Snake Nation

2008-11-06T14:29:00.001-08:00

Ok, so I know they won't admit it for a while, but a little change might not be such a bad thing.

happy election day

2008-11-04T07:24:00.000-08:00

Hopefully by this evening two things will be settled: 1. Obama will be the next President of the United States and 2. I'll stop receiving annoying political messages from virtual strangers via Facebook.

But there is one less obvious quandary left dangling down south. I saw an interesting article this morning about a clearly overlooked group of the voting population: the nudists. Apparently folks at the Caliente Resort and Spa in Florida would like to vote naked. For being naked and all, this group seems a little high-maintenance. They have requested their own polling station be erected (pun intended) at their resort so that they may get their vote on in the buff. The have also scoffed at the suggestion that they vote absentee. "It's about freedom," a member insisted. "We take our civic duty seriously and nudism is a very serious part of our lifestyle." So, two questions remain today: who will win the election and what ever happened with Florida's nude vote. Stay tuned.

2008-10-23T10:02:00.000-07:00

My job is sort of a miserable experience these days, as I know it is for many people. For me it's not so much if bad news will come, but if it will come before or after lunch. Things can only get better though, right? The ridiculous wig I won on eBay for my Halloween costume did arrive in the mail yesterday, so that's pretty good.

For now, here's something else pretty good from David Sedaris.

sometimes older is better

2008-10-16T07:21:00.000-07:00

Well friends, last night's debate pretty much sucked liked the first two in that watching it left me tired, angry and a little drunk. Basically it went down like this: McCain attacked Obama with something off-base and a little crazy, Obama shot it down in one or two sentences, McCain gnarled his teeth and scribbled out his frustration on his angry little notepad. Rinse and repeat. I really don't think John McCain's a totally bad guy, and I frankly felt a little sorry for him. I think his campaign has gotten so far out of his control, he's almost a bystander at this point.

Anyway, onto more important things. The finale of Project Runway was also last night, so I was flipping back and forth between the debate and Bravo. Spoiler alert: Leann won and I was thrilled. Obama and Leann - two cool heads, finding themselves in the midst of chaos, kept their focus and came out on top! Let's just hope this winning streak makes its way to November 4.

Before all of that, though, I had to hang around the museum for a dinner honoring some of our oldest donors - I counted two walkers and one wheelchair at my table. They are one of my favorite groups to be around, however, because I am always surprised by some of the things they will say. The highlight of the night was when the woman seated next to me asked if I would be watching the Project Runway finale later. I told her I would indeed and she said that she was leaving dinner early so that her driver could get her home in time. She was rooting for Kenley. I then asked if she was going to try to see any of the debate and she said no, she hates them both and she'll be dead soon anyway. The old ladies are always the wisest. God bless America.

sometimes hate is pretty funny

2008-10-14T08:50:00.000-07:00

Sure, I don't particularly care for all the hate-mongering, blatant racism, lying and the use/abuse of religion as a campaign battle cry - but you have to hand it to those hard-core Palin/McCain supporters (she is basically top of the ticket now, right?) - they come up with the best bumper stickers.

I knew my people would come through

2008-10-09T11:31:00.001-07:00

Sexy Sarah hasn't won them all. http://news.yahoo.com/s/afp/20081009/ts_afp/usvoteobamarednecks_081009162329

can't stop watching this

2008-10-01T08:56:00.000-07:00

screw you, Suze Orman

2008-09-30T10:02:00.000-07:00

Suze Orman, who I generally like and whose advice I think we could all use, said on TV last night that in these tumultuous economic times we should cut out all frivolous things - specifically she mentioned Halloween decorations, costumes, parties and the like.

Is she going to cancel Christmas, too? I need Halloween. I need stupid screaming skulls and glowing pumpkins and people well into their 30's wearing embarrassing costumes.

Screw you, Suze Orman.

while I was away from my desk, continued

2008-09-29T08:40:00.001-07:00

As I started to share a few days ago, my car was stolen. On a hot, sweaty September night a couple of weeks ago, my car was taken from the parking lot of my condo building; the gated, security guarded parking lot of my condo; the overly-lit, gated, security guarded parking lot of my condo. To make this scenario all the more ridiculous, my car, in case you didn't know, was a 1995 Honda Civic with a dent in the side, a sagging front bumper and at least one gross Starbucks cup covered in lipstick in the cup holder. It was parked between a sexy little convertible BMW and a brand new Prius.

I went out to leave for work the next morning and it just wasn't there. Just an empty space where I had left it the night before. I stood there a minute, let it all soak in, and called 911. After calling I was approached by two other sad-sacks who had found their cars not stolen, but vandalized. I told them my car had been stolen and that the police were on the way. One of them asked me what kind of car I had, I told her, and she said, "Now that's really weird. Why would they steal that?"

The police arrived quickly to file a report. The officer explained to me that 1995 Honda Civics are one of the most stolen cars for three reasons - 1. they are easy to break into, 2. the parts are sold at top dollar, and 3. Mexicans like to turn them into tricked out clown cars like this:

I quickly decided that if didn't get my car back, I was hoping for the third fate. I sort of liked the idea of seeing a hot pink low-rider on Buford Highway and wondering if maybe it was my car living an exciting second life in the latino fast lane.

Sadly, la vida loca was not in the cards for my Honda. Its dignity stripped, along with its tires, my car was found abandoned in a Dekalb county ditch with no bumpers, its headlights dangling from their wires like a pair of gouged eyeballs. The city towed it to its final junk yard resting place. And just to have them take the car off my hands, I had to go and pay a fee of $125 to a large, humorless black woman perched behind bullet proof glass overlooking the bleak sea of car skeletons - a cruel way to have to say goodbye to my loyal chariot of 13 years.

Stress ensued in the coming days as I became unreasonably panicked at the prospect of buying a new car - something that happens when you keep the same car you drove in high school until you're 31. Fortunately it all worked out thanks in part to the level head of J and the courteous assistance of Associated Credit Union. I'm now the proud owner of a beautiful Mazda 6. It feels especially fancy to me - again, I was accustomed to driving a really old car - so I'm tooling around town at an admittedly slower pace, (ok, like an 80 year-old grammy), am considering some type of plastic sheeting to protect the entire interior from stains, and feel a little sad every time I see an old Civic on the road - painted day-glow green, or maybe purple, with a really tall spoiler, giant tires with super shiny rims, and an ever-so-subtle hint of glitter shimmer in the paint.

while I was away from my desk

2008-09-24T07:41:00.000-07:00

Sorely overdue for a post and I'm really going to do it, just not now. A lot has happened: my car was stolen, a shiny new one was purchased, the U.S. economy took a swift ride down the can and Sarah Palin met some exotic foreign folks for the first time in NYC! So much to discuss, and I will post soon.

Until then, this bit of magic courtesy of my dad.

presidential grill, part II

2008-06-04T07:51:00.001-07:00

History was made last night, and regardless of your personal political views, it's something to sit up and take notice of. Maybe even be pretty excited about.

Now this is a presidential grill.

presidential grill

2008-05-27T14:38:00.000-07:00

John McCain is a lot of things - some not so great, some not so bad. But have you seen his teeth? I'm just sayin'.

did I mention that I hate American Idol?

2008-05-20T08:00:00.000-07:00

There are many reasons why. Here are two pretty good ones.

Diamond Dave: still the (slightly gay) king of crazy

2008-05-12T10:05:00.000-07:00

Last night my sister and I went to the Van Halen show here in Atlanta. It was at the Gwinnett Center Arena, which if you're not familiar with Atlanta and its environs, is located in an unsavory sea of strip malls, chain bars (The Loafing Leprechaun...it was as bad as it sounds) and at least one Holiday Inn. The arena itself, however, was a pretty good venue; certainly the cleanest place I've ever seen a big show. Good sound, clean toilets, and a generous pour on the $8 Bud Light served to me in a giant plastic cup. No complaints here.

And after the clean toilets and big Buds, things only got better. Friends, Van Halen puts on a great show. All joking aside, they were so fun - it was truly impressive. Eddie has suffered through tongue cancer, multiple rehab stays and a hip replacement? Really? He looked healthy and spry from where I was sitting. Even his son held his own, the slightly chubby and awkward Wolfie Van Halen on bass. Alex Van Halen actually appeared to have been frozen in time with a face that hasn't really changed since 1989. I even enjoyed the really long drum solo!

And then there was Dave. What can I say - the man looks incredible. And maybe it's always been there and I'm just now seeing it, but there was a little gay vibe. (Maybe it was the hairless, waxed chest and the bedazzled general's outfit? Who can say. But if a reincarnated Liberace was there performing Runnin' with the Devil on stage, it would be only slightly different from what I beheld last night.) As buff and chiseled as ever, he spent most of the evening sporting an open shirt that left the ladies swooning in their seats! Dancing, high-kicking and looking totally cuckoo crazy from start to finish, seeing David Lee Roth live was everything I had hoped it would be. Naturally, Jump ended the show and was made complete with an enormous inflatable microphone/phallus that Dave twirled around with as a cloud of confetti fell from the ceiling.

The rest of the evening's enjoyment came from the crowd - a spirited crew of suburban dads in Dockers, Johnny Van Zant look-a-likes, a handful of lesbians and just enough older gals in short skirts and leather to make any gathering a good time.

(Proud Jacksonville, Florida

native Johnny Van Zant took over for his late brother and personal style inspiration, Ronnie, as the lead singer of Lynyrd Skynyrd in the 1980's. Other Jacksonville fun-facts: 1. Lynyrd Skynyrd, 38 Special

and I all hail from Jacksonville's westside, a storied spot in southern rock history. 2. There are a lot of men that look like this in

Jacksonville and most of them went to my high school.)

After the show, we headed out to the lobby to buy a t-shirt for my brother-in-law, 2040. There were many t-shirts to choose from, all overpriced. But the souvenirs didn't stop at t-shirts. There were Van Halen tote bags (perhaps a perfect gift for that educator in your life - hot for teacher, indeed!), Van Halen bumper stickers and red Van Halen thongs at the reasonable price of only $15 - a true deal. Fortunately, for those of you not at the show, that deal is also here.

We then made our way to the parking lot where we wandered a while before eventually finding our car. You might assume a champagne Mercedes Benz sedan would be easily found in the parking lot of the Gwinnett Center Van Halen show, right? Not so. We were right in line with most of the crowd: there were many Mercedes, BMW's and Lexus in the mix with just a smattering of pick-up trucks and late 80's/early 90's model camaros here and there to keep it real. Van Halen's fan base has grown up, I guess. But that didn't keep them from rocking out - starched golf shirts be damned.

Needless to say, should Van Halen make its way to your town, I suggest you buy a ticket. And maybe a thong.

three times a lady

2008-04-18T09:36:00.000-07:00

Just checking in. I don't have a real post today. I've been too obsessed with reading, watching and listening to the coverage - the CONSTANT coverage - of the FLDS bust up in Texas. Some people want to hear about the economy (apparently there's something wrong with it), some folks want to hear about Barack and Hils and all that jazz. Me? I want to hear about the FLDS - only that. Seriously, this story will never get old to me. Take me on another guided tour of a polygamist house with one of the zombie women, Larry King. Let me hear more about your take on it, Nancy Grace. Even you, Anderson Cooper, let me know what you've got on the story. Bill O'Reilly, I hate you so much, but right now I would also like to get your take on the whole thing.

a friday potpourri

2008-04-04T12:03:00.001-07:00

Taking the lead from today's post on 2040 Worldview (and buckling under the pressure of its author's overwhelming demands that I post something new), this afternoon I will share some equally random thoughts. TGIF!

1. I'm starting to hate everything related to the race for president. The firestorm over Rev. Wright's controversial comments from the pulpit regarding the N-word, Hillary never being called the N-word, and the general fact that rich white people run the United States was ridiculous. While his presentation maybe could have used a little, uh, discretion, did he really say anything that wasn't true? Of all the things she has been called, Hillary hasn't ever been called the N-word. And of course the United States is run by rich white people. Was Obama totally ill-advised and naive if he really thought that his Rev's "direct" approach at the pulpit wasn't going to come up at some point and reflect negatively on his campaign? Absolutely. But I also recall John McCain (and countless other Republicans) hanging out with the now deceased, but eternally hateful Jerry Falwell back in the day in an effort to gain the approval of ultra-conservative evangelicals, and somehow that was alright. (FYI to all the evangelicals out there: John McCain's fortune belongs to his wife, and she got it from selling BEER.) So, yeah, Rev. Wright said some pretty racist things, and Jerry Falwell was a flaming homophobe who said terrible things all the time. I don't fault John McCain for that, nor do I fault Barack Obama for what his friend Reverend Wright said. Plus, I think we all know that the Rev's bit about Bill sticking it to the American people like he stuck it to Monica was hysterical.

2. And speaking of black comedians I enjoy, my favorite part of the Hillary/Bosnia debacle a couple of weeks ago was that Sinbad was a central character in the story. Hillary just made some shit up, and Sinbad called her out on it. Now if we could only find a way to get one of my personal favorites, Bernie Mac, in on the action. Bernie would totally straighten Hillary's ass out!

3. I got engaged a couple of weeks ago. In addition to the well wishes and interest of my friends and family, what I'm really enjoying most are the tips, queries and general thoughts from people I barely know.

Among my favorites, so far:
"Don't waste your money on a wedding cake. They're never good."

"You should take dance lessons so that you'll be a good dancer at your reception."

"I thought you were already married."

4. I just found out that this group is coming to Atlanta in July, and yes, I want to go.

the time of my life

2008-03-06T08:46:00.000-08:00

(Two posts in one week. This probably won't happen again for six months.)
Sad news came this morning when on the Today show it was announced that Patrick Swayze has pancreatic cancer. They say he's undergoing treatment and doing pretty well. Meredith Vierra then made a point of saying, "Well, if you're going to have cancer, pancreatic cancer isn't the one you want." As always, she was waiting in the wings with just the right thing to say.

There are a number of 80's/early 90's films, all of widely varying levels of quality, that if I find are on TV, I get really excited and feel immediately obliged to watch them. And as luck would have it, Patrick Swayze plays a significant role in this list of hits. In honor of everybody's favorite dancing man and his speedy recovery, let's copy so many other blogs today and dork out with a walk down my personal Swayze-memory lane.

Dirty Dancing. There's so much right with Dirty Dancing, it's impossible to really delve into this topic here. It's a post unto itself. First love, first overtly sexual dance moves, back alley abortion, class wars, triumph over both adversity and terrible music. But at the end of the day, Swayze and his tight little pants made this movie and without him, well, Baby might as well have stayed in that corner.

(Side note: Friends of mine over the years have said that Baby's dad, played by the late Jerry Orbach, looked a little like my dad.)

And not that any real DD fan needs a reminder, but Swayze was also a triple threat this time around:

Ghost. I don't love Ghost the way some folks do - primarily because Swayze wasn't dancing in this film, and to me, that's like chocolate without peanut butter; it's good, but it could be better.
Regardless, it's a hit - high on drama, lots of tears, cheese. And nobody gets pissed off like Patrick Swayze, especially pissed off ghost Swayze! Even though his fight scenes were always a little too graceful, he still got the job done. Whoopi Goldberg is also in this movie, but don't let that deter you. She plays a character named Oda Mae. She's naturally pretty annoying. But there is a bonus: hearing Patrick Swayze say Oda Mae over and over. It couldn't sound more unnatural coming out of his mouth.

Roadhouse. For years this film was somehow interwoven in my mind with Rhinestone as an odd hybrid featuring Patrick Swayze, Sylvester Stallone, Sam Elliott and Dolly Parton. (add Cher and you almost have Mask in there, too.) Here again we find ourselves dealing with Patrick's overly graceful fight moves. He got away with it in Ghost, but in a white trash bar fight all that prancing around doesn't cut it. Fortunately Sam Elliott is there to balance out the necessary scruffy masculine equilibrium as only he can. And the soundtrack? Bob Seger, Little Feet and a song called "Raising Heaven in Hell Tonight", another original by Swayze. Can you believe I couldn't find a clip of that song on YouTube?

Maybe someday I'll post about the other films in my private hits list which includes the aforementioned Mask, Ghostbusters, House Party, Fast Times as Ridgemont High and Porkie's. (I know you'll all look out for that post with great anticipation.) But today it's just about Swayze. Get well soon, Johnny Castle.

hump day

2008-03-05T15:32:00.000-08:00

** Try googling for images related to "hump day". When I did, I ended up with lots of porn shots and a few photos of US soldiers pretending to hump camels in the Iraqi desert.**

Hump Day is a stupid saying. Today is the big hump, and it's one of those days that started bad and has slowly rallied to being tolerable. Want the details? Of course you do.

3:30ish am - I awake to the drone of some asshole's car alarm. (And yes, it's totally fair to call this guy an asshole. He consistently parks under my bedroom window and his goddam car alarm goes off at least once a week. And he's perpetually topless in the condo gym. And judging by the bizarre stubble, he shaves his chest. And he drives a Miata.)

4:00am - Still awake. I've taken multiple bathroom trips, one trip to the kitchen to drink some juice that will lead to more bathroom trips, and am now watching an infomercial sharing the secrets of how people just like me are making thousands of dollars every day by selling crappy stuff on eBay. Dizzy and sleepy, I make a note-to-self that I really should learn more about this money-making phenomenon as soon as possible.

5:00am - I've fallen back to sleep, but I'm awakened again by - wait for it, wait for it - dickhead's Miata alarm. I consider screaming something nasty out my open bedroom window (wouldn't be the first time), but decide against it. He's probably still asleep and wouldn't hear me anyway.

5:45ish am - Back to sleep. Awakened this time not by the car alarm, but rather by my own mind suddenly remembering that I have a doctor's appointment at 9. I also have a work meeting at 9. Oops. Go back to sleep. Have a dream about being at the gynecologist's office and the waiting room is filled with my coworkers.

7:00am - Good morning, bright eyes. I get out of bed and turn on the Today show. Meredith Vierra is on the screen, saying something dumb. I walk to the kitchen and feed my cat his daily can of food that smells like rotten fish guts. I eat a Balance bar, drink some juice while sitting on the coffee table, staring at Meredith Vierra for a really long time. I know I could fall sleep in this position.

7:30ish am - Shower, apply extra concealer under my wore out eyes, dress. Just for good measure (and consistency, really) the fucking Miata goes off again.

8:15am - I give a coworker a call, seeing if she can cover for me in the 9 o'clock meeting. She can, no problem. I knew I liked her.

8:20am - I pull out of my parking lot where I'm greeted by a long line of cars, stopped. In front of that long line of cars is a longer line of tall girls waiting to get into the Atlanta casting call for America's Next Top Model at the hotel across the street from my building. Many of them are in mini skirts, despite the 35 degree chill. I give them props for that level of commitment. But it doesn't change the fact that they're holding up the traffic flow and will likely make me late for my appointment.

8:35isham - I mutter "bitches" over and over, then focus my attention to the Regular Guys radio program. They're on the phone with Tommy the Tard. (If you know me well, you know I'm a closeted Howard Stern fan. They're no Howard, but the Regular Guys serve as a good supplement for my secret love of listening to dirty ol' shock jocks.)

8:40am - The line of cars and models move. I hit the road with enough time to get some coffee and make it to the doc's office on schedule. No coworkers in the waiting room.

10:30ish am - I get to work. The first email I read is alerting our staff of multiple toilet and urinal leaks throughout the building. I'm disgusted, and still exhausted. I get another cup of coffee before getting any work done.

12:30 pm - For lunch I eat a delicious chicken salad sandwich - and immediately, all is right with the world again. A quality sour dough and dark meat chicken chunks are really all it takes to get me back on the sunny side. That, and of course this:

the village is taking back its idiot, and I'm going to miss him

2008-01-31T11:07:00.000-08:00

It hit me last night as I watched the final debate between Hillary and Barack before Super Tuesday that we are witnessing the end of an era; an era when, amidst anguish shared over the soiling of our country's credibility throughout the world, we could at least sit back and enjoy a good laugh at the expense of our Commander-in-Chief. He pissed us off, he made me somehow unfairly hate Texas, but at the end of the day George W. Bush has provided endless laughs. The Daily Show has the man to thank for its considerable popularity, and I have to wonder if the Colbert Report would have ever been created without the Bush administration.

We'll be hard pressed to catch too many awkward word usage or grammatical quandaries in the next administration. We know Obama and Clinton are skilled in that regard, but John McCain's not too bad himself - dull - sure - but he's a bright man. I doubt we'll catch him referencing OBGYNS at inappropriate moments, over and over again. And while Mitt Romney totally creeps me out for reasons I can't even articulate, he's not tripping over his tongue too often either. I mean, I don't think we'll even end up with a bumbling Vice President to chuckle at.

And what about the bumper stickers? I've just grown accustomed to seeing "W the President" and its delightful counterpart, "F the President". Who doesn't love, "If you can read this, you're not the President"? And "More Trees, Less Bush"? And "Bush: putting the CON in conservative"? And Calvin peeing on George Bush's head? Come on - you're going to miss that.

Then there's the potential Presidential offspring. We can wave a sad farewell to Jenna Bush and her years of good times n' tomfoolery. Chelsea brought us some mean-spirited laughs as an unsightly child in the White House, but she shed her ugly duckling wings a long time ago. These days she's shopping with Donatella Versace and getting her hair chemically straightened. I don't know anything about Romney's kids, and I sort of don't care. John McCain has a 20-something daughter with a little potential in the Jenna direction, but I just don't know. Barack's kids? Too young to tell, but I think it's safe to assume there won't be anything to poke fun at there.

It all just sounds like an oddly humorless time ahead for our nation. A time of clear thought, somewhat rational decision making, leadership we can take some pride in - and frankly, no laughs. Thank God for Mike Huckabee.

the new year so far

2008-01-16T12:34:00.000-08:00

A decent amount of stuff to share, yet little of it's very interesting. At 31 I have just recovered from the chicken pox. I guess I thought I'd somehow cheated the disease, having never had it as a child. But on New Year's Day, I woke up covered in the filthy lesions and spent the remainder of the week looking like a extra from 28 Days Later (complete with a red, pussy eye) and unable to wear anything other than a bathrobe. (The bright side to this situation, of course, was that I enjoyed hour upon hour of reality television and reruns of Designing Women on Lifetime - a hidden blessing, really.) Since then I've been harassed by a neighbor over allegations of mysterious late night noise coming from my condo (unless I'm sleep-dancing, or something, I'm quite certain there is a mistake). And I'm having surgery next week for the first time in my life. It's not major surgery or anything, but it's still surgery dealing with internal organs, and since I'm a gigantic wuss this naturally means I'm secretly sort of terrified. Other than that, it's been business as usual. The greatest thing I have to share is this:

2007-11-05T10:17:00.000-08:00

Just further fuel for the argument that he's not really black. I do love Barack, but this can't keep happening.

golden girls, part II

2007-10-09T13:47:00.001-07:00

I touched on this issue about a year ago in this post. There's something about me and old women. It's a dynamic I can't quite explain, but it's not positive. If there's an old woman with an axe to grind - or just a little time to kill - she finds herself in my presence.

I went home this past weekend to attend the baby shower of a childhood friend. I grew up going to church with her, and I knew when I accepted the invitation that along with many dear friends, I would likely be reunited with a few less pleasant characters from my youth, many of the old church lady variety.

I arrived to find that my worst fears had been realized. Even my mother shuddered as she entered the party with me. Instantly, time had reversed, I was 16 again, and the room might as well have been lined with pews; pews full of hateful old bitches.

Every church, especially the smaller congregations, has one old lady that serves as the leader among her curmudgeonly peers. She's the one they secretly live in fear of; her judgement as severe as the line on her neck separating a thick makeup foundation and her natural skin tone. For me growing up, this woman was Edith. It's been at least 10 years since I last saw Edith - for all I knew, Edith was dead.

But Saturday I found out Edith is very much alive, and incredibly preserved in the same condition and style she was 10 years ago: tightly curled short perm of dyed black hair, thick glasses, saggy jaw line, orthopedic shoes and what appeared to be hospital scrub pants paired with a Halloween themed t-shirt. The unfriendly grump on her face that I remembered so well was also in place, and it grumped up more when her eyes landed on me.

Edith made a quick move in my direction.

"Well, hello there, Snake. It has been so long. Where is it that you live now?"

"Hi Edith. I live in Atlanta."
"And what is it that you do for a living in Atlanta?"
"I'm a fund raiser. I work for a mus...."

She grabs my left hand, gives it a once-over and interrupts with:

"You are not married, is that right?"

"No, I'm not. But I do have a boyf...."

And before I could finish my sentence, Edith was done with me. She smiled, patted me on the shoulder with one withered old lady hand and shuffled in the direction of the quickly forming food line.

Things did get better after my initial Edith encounter. I saw a number of women who were very sweet, even one old woman who told me she was proud of me for "not marrying the first one to come along", whatever that means. Considering this was also a woman I hadn't seen in 10 years and whose name I couldn't remember, it was as equally awkward and intrusive as my exchange with Edith, but at least she thought she was being positive.

In the end, it was nice to be home and to take a walk down memory lane with childhood friends. And to be reminded that like it or not, whether at home or afar, I will never escape the wrath of the old lady.

Hillary knows how to get the lady votes

2007-09-25T12:53:00.000-07:00

This is genius. I wonder if I can enter more than once?

a music dork moment

2007-09-06T06:07:00.000-07:00

As all of my readers know (all 5 of you), I studied singing growing up and on into college. It held a huge place in my life for a while. After college and grad school study, I strongly considered trying my luck at cutting it as a professional opera singer for a living, but another voice - the one in my head - told me years ago that it wasn't the life for me. I do sing today in a group on the side, and I get a lot of satisfaction out of it. I've found a fairly happy balance. But do I sometimes wonder "what if"? Yes, I do. We all have something in our lives we ask ourselves "what if" about; my life has been fortunate in too many ways for me to dwell on "what if's".

Singing and the path it put me on when I was younger will always be a big part of who I am. I have a lot of memories - fond ones, and not so fond ones - of many, many lessons I learned about myself during that time. And this morning I'm reminded of some very fond memories from when I was a child.

Even if you know absolutely nothing about classical music or opera, I'd bet you know who Luciano Pavarotti is. Even if you don't know his name, you probably recognize his face. Like so many people of my generation who have sung or have an appreciation for classical singing and opera, Pavarotti was one of the first singers I recognized as being very special. I didn't come from a musical family, and I wasn't surrounded by music growing up. What exposure I had to the art of opera and singing came early on from hearing Pavarotti sing. He died last night, and I have to admit that I teared up when I heard it on the news.

I vividly remember watching him on PBS as a kid. Whether he was singing on stage during a Met telecast or appearing with Big Bird on Sesame Street, he mesmorized me. I absolutely loved watching him sing. His face, his voice, the genuine and simple joy behind all of it. He had the ability to communicate something meaningful to everybody, from the well-seasoned opera enthusiast in the front row to the 6 year-old version of myself watching him on TV. I was in high school when I met him briefly on a school trip to New York. There is no one else I could have or will ever be as starstruck by.

I've never really thought about it before, but if I were to say I was a "lifelong" fan of anyone, honestly Pavarotti is the only one that fits that description. I imagine there will be lots of tribute-type shows on in the coming days (ok, lots on PBS anyway), and I know I'll be watching them - and probably singing along.

And with that we'll officially end today's music dork moment. Arrivederci.

2007-08-21T06:24:00.000-07:00

I knew it.

more gifts from the internet

2007-08-06T14:34:00.001-07:00

What can I say. This was emailed to me this morning. There is a second installment of it, but I'm just posting the first. (the second installment goes a little farther than I think the Nation really should...) If you live in Atlanta, perhaps you've had your own sighting of this gentleman. I certainly have. And if you don't live in Atlanta, well - it just might make you wish you did. Enjoy.

things I shouldn't admit, part I

2007-07-30T16:32:00.000-07:00

Let's get right to the focus of today's post: I have become a (very) satisfied viewer of Rock of Love.

Oh, you're not familiar with the show? Really? Well, it follows a reality show formula I'm sure you love as much as I do. It all started with The Bachelor years ago, and it has produced an impressive group of mutant offspring ever since.

The recipe...

Combine the following with alcohol and scripted emotional drama:

1 part washed up male celebrity from the past "looking for love" (aka - looking for a desperate, pride-punishing career rebirth)

1 part former and/or current strippers, bartenders, and Hooters waitresses "looking for love" in a fight to win the heart of the washed up celebrity (aka - looking for a more direct career path into porn)

It's totally fake, it's a little disgusting and it's humiliating for everyone involved. In other words, it's great TV.

The show is on VH1 and the washed up male celebrity is a well-aged Bret Michaels, lead singer of an early 90's hair metal band we should all be grateful is actually still together, Poison. It's a real throw back to my teen years. When other junior high school girls were pining for the New Kids on the Block, I was taping a poster of Poison on my bedroom wall. The daydreams of other 15 year-olds were filled with Dylan and the boys from 90210; visions of mediocre musicians with long blond locks, lip gloss and tight vinyl pants danced around in elaborate displays of pyrotechnics in my head.

And while I did outgrow that teen obsession, the fond memories of a bygone era and an affection for a so-bad-it's-good guitar ballad certainly do remain. Toss in the appeal of really trashy reality television with those hair metal fantasies of my youth - and what you end up with is a show I'm tuning in to on a fairly regular basis; and no, I'm not proud of it.

They say admitting you have a problem is the first step on the path to recovery. I feel better already.

when Mary Kay attacks

2007-07-24T11:37:00.000-07:00

I have a deep love for discount stores. When work is busy or if I'm just feeling stressed, I like to bargain shop. I don't have to buy anything - it's the thrill of the hunt. Some like to eat good food. Some like to get a massage. Some drink. I like to walk into a store full of out of season discount clothing and housewares, dig around in the chaos for a while, and leave feeling like I'm a little wiser for knowing where you can get slightly damaged Ralph Lauren sheets for $29.99.

So, yesterday I went to TJ Maxx. If you're familiar with TJ Maxx (or Marshall's or Loehmann's - they're all the same), you know that the store is bare bones. Aisles are packed, and they're close together. It's not often that more than one person can really stand in one aisle together comfortably.

Understanding these logistics, it's clear why a woman suddenly standing very close to me while I was on the skirt aisle took me by surprise. And when she touched my shoulder, it was all the more shocking.

WOMAN: "I'm sorry...but I just HAVE to know what you do for a living."

SNAKE: "Uh...I work for a museum. I'm a fund raiser."

WOMAN: "Well, I saw you and I just HAD to tell you about how I've been making SO more money this year!"

The thing is, before she spoke, I knew who she was and what she was up to. I know because I've found myself in this situation more than once. I, a private citizen and discount shopper, was being attacked by a Mary Kay sales stalker.

I started experiencing this phenomenon when I moved to Atlanta. It always used to happen to me in Target. For a solid two years, I was stalked and assaulted on nearly a bi-monthly basis by a Mary Kay woman while shopping. They would always be overdressed for the surroundings (dress, heels, hair, lots and lots of makeup) and they would troll through the store, sniffing out their prey. They would sneak up on me, introduce themselves in this "really, I've never done this before!" kind of a way, and tell me that they simply HAD to know what I did for a living. They would then launch into their speech about how much more money they've been making selling Mary Kay, and they just KNOW I would have the same success. Wouldn't I like to receive one of their informational packets in the mail? And I would always so "no thanks", and they would walk away and attack some other poor gal on the other side of the store.

To be fair, in the work I do as a fund raiser, I know how hard it is to ask for things from strangers. Selling anything is hard work. I have to give these women some credit; it takes more than a little chutzpah to just walk up to a woman on the tampon aisle of Target and deliver to her an impassioned speech about the benefits of selling Mary Kay. Having said this, I also think it's obnoxious and borderline insane. I'm not dissing Mary Kay - but does the company really endorse this "stalk and attack" sort of tactic to recruit women into their ranks?

I have learned one way to stop the conversation quickly and politely is to say, "I have a friend who sells Mary Kay." I said this to my TJ Maxx captor and like magic, the forced smile left her face, she snatched her business card back out of my hand and semi-scolded me with, "We don't like to step on each other's toes. You should have said something sooner." She wouldn't even let me keep her card. Cheap.

So ladies, next time you're milling around your favorite discount store - don't let your guard down too far; there could be a Mary Kay lady hiding in the underpants bin.

if you give a boy a musket

2007-07-16T08:55:00.000-07:00

My sister has two sons, and I love them. They are cute and they are funny. Of course, they do act up sometimes, but it's easy to see beyond their occasional wayward behavior and adore them anyway. Boys will be boys.

But, they are "mine" - in the sense that they are my nephews, part of my family. In the same way I imagine I would feel about the children (or child...) I would like to have one day - my nephews have my unconditional affection.

Other children, not as much. Show me some kid I don't know making a scene in the grocery store, and my patience is paper thin. I will, without thinking, inevitably give the child a dirty look. It's not fair of me, but it's the truth. And occassionally, I have an encounter with bad kids that disgusts me so deeply, I'm tempted to take two birth control pills in one day.

Throughout the summer there are day camps for elementary-aged children at the museum where I work. I never cross paths with these groups on most days, but on Friday I decided to take a walk - leave the office and stroll across the campus, get a little sunshine, see what those cute kids are up to.

As I approached the area where I knew the campers were, I heard a steady stream of shrieking, screaming without pause. The kids were getting a lesson in how soldiers during the civil war might have used a musket (it's a history museum - which I guess makes teaching 9 year-olds how to handle a firearm somehow make sense....) It was a group of about ten kids, all seemingly under age 12 and by the time I got close enough to really see what was going on, the kids had total control. Their camp teacher - a chubby college guy wearing a Confederate soldier costume about 3 sizes too small - had dropped his musket and was just yelling at the kids to sit down, pleading with them to pay attention to him. The kids had tuned him out completely, kids running in every direction out of their minds. One bigger boy had a toy musket in his hand, chasing the others. He kept calling one of the other kids a "dumbass". I turned around, and hauled it in the other direction as if I was abandoning a crime scene - the echo of children's laughter and profanity fading softly into the distance.

I visited my nephews this weekend, and my love of kids was renewed. We had a good time and I enjoyed how well-behaved they were. But then again, they didn't have muskets.

she almost had my vote

2007-06-20T11:49:00.000-07:00

I'm always happy when I see Bill Clinton on TV. I am also happy when I hear Journey. You can imagine how I felt when I saw Hillary Clinton's new TV spot. Bill walks into a diner (they were spoofing on The Sopranos, but that was lost on me), and Hillary is waiting for him in a booth. "Don't Stop Believing" is playing in the background.

I'll touch briefly on this, but I should share that I believe Steve Perry is the ultimate light-rock frontman. (I won't say he's the ultimate rock frontman, because we all know that's a three-way tie between Mick Jagger, Freddie Mercury, and David Lee Roth.) Having established this point, it goes without saying that I also hold Journey up as the ultimate light-rock band. Chicago, Air Supply, REO Speedwagon? No thanks. There's only room for one winner here.

I was especially excited because the Hillary presidential campaign has been pushing a "let's get the young people into it" stunt in recent weeks by asking folks to vote online for the new Clinton campaign theme song. Among the totally unappealing choices were two overused U2 songs and something awful by Shania Twain. But when I heard "Don't Stop Believing" at the start of the commercial, I thought - for one brief moment - that maybe, just maybe Hillary could be my next President afterall.

But I was wrong. It turns out some Celine Dion song won the vote, thereby losing my support entirely. I don't know if Barack Obama has considered a campaign song, but if he has, let me cast my vote right now for "Any Way You Want It."

gifts of the internet

2007-06-14T07:17:00.000-07:00

I am not someone who tires of email forwards - a dirty joke, a funny picture, a stupid video clip. Work has been a bit of a bear in recent weeks (thus my sad absence from this blog), and receiving gems like this - well, they make the day a little brighter. Enjoy.

somewhat shocking?

2007-05-16T09:51:00.000-07:00

This isn't going to be a post about my thoughts on Jerry Falwell (he died yesterday). There's enough of that to be found on the internet that pretty well sums up the opinion I have of who he seemed to be.

What I am going to comment on is this: how many 30 year-olds didn't know who Jerry Falwell was until yesterday?

I have always been a little intrigued by televangelists. But weird interest in televangelists aside - Jerry Falwell has been a public figure of note for many years. A fascinating and polarizing character. Beyond his infamous comments on September 11 (there was a little more to it, but he basically said, "blame the homos") and various other outrageous one-liners, Falwell will be most noted in history for orchestrating a movement that turned a virtually voiceless group of conservative Christians into one of the most politically powerful groups in the United States, the "moral majority". I chose the picture above because it's a new picture - Falwell shown alongside John McCain, a current Presidential hopeful. My point: he's been in the news recently.

Yesterday, two women I work with - 29 and 30 years old - said they had never heard of Jerry Falwell. Never. There are plenty of news items out there right now that were I quizzed, I wouldn't know as much about as I should. But Jerry Falwell is a name kind of like Madonna - you might now know their life story or what their real importance has been in the world - but you certainly know who they are.

Am I being harsh? Are there lots of people out there in my age category who have never heard of him?

eco (un) friendly

2007-05-11T10:31:00.000-07:00

I think we can all agree that the old adage "everything in moderation" is a universally good rule to live by. If I want to eat two pieces of cake, instead of just one...if I want to buy two pairs of shoes instead of one...if want one more beer to follow-up the first 4 I just had....I try to think to myself "everything in moderation". Of course, I usually ignore that and go overboard anyway, but the thought does cross my mind.

What brings this topic to mind for me today is a situation going on in my office. A woman, we'll call her Sarah, in an attempt to do something good has lost sight of the importance of moderation. And it's this absence of moderation that has sparked an office war of ridiculous, and pretty funny, proportions.

It started last week at a staff meeting. It's the one time in the month where our full museum staff gets together. People you never see come out of the woodwork and bring their various thoughts, opinions and issues to the table. Sarah always has something to share, and last week it was this:

"Our organization isn't really eco-friendly. Frankly, I'm pretty pissed about it."
I admire anyone with a passion and the willingness to stand up and do something about it, and Sarah was on fire. Listening to her I was immediately reminded of my time working at a Patagonia store while I was in grad school. The store and its staff created the most eco-friendly scene imaginable - toilet paper was a prized commodity and I felt shamed and guilty for sneaking my plastic yogurt tubs and packets of Equal in every day. Behind my corduroy pants, long hair and clogs, I was an eco-fraud.

Sarah continued on a fairly long diatribe about the "pure evil" that are styrophome coffee cups and the "disgusting display of wasted energy" that is an empty conference room with fluorescent lights left on. I heard what she was saying and took note - we should all be more mindful of our behavior. We should pack up a coffee mug from home and stop using the styrophome cups, and when we leave a room we should turn the lights off. Heck, I'll even rinse out my Diet Coke can and put it in the recycling bin like a respectable person. No complaints from me.

No complaints until now. For the past week, Sarah has been on an eco-crazy mission. The evil styrophome cups? They're no longer a problem because Sarah has done away with them - burrowed them away somewhere - and there is simply no other option but to use your own damn mug. Forgot to bring your mug from home? No coffee for you, you bum. And the problem of wasted energy? She has started going on "walk-throughs" of our building, several times a day, turning off the lights in any space that is without an occupant for more than a few minutes.

Including the bathroom. Our public bathrooms are now pitch black upon entry. And I don't know about you, but I like to see what's going on in the bathroom before I enter. And she sends out multiple emails to the entire staff reminding us to turn the bathroom lights off after we leave, to turn the hallway lights off, and my personal favorite: to limit our use of paper towels when drying our hands in the bathroom...one is enough. It's gone from a valid suggestion to be more mindful of these issues to a wacky obsession. I'm fully prepared for Sarah to snap one day soon and slash all of our tires, forcing us to ride our bikes to work, like her.

Of course, there are people that have acted in an equally childish manner in reponse to Sarah's eco-crusade. People so pissed that they're now going behind her and turning the lights back on and it has quickly turned into a real battle. Yesterday there was a sign posted on the bathroom door that read, "Please be considerate to guests who visit our office - leave the lights ON." This morning there was a new stack of styrophome cups standing defiantly on the office kitchen counter, placed there by a mystery eco-hater. Sounds like war to me.

As for me, I'm doing my best to stay out of the battle. I mean, I love the planet - and I love a well-lit bathroom. But I think I love moderation more.

fashion police, part II

2007-05-09T10:58:00.000-07:00

Just to update anyone eagerly awaiting news of what's going on with the fashion police...

We haven't even met yet. And in fact, I'd almost forgotten about the whole embarrassing thing - until...

A girl came to my office this morning, wearing a sleeveless top. She said, "Snake, are we allowed to wear sleeveless?"

She's fairly new to our office. She then told me that the guy she shares a cube wall with told her when she asked him the same question : "Go ask Snake. She's in charge of the fashion squad or something."

I don't think I can handle this.

bathroom humor

2007-04-20T07:22:00.000-07:00

So much going on in the world - so many heavy issues on everyone's minds. And here I am blogging about - something that happened to me this morning in the public bathroom at my office. (If you want to read some great commentary and thoughts on real issues, I highly recommend 2040 World View. But for now, I'll take it back to the bathroom...)

Our office has a truly top notch group of people who clean the facility. They are like no cleaning staff I have ever encountered. The place is immaculate, and they take their jobs very seriously. And it's a small group - only about 5 or 6 people who clean and maintain the museum (which is not small) and the executive offices, where I am. They are on a first-name basis with everyone, and you almost feel like they would gladly clean out your car for you, if you asked. I've never seen people so happy with what they do - they make me feel guilty for ever complaining about my own job.

This morning I walked down the hall to use the bathroom. As I approached I could see one of the cleaning staff, a woman, was in the doorway with her cart of supplies. I said hello to her and turned around to go back down the hall - as she was clearly in the middle of mopping the floor. She said, "No, no. You can come in." Usually it's sort of an understood thing around here that when you see the cleaning staff cart in the door of one of the bathrooms, you wait until they're done or you go to another bathroom. But she insisted that I come in and use the bathroom. It was clear, however, that she was going to continue with what she was doing.

I should also explain that I have some issues with public bathrooms, and it has nothing to do with the fear of them being unclean. It's more that I really dislike the idea of such a private moment being so public - I prefer a "one-seater" bathroom, if you know what I mean. Multiple stalls bother me. When you add in the possible awkwardness of a co-worker sitting in the next stall, etc. - can't handle it. I want to be alone.

So, I go on in the bathroom. She has the main door propped completely open with her giant cart of supplies, allowing for a clear view of the stalls for all who walk past, which 0f course, I didn't like. I felt confident throngs of people would walk past and recognize my feet under the stall door. Nonetheless, I go in one of the stalls. Within two seconds the cleaning lady is knocking on the door.

"Hey there SNAKE NATION, (she said my first name), you don't have any paper in there, do you?"

Please keep in mind that the office where I am is not that big, the bathrooms are centrally located, and with the main bathroom door propped open, the sound absolutely is projected out into the hall. I might as well have been sitting out in the hall.

"Uh - nope, you're right. Looks like I don't have any paper in here. "

"I'll get you some, baby. Hold on."

She comes back with two rolls of toilet paper that she hands me under the stall door.

"You can just put the other one on that shelf in there, OK?" Also, please note she's sort of yelling at the point.

"OK. Thanks."

When I came out of the bathroom and went back out into the hall - the hall that still had a clear view into the bathroom - my boss and two other people that are senior to me were standing RIGHT THERE talking. I'm sure it's only embarrassing to me, but I felt a little like they had all just basically watched me use the bathroom.

But hey, at least it was clean.

fashion police

2007-04-13T10:53:00.001-07:00

Today I was presented with an unexpected task at work. I have been elected to join a new staff committee. They are calling themselves "The Fashion Police". I was given a little pretend "badge", now sitting on my desk, that says "Chief". Not only am I on the squad, it looks like a have a high rank as well.

This group, comprised of myself and 5 other staff members at the museum where I work, will literally be in charge of writing a new policy on employee dress standards. From the top down to the reception desk, we will be deciding what will and won't be acceptable attire for work.

Now, while I have noticed that there are maybe a few people I work with who don't necessarily dress as well for work as one might hope (considering the public nature of their job), it truly never would have occurred to me that we might need to create a fashion police squad - and more importantly, that I would be a member of it.

Next week, me and the rest of the officers will be meeting to start work on our fashion bi-laws. Oh, and it has also been suggested that once we're done, I SHOULD BE THE PERSON to formally present these new rules to everyone in a "light and funny way" during our monthly all staff meeting. I can pretty much guarantee that the girls who sell tickets at the museum entrance will find nothing funny about me telling them they might need to invest in a sensible pants suit.

Is this crazy to anyone else? I mean, I actually do love where I work - so if this is my only complaint, things could certainly be worse. Maybe somebody here in the office is secretly reading my blog, and this post specifically - and they know that deep down, I sort of want to be Stacy London.

although it's 30 degrees....

2007-04-06T08:34:00.000-07:00

...here in the southeast, Easter weekend is upon us.

We're all leaving work a little early today to get a nice head start on a mini Spring Break.

It's time to sit back, relax and enoy the simple things - like pictures of tiny bunnies sitting in coffee cups.

Happy Easter.

guilty pleasures

2007-03-28T08:18:00.000-07:00

About a week ago my cat got suddenly sick and I totally turned into one of the people I poked a little fun at in this post. Fortunately, after a week in the hospital and more money spent that I can talk about without feeling incredible remorse and mild embarassment, my cat is home and on the mend. He will never be 100%, but he's feeling good and clearly happy to be home. I'm grateful I still have him, and I learned a little something about perspective in the process. Also, there's nothing easy or remotely pleasant about giving a cat two pills a day. Nothing.

Anyway, I've had to be at home a lot with him since he got out of the hospital. He has required a lot of intense hands-on care, and when I'm not at work, I've felt more than a little trapped in the ol' apartment. Fortunately, we'll be done with the heavy duty care next week. But during this time I've indulged in some guilty TV pleasures that I thought I'd share with you.

1. Are we all fully aware of the vast buffet of entertainment available these days on The Learning Channel? Maybe it's just me, but it's rare that I can't find something I like on TLC. At the top of the list - What Not to Wear. This show is television gold. Like a gift from above, there was a WNTW marathon this past weekend. I also find myself sucked in by Little People, Big World which documents the life of a family of dwarves. Go ahead, call me weird, but I can't get enough of a good documentary about the unusual - conjoined twins, the paranormal, etc. If you are like me - it's OK, no need to explain - just turn on TLC and you will be all set. (*also, as a personal disclaimer, it should be noted that the shows I just mentioned - about conjoined twins, etc. - are always presented in a very sensitive way. They're not as exploitive as they sound.)

2. The Agency. This is a reality show on VH1 that gives a behind-the-scenes look at the world of a New York modeling agency. The agents are crazy, and most (I said MOST, not all) of the models are either also crazy, or just kind of stupid. It's silly, high-stakes drama all the time - two thumbs up.

3. The Hills. You've surely heard of it. It's a pseudo reality show on MTV and it's even more mindless than its predecessor Laguna Beach. This show hypnotizes and soothes me like waves crashing softly on the shore. I suggest you check it out for yourself.

4. The Real Wives of Orange County. Again, a pseudo reality show, this time on Bravo. The characters are basically the 20 year-olds from The Hills when they're 35 to 40 years old. The stupid scenarios they find themselves in are pretty much exactly the same as when they were in their 20's, just with a few more wrinkles and a whole lot more bling.

And there you go - a short list of television guilty pleasures that have helped me get through some not-so-fun time at home. Enjoy!

iPod game

2007-02-22T06:39:00.000-08:00

My iPod isn't working well lately...I think it's dying. I charge it and it runs for maybe an hour. Anyone else had a similar problem? Anyway.

It did work long enough for me to put it on shuffle and give this game a try...

Opening Credits: American Girl, Tom Petty & the Heartbreakers

First Day of School: Back on the Chain Gang, The Pretenders

Falling In Love: Lips Like Sugar, Echo and the Bunnymen

Fight Song: Overdrive, Foo Fighters

Breaking Up: Crime Scene Part One, The Afghan Whigs

Prom: Welcome to the Jungle (Live), Guns & Roses

Life: A Nightingale Sang in Berkley Square, Ella Fitzgerald

Driving: Jump Around, House of Pain

Flashback: Under Pressure, David Bowie & Queen

Getting Back Together: Mayor of Simpleton, XTC

Wedding: Rocket Queen, Guns & Roses

Party: Candy Everybody Wants, 10,000 Maniacs

Birth of a Child: Here Comes My Girl, Tom Petty & the Heartbreakers

Death Scene: Almost Gold, The Jesus and Mary Chain

Funeral Song: Just Like a Woman, Jeff Buckley

Ending Credits: Any Way You Want It (Live), Journey

little bitch, part II

2007-02-13T07:43:00.000-08:00

I titled a previous post "little bitch" a while back. That post shared the story of a small, annoying dog in my condo building. This time, however, the little b*tch is me. I've been in a bit of bad mood this week (it's only Tuesday).

When I'm in a bad mood, I quickly lose patience for things I can generally deal with just fine. Example A: There is a woman in my office. We'll call her Joann. Joann is a well-meaning person who talks too much. She works part-time, in the afternoons, and her cubicle is directly outside my office door. Mornings are comfortably quiet and serene, until 1:30 - when Joann arrives. From this point on until the end of the day, Joann is talking. She's talking on the phone, she's talking to the employees who share cubicle walls with her, and if those folks aren't available, she's talking to me.

Joann is one of those people who knows no limits - the natural boundaries we learn in communicating with others - Joann doesn't know about those. If I'm on the phone, or clearly busy with something, Joann will still come in my office. She will stand, and stare at me, until I am available; available to listen to her talk. And she's not talking about anything work-related. Joann is talking about her neighbor with the house that won't sell because their yard looks so bad, or she's talking about her dog with a hernia, or she's talking about her growing frustration over the fact that her husband plays with his XBox too much. Joann drives me nuts.

However, when in a good mood, I have no problem being nice to Joann. I listen to her stories, I nod my head and make some sort of comment validating whatever point she's trying to make, and then I tell her that I need to get back to what I was doing. No problem. But yesterday, I was in this bad mood - and I was a little rude to Joann. She came in to tell me about the Southern Living party she'd gone to the night before and, well, I kind of lost it on her. "Joann, I'm really sorry but I have a lot to get done today. Could I maybe hear about this another time?" I couldn't believe I had said it - and I said it in such a snotty, nasty way. She just looked at me and said, "Ok. Sorry." I felt like I had kicked a puppy. Joann is a nice person, and she didn't deserve that. I apologized to her later in the afternoon, which worked - she immediately felt comfortable again and launched right into the story I had snubbed just a couple of hours earlier.

Example B is not something that happened at work. It happened at a rehearsal last night for a one of the two groups I sing in. As luck would have it, me and my terrible mood ended up seated next to a member of this group that I have to say I like the very least - an incredibly unfriendly woman we'll call Nan. My worst mood is nothing compared to this lady's general demeanor on a daily basis - she's just a mean old woman - and I always end up seated near her, but never directly next to her . The timing couldn't have been worse. During rehearsal I opened a bottle of water, seltzer water, and it made a light fizzing sound when I twisted the top. Nan said, "You're really not supposed to have any beverages in here. Has anyone told you that?" Usually, I would laugh this off and say some wimpy something like, "Guess I forgot - oops!" But last night, the bad mood stepped in and said, "Yes, I do know that - and I'm choosing to break that rule. Thanks." She looked at me like she hated me - but it did shut her up, and Nan had no more comments for the remainder of our rehearsal. So, in that case, I guess my bad mood actually served me pretty well.

Wishing you a good rest of the week - and a good mood to match!

dearly beloved....

2007-02-06T07:10:00.000-08:00

....I was really disappointed by Prince's performance at the Super Bowl. I am a big fan of Prince - well, everything he did prior to assuming that stupid symbol as his primary moniker.

I tuned in, ready to get my groove on with the great purple wonder. However, the minute he appeared with that rag on his head, well, I knew I wasn't going to be pleased with what was about to follow. I did watch it to the end, but was left feeling let down by a man I've always loved. Something was missing.

But let's not dwell on the negative. I did notice one impressive thing that kept my attention - Prince has not aged. Not at all. And he's still really little; I'll guesstimate my calf is about the width of his thigh. We haven't really seen Prince, in the flesh, in years - and I was just amazed at how incredibly well preserved he is.

This led my sister and I into a conversation about Prince. He's one of those celebrities that I have a very hard time imagining doing daily things. What does Prince wear to the grocery store...does he go to the grocery store? And what's in his kitchen....does he eat cereal, oatmeal? And what does Prince watch on TV? Does he ever get up in the morning and watch the Today Show?

And now I'll totally copy Bossy and ask a question of you, the readers (of which there are 3 or 4, I'm still assuming)....what celebrity would you most like to follow for a day?

weirdo

2007-01-24T08:51:00.000-08:00

Leave it to Bossy - I've been tagged.
(This really couldn't come at a better time. I've been in meetings all morning and would rather eat dirt than do work in these few minutes before lunch.)

6 weird things about me, in no particular order:

1. I have an oddly shaped head - there's this knot on the back of it, fortunately hidden by a lot of hair. When I was a kid I was convinced this was a tumor of some kind and got really upset about it. It took my mom an entire evening to convince me that it was, in fact, not a tumor - just a weird head.

2. I am often told I look like someone else, by both strangers and people who know me. They cover a very wide spectrum from Catherine Zeta-Jones (alright - my nephew was 6 when he said this after seeing her on the cover of a magazine - she has long dark hair, I have long dark hair - but whatever - I'll still claim it) to PJ Harvey. None of the people I'm told I resemble ever look like each other. All they have in common is dark hair, and they are women. Some are flattering, and some are quite unflattering. Among the latter would be Peg Bundy (from Married With Children - and not the actress who played her, I mean the character Peg Bundy - who actually had red hair, if memory serves), and Angelica Houston when she played Morticia in The Adams Family. (*you might also be interested in knowing that a former boss told me I looked like Morticia Adams.)

3. I know I've probably mentioned this previously, but lunch meats/cold cuts often repulse me. This doesn't mean I don't eat them - I love a good sandwich. But I cannot store cold cuts in my refrigerator at home. If I have them at home, I have to use them pretty much the day they're bought and then be done with it. I don't, however, get concerned about the age or condition of cold cuts in a place like Subway - which, obviously, would make more sense.

4. Until yesterday I thought Scientology and Church of Christ, Scientist were one in the same. This came up in a conversation at work, which is also weird.

5. I don't get into popular TV shows on my own, like 24 (NEVER seen an episode of that) or Grey's Anatomy (NEVER seen one of those either). And it's not that I don't like them - I just don't think about them. If I begin watching a show regularly with another person, and continue watching it with that person, I will stick with and get wrapped up in a TV show. But on my own, never. (Two exceptions to this are Sex and the City and Project Runway - I fell in love with those on my own.) Otherwise, if left to make television choices, I am always drawn, first and foremost, to anything related to real crimes (documentaries on A&E - if there's something on about a serial killer, I cannot change the channel) and anything related to oddities (ie: specials on The Learning Channel about people born with no legs, etc.)

6. I don't really like Chick-fil-a fries. Everything else on the menu - serve it up. But the fries, not a huge fan.

product endorsement

2007-01-11T10:44:00.000-08:00

Run to Whole Foods today and buy one of these. I had my first Cafe Sepia last week and cannot get enough. They are overpriced, so I'm trying to keep this obsession under control.

This little drink is delicious. I usually am not a big fan of the chilled coffee drinks - but boy, oh boy - I sure do love Cafe Sepia!

Seriouly. Go get one.

sicko

2006-12-12T08:43:00.000-08:00

Yesterday I spent the day at home from work sick with something gross. It has floated around my office, and it floated into my path apparently. Not a respiratory illness, nope - something much more heinous. Yep, I'm talking a stomach bug. Disgusting.

I'm back at work today. But I'm not 100%. To make matters worse, I walked into my 10 a.m. staff meeting this morning with one woman's greeting of, "You're back? I heard you had a nasty stomach thing. Stay away from me." (Granted, this was also the woman who said that she thought I was already 30 on my 30th birthday. It's tough to catch her on a good day. I really don't work with a bunch of jerks. The rest are really great.) I do hate that everyone knows about my ailment, though. It's embarrassing - my boss has a big mouth.

Anyway, I spent the day at home yesterday and realized just how much we all miss out on TV while we're at work. There is so much - here are just a couple of highlights:

1. The View - holy moses. I just can't get enough. Seriously, I love it. The addition of Rosie and all her controversy - genius.
2. The Golden Girls is still on Lifetime - but they cheat us working stiffs by showing two episodes at 9 a.m. and two more at 4 p.m. We're at work - what the f? Don't they realize their target audience is the 20/30 something single working gals? (I include gay men in this group as well, naturally) I think it's an elaborate scheme by whoever's marketing the Girls' box set - trying to force me into buying it. I really want to own it, but I'm both too embarrassed to purchase it for myself or to suggest it to anyone as a gift hint.
3. VHI no longer has music programming on during the day. (Well, none that I saw any indication of.) It's pretty much all celebrity gossip shows all day long. Yesterday was non-stop 2006 year-end wrap up shows - perfect.
4. The Martha Stewart Show is great. Great, great, great. Sure, Martha's a bitch, but that's her thing - and you cannot hate her. You can't. She's a total bitch to her guests, makes condescending comments to audience members - doesn't matter, they love it, every single one of them. And so do I.
5. Soap operas are so ridiculous now that I actually like them. One word: Passions. Check it out.

There's a lot more - I saw a fantastic episode of COPS, a show that is on in the evenings, but I rarely catch it. All of this to say, if you start feeling the ol' flu bug setting it, take heart and try to see the silver lining: you've got some quality daytime TV in your future.

from the mouths of babes

2006-11-29T13:57:00.000-08:00

Yesterday I was invited to share in a free lunch at a nearby Thai restaurant by a co-worker who had won lunch for 8. I was thrilled to hear I was included in his chosen 8, and gladly headed out just after noon for some free grub.

More of a big picture kind of guy, and not one to focus on the small details of any situation, my co-worker conveniently left out one minor part of this free lunch deal. In order to get our lunch, all 8 of us would have to sit and listen to a pitch by from a financial services sales rep. After sitting captive (and hungry) through this pitch, the rep would then allow us to order lunch.

We all arrived at the restaurant and were greeted at the door by a cute sandy haired, baby-faced guy named Chuck. I say “guy” because I can’t really go so far as to call him a “man”. I would guess Chuck’s age to have been 23, at the most. Wearing what looked like his dad’s suit – his dad’s suit that was two sizes too big – Chuck greeted us with a “Hey ya’ll, I’m Chuck from ************ (a financial services company)” and escorted the group to some tables in the back corner of the restaurant. We sat down and really without even a slight pause (or an offer of even a beverage, for crying out loud), Chuck went right into what I would really define not so much as a sales pitch, but really a full-on act, a one man financial show of sorts.

I say this because his presentation was more than just the facts: “At ************ we can help you learn more about how to invest your money”. No, what Chuck offered was more like this: “Ok, so you guys like to make money, right? I know I do. And how about making some money without working more hours? You guys like that idea, right? I know I do.” Chuck didn't make eye contact – he looked right over our heads and rattled off words that I imagine he rattles off several times a day, in the exact same manner. And the fact that he was speaking so quickly, and slurring many of his words together, I really wasn’t catching everything he was saying. He would laugh at his own jokes now and then, and we’d all perk up for that, but were quickly lost again.

As Chuck continued speaking, I started imagining that probably just a couple of years ago he was still in college, and I then reached the conclusion that Chuck was a frat boy. Everything about him said frat boy. Now I should probably explain something. I always had a strong feeling of love/hate towards the stereotypical frat boy in college. I didn’t like them, I felt like I couldn’t really talk to them and I generally thought they were stupid – but we all know that this was just a defense mechanism. Deep down, all girls – I don’t care who you are, how smart you are, blah blah – all girls find something about a frat boy overwhelmingly appealing, and deep down, we all wanted their approval. And apparently, I haven’t outgrown this.

I started paying a little more attention to what Chuck was saying. Somehow he had ended up on planning for retirement, and the use of trusts to give money to family members and charitable organizations. He started asking us questions about trusts, living wills, etc – and as I’ve shared here before, this is actually part of my job at the museum. All of the sudden, I was answering Chuck’s questions – questions that I don’t think he really wanted us to answer. At the end of my commentary on charitable giving through life trusts, Chuck smiled and said, “Hey there – she knows what she’s talkin about. Would you like a job with me at *********?” The group let out a tired chuckle, as did I – but, deep down, I felt really satisfied to have won the approval of Chuck, our frat boy financial planner.

Chuck wrapped up his speech with, “Ok, you guys can go order your food. Just don’t go over $10. And fill out these forms, I have to give them to my boss to prove I did this.” We all filled out our forms, giving our office mailing address and our office phone numbers. I expect to receive a call from Chuck in the coming days, and deep down, I’ll probably be kind of excited to hear from him.

jive turkey

2006-11-21T07:29:00.000-08:00

(Side note: I can't keep this to myself. The janitor at my office has "Sexual Healing" as the ringtone on his cell phone. And he never, ever seems to turn the ringer off. I was in a meeting this morning, and he walked past the conference room - and his phone went off - "Baaaaaby...I can't fight it much longer...." Anyway.)

I'm easily distracted today. This is my last day of work before Thanksgiving vacation. Images of turkey, pies, and an uncomfortably bloated belly are dancing in my head. Holy moses, do I love Thanksgiving.

This year, however, will be the first time I've not spent the holiday with my family. I am driving to Tampa tomorrow morning to spend Thanksgiving with my boyfriend's dad and stepmother. And I have to admit that while I'm looking forward to meeting his dad, I am going to miss my family.

And their food.

Like many families, our extended family is somewhat of a cast of characters - people who, were they not members of the same family, would likely never cross paths. Among them is the ultra-conservative Baptist delegation of my family that reigns somewhat supreme over family functions, this includes my mom and her two younger sisters...there is the "black sheep" Red Lobster waitress cousin whose whereabouts are often unclear...there's the 30-something police officer bachelor cousin (the waitress's brother) who might or might not be an alcoholic and is usually dating a woman no less than 50 years of age....there's the uncle who makes endless fart jokes regardless of the company he's in. And then there's my sister and I, caught somewhere in the middle. We like to pride ourselves in being the normal ones, though I'm sure everyone I just mentioned would probably say the same thing about themselves. All of this to say that, while I certainly have affection for all of them, on the surface we have absolutely nothing in common outside of being related by blood....and by an obsession with food. If my family can talk about nothing else, they sure can talk about food.

I was raised with incredible quantities of food at any family gathering. More food than could ever be considered reasonable. A lot of food, and a lot of conversation about the food. And as we've all gotten older, and find conversation topics harder and harder to come by, the focus inevitably turns to what's on the table.....who made it, how it was made, when it was made, what kind of difficulties might have been experienced in the preparation, where the recipe came from, how it might have been done differently, and on and on and on. And while my sister and I get pretty annoyed by the seemingly endless talk about food with our family, and the fact that food is the #1 focus of our gatherings, I think we both know that deep down we would find a Thanksgiving or Christmas without it oddly incomplete.

I have a feeling that this Thanksgiving may feature more normal quanitites of food. And maybe it's safe to assume that their family not being southern, perhaps they don't cook vegetables with a ham bone in the pot. I can, however, take comfort in the fact that while I won't be enjoying my family's feast this year, I will no doubt hear about it later on, in vivid detail.

Happy Thanksgiving.

little bitch

2006-11-09T07:54:00.000-08:00

I love pets. I have a cat that I love too much - and I'll be the first to admit it. I was raised in a home where the line separating humans and pets was fuzzy, at best. Today if you visit my parents you will immediately notice their cat will be spoken about and to as if he is another member of the group...the group of humans. Anyway, I say all of that as somewhat of a disclaimer - because I'm sharing with you today that I have grown to deeply and whole-heartedly hate the little dog that lives in the condo directly below me.

Her name is Lacy. I have seen her around my building for several months, but never put it together that she lived below me. Lacy is a Yorkshire Terrier. Now that it is cooler outside, Lacy is usually fully clothed - much like the dog pictured above. Her "hair" bow usually coordinates with her "outfit", and more often than not, Lacy has on "shoes" - tiny dog booties - for her walks outdoors. Lacy's owner is a woman probably around my age. I don't know her name - but I sure do know Lacy's name.

I know Lacy's name because if the aforementioned nameless owner is home (which isn't often enough, believe me), she is bellowing - over and over and over - "Lacy!!!!! Shut up!!!!!!!"

Since Lacy and her owner live in the condo directly below mine, of course their ceiling is my floor. And I rarely hear any other noise traveling up - just the screaming, and the constant - unwavering - unrelenting bark of poor little Lacy. Lacy barks from sun up to sun down; I awake to the sound of this animal barking, and I go to sleep to the same sound. On the rare occassion I stop by my home during the work day, the barking is going - going strong.

Again, until recently I didn't know where the yapper lived - I hadn't yet been able to pin point exactly where the sound was coming from. But last week while walking out to my car, I heard that old familiar sound, "LACY!!!!!!!! COME HERE!!!!!!" I turned to find a frazzled woman screaming after a tiny, barking dog in a red sweater running in the opposite direction across the parking lot. I walked behind this pair all the way upstairs and watched them go into the condo directly under mine.

I've wondered for several weeks if my neighbors were as fed up with Lacy as I was, until yesterday when we all received an envelope taped to our doors. The letter read as follows:

"Dear Neighbors,

I know that my dog barks a lot. I know that she barks most of the time and many of you have complained to our property manager. I am trying to deal with this problem. I love her and I can't just get rid of her. Please be patient. I am trying to work something out with my employer so that I can take her to work with me.

Sincerely,
Unit 2218"

She's still nameless, but at least this anonymous dog owner is making some sort of attempt to own up to Lacy's reign of terror over our building. I cannot imagine where this girl works that she could possibly even entertain the idea of taking Lacy with her, but whatever - as long as the yapping stops, I don't care.

I do not endorse....

2006-11-08T13:56:00.000-08:00

Still not blogging about anything of any substance...sorry. What I will share with you is another tip - this time I send you a word of caution - a product you should avoid.

The Starbucks Pumpkin Spice Latte.

I may be alone on this - a lot of people like this creation, apparently. Everyone in my office sure seems to. I, however, think the Pumpkin Spice Latte is repulsive. I had one this afternoon and have nothing good to say about it. It cost over three dollars and it is now perched on the edge of my desk, more than half full - its overwhelming odor tainting the air around me.

product endorsement

2006-11-07T14:06:00.000-08:00

Friends - I have little to say today. It's only Tuesday and it's already been a pretty stressful week. As I am sure you can relate, I do at times find myself turning to good food to soothe and alleviate stress. But, as I am also sure you are, I am often busy - on the go - during the week and need to find good food fast.

I give you the 3 Cheese Chicken Quesadilla Lean Pocket.

I could really go on and on about these Lean Pockets, but I'll keep it brief. They are fantastic. BUT, buyer beware, I'm only endorsing these 3 Cheese deals - don't hold the Nation responsible if you buy some other variety of Lean Pocket and end up disappointed. As for the 3 Cheesers, they make a great breakfast or lunch and they take 2 minutes in the microwave. I know it's hard to believe that any microwaved thing could possibly be this delicious, but trust me.

100

2006-11-06T06:12:00.000-08:00

I'm taking the easy way out this morning and copying a great blogging idea from Bossy Bar Wife.

100 things about me.....

1. I love corn dogs.
2. I love any outdoor festival or fair, and being at one immediately puts me in good spirits.
3. I was painfully shy as a child.
4. I lived a block away from Fenway Park in Boston for three years. I could hear every game from my apartment kitchen.
5. I hate talking on the phone.
6. I love finding unique greeting cards, and love receiving a well-chosen card.
7. I really enjoy wrapping presents.
8. Potted plants gross me out a little bit.
9. I think there few things more repulsive to eat than cow liver.
10. I love fried chicken livers.
11. I cannot exercise without listening to at least one Guns & Roses song.
12. I have two nephews whom I adore.
13. My 30th birthday is in exactly one month.
14. My family tells me we are distantly related to To Kill a Mockingbird author Harper Lee.
15. I won my high school's pageant, and have a tiara boxed up at my parents' house.
16. Winning that pageant was a really big deal to me at the time, which is funny to me now.
17. I have never been stung by a bee.
18. I drink no less than 2 cups of coffee every day.
19. I love mimosas.
20. I get very anxious on long road trips.
21. I was an RA for three years in college.
22. If I could, I would wear flips flops every day of my life.
23. I never tire of good mexican food.
24. Cold cuts (in my frig at home) generally gross me out. If they are over a couple of days old, I cannot eat them.
25. I think mayonnaise is delicious.
26. I had a blood transfusion 2 years ago.
27. I have never donated blood.
28. I have performed in 8 operas.
29. I think Skittles, and really all fruit candies, are terrible.
30. I like to eat Tootsie Pops while I'm doing household chores.
31. The chore I like the least is putting away laundry. I will put off doing it until I absolutely have to.
32. I do not mind cleaning the bathroom at all.
33. I am far more comfortable standing up and speaking to a room full of people than having to mingle with that same room full of people.
34. I worked at Harvard for a year.
35. Though I haven't had them since I was a kid and would never make them for myself, I love fried Spam sandwiches.
36. I enjoy watching televangelists.
37. I wonder what God thinks about people like Jerry Falwell .
38. I can watch a documentary on any subject.
39. (Nobody will believe this....) I did not see an entire episode of Friends until after it went into syndication.
40. I could watch The Golden Girls every day.
41. I have excellent handwriting.
42. I only recently started to comprehend what a gift good health is.
43. Multi-vitamins make me incredibly nauseous. I have to take them immediately before I go to bed.
44. I was Student Council President my senior year of high school.
45. I got lost on foot in Vienna with Bossy on a college choir tour.
46. I did not have a taste of alcohol until I went to college.
47. I grew up Baptist.
48. I have never smoked a cigarette.
49. My dad recently kicked a 40+ year smoking habit.
50. I spent most of high school having crushes on guys I didn't know.
51. I didn't date much in high school.
52. I am never totally at ease on a boat.
53. I have to know at least a few personal details about the people I work with before I feel totally comfortable around them.
54. I like to share personal details about myself with others.
55. I own my home.
56. I hate wearing shorts.
57. I am comfortable doing just about anything alone.
58. I caught mono from my boyfriend in grad school.
59. I am not as close to my mother as I wish I could be.
60. "You Can't Always Get What You Want" is my favorite Rolling Stones song.
61. I think my feet are unattractive.
62. I have a long nose, but I don't dislike it.
63. I love history.
64. I loathe math.
65. I don't like the addition of Meredith Vierra to the Today Show cast.
66. I adore Matt Lauer.
67. Since junior high I've always kind of wanted to be a news anchor, and I still dream about it sometimes.
68. I think Larry King is the worst interviewer on television.
69. CATS is the worst thing I've ever seen.
70. I am a perfectionist about silly things.
71. I cannot fathom buying a whole chicken from the grocery store.
72. Tuscany is my favorite perfume. You could call it my signature scent.
73. I will always love watching Steel Magnolias.
74. My fondest memory of my girlfriends in high school is of our renacting scenes from Steel Magnolias, for fun. I did a great impression of Shelby during her diabetic episode at the beauty parlor.
75. I was a singing waitress in Daytona Beach...
76. during Bike Week.
77. I spent about a year and a half on Match.com. The stories from that period of time could occupy an entire blog.
78. If I had a year in which I didn't have to work for a living, I would try to write a book.
79. I think little girls are forced to grow up too quickly in our culture.
80. I adore southern cooking.
81. When I was in kindergarten, I thought my dad was black. Turns out he was just very tan.
82. I am a much stronger person than I ever thought I would be.
83. I would rather have 1 set of high thread count sheets than a closet full of cheap ones.
84. I love going to the movies.
85. I hate going to Blockbuster.
86. I am terrible about returning DVD's to Blockbuster on time.
87. When I am focused on something, I overlook other things easily. I have to keep a calendar for every dayn and have to live by it.
88. I have to fight the urge to scowl at people talking on their cell phones in public places. If it's not an emergency, I promise you it can wait.
89. I love Popeyes fried chicken.
90. If I really need to think about something, I go for a drive.
91. I have talked my way out of a traffic ticket I know I deserved.
92. If My Big Fat Greek Wedding is on TV, I watch it. Always.
93. I hate packing for a trip. I either take way too much or not enough.
94. I waste shampoo.
95. I love conversations that get off course.
96. I avoid small talk if at all possible. I hate it.
97. I make terrible cole slaw.
98. If Ghostbusters is on TV, I watch it. Always.
99. If I could eat Krystal burgers for lunch every day, I would.
100. I know that laughter is always the best medicine.

Golden Girls

2006-10-20T06:30:00.000-07:00

I have been very busy at work this week....and the Nation has suffered. For the 3 or 4 of you who actually read this blog, my sincere and heartfelt apologies.

While we're talking about my work, let's talk about an aspect of my job that I have a love/hate relationship with: dealing with old women.

In an ideal world, all older women would be just like Sophia, Blanche, Rose and Dorothy. They would all live together in dusty pink and beige houses, making jokes about menopause, etc. - and they'd be generally happy about all of it. Full of life, full of fun. It should come as no surprise that not all old ladies operate in this manner in the real world.

As I've shared before, my role in fundraising is to solicit major gifts for the non-profit organization I represent. My dollar goal these days is generally between $10,000 and well above. When you get into this category of gifts, you begin to also deal with estate gifts - bequests in people's wills, etc. Enter now the old ladies.

The average woman in the United States outlives her husband by approximately 10 years. Walk into any retirement home and you will find a lot of women. And retirement homes are big business, and there are many different classes of retirement home. In my line of work I am occassionally asked to visit retirement homes - high end retirement homes full of very wealthy old ladies.

This week I was asked visit one of our city's most affluent retirement homes. The museum I work for has started a lecture series there in an effort to share the museum with its older patrons who are no longer as readily able to visit our campus. The whole thing is also a somewhat blatant plea for a mention in their will, to be honest.

The program was to feature a curator from our museum. He was told to present on whatever subject he desired - the only stipulation was that the presentation needed to be slides. The group preferred slide presentations because with the lights dimmed, it wouldn't be as obvious if some of them fell asleep. My job was to be there before the presentation for lunch with the resident who had coordinated the lecture series - Mary Jo.

Mary Jo called me on Monday, Tuesday and again on Wednesday morning to confirm that I would be to the home by 12:30 lunch. I confirmed all three times that yes, I would be there, and was looking forward to meeting her. Her response to this was, "Don't be late. I'll be starving at 12:30."

I arrived to the home at 12:15. As soon as the valet had taken my car (yes, this retirement home has a valet), a short woman with orange hair clad in a red suit with a gigantic silk white flower on her lapel swooped over and grabbed my hand. This was Mary Jo. "You're on time. That's good," was her greeting. As we walked in towards the dining room for lunch, I made small talk. Mary Jo was still holding my hand.

Me: " Well, this facility is really beautiful, Mary Jo. How long have you lived here?"
>> PAUSE <<
Mary Jo: "Have you seen that movie about Queen Elizabeth? The one with Cate Blanchett? I was just watching it in my apartment. It's wonderful."

To make an unbelievably long story short, lunch was not easy. Mary Jo had allotted 2 hours for she and I to eat. We started at 12:30, and the museum presentation was not to start until 2:30. And I can't even really tell you all of the topics that were covered in the conversation - there were just too many to recall. All I remember is that I said very little. Mary Jo talked about her three deceased ex-husbands, she talked about her gay son, she talked about the old woman across the dining room that she hated, she speculated about my age (she guessed 32; I am 29), pondered my single status and asked when I was going to get married. And as soon as I would finish eating whatever was on my plate, Mary Jo would snap her fingers and an attendant would bring something else for me- something else Mary Jo had chosen. Little of it was good. Chicken noodle soup, angel food cake with chocolate sauce, a Caesar salad with stale croutons, coffee, sweet iced tea, and a Sprite.

I can only hope that if I am lucky enough to live to 81, like Mary Jo, I will have a similar spunk. And maybe a little less to say.

Is that a wad of tissue in your pocket, or are you just happy to see me?

2006-10-13T11:39:00.000-07:00

There's a crisp, cool edge to the air today, and a major blockage in my nose - two surefire signs that autumn has officially arrived.

I've got a cold. (sniff, snort)

Without fail, when the air temperature drops, my immune system follows suit. Combine this trend with stress factors such as a recent move to a new job, new surroundings, new schedule - it just all blocks my nasal passages right up. I am not someone who generally shows stress - meaning, the emotional signs of stress don't (generally) show on me the way they do in some people. Stress manifests itself physically with me.

Case in point: As I shared in my first Snake Nation blog entry, I am a classically trained singer and did a lot of performing in college and grad school. In undergrad I was generally fine, but by the time I got to grad school, the stress of an upcoming performance would manifest itself uniquely through my disgestive track. Mentally I was calm, cool and collected - but below the belt was quite another story. By the end of my two years of grad school, my pre-performance routine always included an embarassing trip to the bathroom. This was one of my first clues that the performer's life might not be for me.

Fortunately today I pretty much just get colds. But there is still a pretty significant embarassment level. When I get a cold, it's severe. Over the counter cold symptom treatments, like DayQuil - they do nothing for me. My colds are hearty and robust - and they won't be supressed until they've realized their full potential. A lot of sneezing goes on with my colds - and I have a big, borderline obnoxious sneeze. Days with a cold, for me, are spent snorting and blowing my nose - constantly - and sneezing - constantly. This morning I sat in a meeting with 4 other people around a boardroom table sneezing and snorting, and I know I was grossing them out; I was grossing myself out. And what do you say, "Sorry I'm gross and can't control all this stuff going on in my nose"...? There's nothing to say.

I have a wedding to go to tomorrow night, and needless to say I'm very concerned about making a sneezing scene in the middle of it. But, it is a wedding - so for once, the wad of tissue in my hand won't look so conspicuous.

Would you mind getting out of my space?

2006-10-06T06:57:00.000-07:00

I don't really like MySpace. I have a profile, I sign
into it almost daily - but I don't really like it. I
have included multiple pictures of myself, toyed with
the page layout (it's currently purple) - I mean, I
put some effort into it. But I don't really like it
anymore.

Friends from college got me hooked on MySpace
initially. We each made our profiles, searched for
other random names from college. But once we got over
those first moments of , "oh! did you see so-and-so's profile!!?", the thrill quickly faded. Nobody cares much anymore. I know I sure don't.

After a few months of MySpace involvement really all I am left with is this: contact with people I probably shouldn't be in contact with. That sounds bitchy, but let me elaborate. My best example of this is Melissa. Melissa is a girl - well, now woman - that I went to high school with. I haven not seen or spoken to Melissa in 11 years. She lives in the city I grew up in - a city I've also not lived in for 11 years. She found my profile in the "friends" section of another schoolmate of mine, Jill. Jill and I grew up together, in addition to going to high school together - so it would make sense that we would be "friends" on MySpace. But with Melissa it's somewhat different. Sure, she seemed like a nice enough person. But I wouldn't know that for sure. In fact, I actually can't remember Melissa's last name. I had one class with her, 10th grade U.S. History. In 11th grade Melissa got pregnant and dropped out of high school - thus putting an end to the part of our life paths that would cross.

Until MySpace.

Anyone who has been a MySpace member is familiar with the awkward and occasional "friend invite" from someone you don't know very well. They are an acquaintance, at best. But you "know" them just well enough that it would feel rude to "deny" their invitation. So, you
add them to your "friends" list. And usually it's left at that - their profile lingers in your
"friends" area, your profile is in theirs, but you never actually communicate. But again, with Melissa it's different. Almost weekly I get a message from Melissa that usually goes something like this: "HEY GIRL!! HOPE YOUR DOING GOOD UP THERE! WRITE SOON!!"
Sometimes it will go a little deeper, more along the lines of: "HEY GIRL!! ARE YOU COMING TO TO TOWN SOON? LET'S CATCH UP!! WRITE SOON!!" These messages are pretty
much always in ALL CAPS and with multiple exclamation marks, so I envision her - as she looked in high school - yelling these comments in my face. But I'm a total pushover and always write back some equally meaningless response like: "Hi Melissa! I'm doing well. Not sure when I'll be visiting - I'll let you know. Take care!" And mind you, at no other moment in
my life would I sign an email "Take care!". Nor would I end it with an exclamation point. Only with Melissa.

I imagine I'll hang in there with My Space for a little while longer. Maybe I can reconnect with Sarah - the girl I shared a gym locker with in 8th grade.

Boo-ya!

2006-10-05T03:44:00.000-07:00

Seems like just yesterday it was a hot n'sweaty summer afternoon in August. Next thing you know, it's a hot n'sweaty pseudo-fall afternoon in October and time to start considering all that lies before us with the arrival of the Halloween season.

I love Halloween, and I haven't outgrown any of the trappings of the holiday. Once a year it's totally acceptable for people to put gigantic, garish displays in their homes and yards. Well, people do this at Christmas too - but it's different. With Halloween, at least where I grew up, it was anything goes. The word "tasteless" found its true meaning in the month of October. I remember my aunt and uncle putting an elaborate faux cemetery in their front yard, complete with the token plastic foot or hand reaching up from at least one of the graves. Headstones were made out of styrofoam and personalized with black markers. Year after year my Uncle Fred put the same thing on his: "Fred is Dead."

Now, as a single gal living in a condo, I'm not really able to unleash the tacky Halloween decorator that lives within me the way I might like to. The only place I might be able to make any sort of display would be my office. And I can't do that. I'm not in a work environment that lends itself to a cackling witch recording going off every time someone walks through my office door. But I absolutely have to decorate a little. I will probably end up buying a sophisticated fall trinket of some kind to sit on the edge of my desk. Maybe from Pier One. Or Michaels. Maybe a boring basket of mini pumpkins, or something. I would, however, much prefer this.