcher of frozen margarita divided by 3 girls = 1 completely unproductive afternoon for me.

the All Staff meeting

That, my friends, was just an hour and a half of my life that I will NEVER GET BACK.

As C put it (can you tell who my favorite work friends are?), "It's like we all went to see 'Glitter' or something."

My weekend in the Big Apple*

*Some alternate title ideas included:
"Babysitting for Friends: the Real Birth Control"
"Screaming Children and Bus Trips: Oh the Horror"

So as you can see from the above, my weekend was in many ways defined by the children I was around. My best friend from high school has a one-year old (which still completely weirds me out) and we spent a lot of time watching him while she went to rehearsals, performances, etc. Her son, whose real name is Tymin but I like to shorten to Ty, is really, really well behaved and good natured. Even still, just watching him for a few hours pretty much wore me out. New York is not exactly friendly to kids in strollers. Especially kids who are just starting to be mobile and would really much rather be crawling around on the ground, even if that ground is a filthy NY sidewalk. And the mama, she just seems tired all the time. Much as I do eventually want to have children some day, the fact that that day seems very far away at this moment is more than okay with me.

I tell Misty (the mama) all the time that I still cannot believe she has a child. Maybe it's because I was always the one doing the babysitting to earn extra money, while she never even changed a diaper until it was her son's. Or maybe it's just that this girl that I used to have sleepovers with and lot of silly, stupid fun could really be doing so very, very differently with her life than mine. I have another friend from high school that has a baby, but she's the type that was always meant to have one by the ripe old age of 24 (at least in my head) so it's less weird. I should say though that watching Misty with her child is (for lack of a better word) beautiful. She loves the mess out of that kid. And of all of the things that I worry about that kids need, and the awesome responsibility that those needs entail, I feel at least she's got the most important part of it down.

Oh, and as for the bus: on my four hour bus ride home, there was this horrid three-year old who threw SHRIEKING fits roughly every 30 minutes. And then did I long for my sweet but mobile one-year old...

Lunchtime conversation

For E, who told me I should put this on my blog.

Background: A few weeks ago at work we had a sort of floor get-together where wine was served. This is not unusual at my job--birthdays or going-away parties are often marked with wine or champagne. Having grown up in a town where drinking alcohol in public was the moral equivalent of shooting heroin, I am still adjusting to this.

E: "We should really do that again, I think it was good for bonding."

R: "What do you suppose their policies on liquor are? I mean, wine is okay, but could we get away with say...tequila?"

C: "Maybe we could make sangria, people tend to forget that there's other things besides wine and fruit in that. What's a good excuse for sangria?"

R: "Ooo! Cinco de Mayo!"

E: "Great idea. When's Cinco de Mayo?"

(silence...and staring)

E: "Er...nevermind. I can't believe I just said that."

Worst poker face EVER

Someone informed me today after particularly long and mostly uninteresting staff meeting that they love to watch my reactions to things that are said. I realize that I am a bit of an expressive person, at least in that my emotions or thoughts can be very evident on my face. But this is not necessarily the best thing considering that I sat across from a VP and the CFO at said meeting. Oops. This has also happened before: in grad school, a particularly obnoxious classmate complained to someone we each hung out with (separately, I might add) that I always made really horrible faces when he was talking. I certainly didn't mean to do this, but then the guy was a complete idiot and I feel no shame in expressing my feelings, even as I did it unintentionally. Another time I was at a coffee shop watching a friend perform, and part of the show was this sort of awkward story with music thing. I was apparently so uncomfortable with the whole thing that a friend leaned over to ask if it was "really that bad." Clearly this is a sign that I should never try my luck at Texas Hold 'Em.

Today has been a "Running to Stand Still" sort of day.

I don't know if Ginger reads this blog at all, but I know she'd understand that, and that at least makes me feel a little better.

A short history of my history

I could not even believe it this morning when I opened the paper and the caption on a photo informed me that it has been 10 years since the bombing in Oklahoma City. I remember sitting in my debate class my sophomore year and watching the footage on the classroom TV (the kind that were bolted up really high on the wall), and it does not feel at all like it was ten years ago.

This got me thinking about the ways I remember very tragic or momentous events in history. I think the earliest one I remember was the Challenger exploding...I was maybe in second grade. Mostly I remember seeing all of the flags lowered to half-mast, and I remember asking my mom why they were like that. Then I have these sort of fuzzy images in my head of seeing footage of the Berlin Wall coming down.

I'm sure there are others I'm glossing over, but memories don't exactly come back chronologically, so there you go. I also remember watching the David Koresh compound burn to the ground...a mere 40 miles or so south of my home. There had been so much media surrounding the ATF agents and such in our area, but I think no one my age really paid any attention until the fire started.

Funny how history is really so personal...I think about my reactions, where I was, etc. more than what happened and why it was significant. I don't know if this was because I was quite young then (not that I'm so old and mature now!) or because in the end all of the stories are about how they affected you and those around you. I wonder what will be personally significant to me ten years from now? I can already think of a few, we'll see if they pan out.

Discovery

Dad and I found a killer Italian restaurant last night. It was quite possibly the best Italian food I've had since I've been in Italy, but I liked it even more for other reasons. It was the sort of small, family run place where everyone knows everyone else, even the customers. And it was obvious that we were the new people, but they were all wonderfully friendly and welcoming. You could watch the chef (who incidentally used to have a four-star restaurant in downtown DC) behind the counter as he whipped up the magic. The permanent menu had roughly five choices, but the seasonal specials numbered in the double digits. They served excellent dishes and wine and the price was more than right.

And no I will not tell you the name. I refuse to give away such secrets on the internet, but if you come visit me I will take you there. You will love it, I promise.

Aficionados

At lunch today (in a beautiful garden outside in the sunshine) a workmate and I were discussing the finer points of enjoying ice cream. This discussion came about because I have plans to leave in approximately 39 minutes for a "fresh air" break that will involve a trip to a nearby ice cream shop. This work friend, he was reminiscing about buttermilk ice cream that he had tried in Wisconsin, and my mouth started watering at the thought of some Amy's Mexican vanilla from Austin. We agreed that ice cream in a cone that you buy from a store is immeasurably better than ice cream from a carton that remains in your freezer for a while, although neither of us know why this is. And it also should go without saying that ice cream in a cone is much better than ice cream in a cup. Everyone knows that.

Motivation

I am not a morning person, and as such I rarely get to work before 9 or even 9:30 some days. My bus ride to work generally consists of avoiding eye contact with the crazy people so as not to set anyone off.

However, on this particular morning, I got to work early so I could leave early to meet my dad at the airport. And if you get on the bus at 8 instead of 9, there are all of these cute little grade-school age children riding the bus with their older siblings, going to class. And they sit next to you and ask you questions, especially if you have a cool green pen, which is quite a novelty to a second-grader. (Eh, who I am kidding? It's a novelty to me too, that's why I use it).

Maybe this will motivate me to get up a little earlier...something I've been meaning to try for a while now. Every morning would get off to a better start if I could have a good conversation about the use of pens and pencils with a eight-year old.

U2 pretty much rocks my face off. Just thought I'd share.

Cooking with Rachel

Perhaps with the allergy season upon us, you need a little something to clear up those sinuses. Or maybe you've secretly harbored dreams of being able to breathe fire. In either case, might I recommend a Thai green curry recipe.

Yowza. And so tasty.

Things that might make me wary of you

**This may come off as a rant, but it's really meant to be more contemplative**

Overuse exclamation points (i.e. !!!!!!!) for very small things. If you're going to pretend to be all excited about something insignificant, what will you do when something really monumental happens?

Tell me how smart you are, or ask me how smart I am. Especially if this involves some sort of quantitative number, like a GRE score. Seriously, are we in grade school? That is none of your business and you should know that the number is a reflection of nothing. Some of the smartest people I know do not do so well on standardized tests.

Not look at my face when I am having a conversation with you. I'm particularly disturbed when you always seem to be looking behind or around me, as if you are waiting for someone or something more important to come along.

Talk about your pets as though they are your children.

Be one of those girls that is always "not that hungry." Food is good, you should eat it.

Be really, really into video games in addition to being in your twenties (or thirties).