Farmer Zombie Joe at the Annual Hoe-Down

Whew, I'm tired. And, I admit, a slight bit hungover this morning. Last night I celebrated Halloween with some friends across the river and had a little too much fun. I was a zombie this year and actually pretty happy with how the costume turned out (the pics are on a friend's camera, but I'll try to post them soon)... The past couple of years I've had some pretty elaborate and good costumes--I'm sure my friends out there will remember Ghostbuster Stantz with working proton pack (shot silly string instead of proton ray) and Tammy Faye Baker, Lee Press On nails and eyelashes galore...

This year we had a public event at work and I just couldn't come up with a costume idea. All my Halloween chutzpah was gone. I was seriously stressing over it as I'm aught to do. I finally settled on a zombie and in fact, this was probably the first time I've ever been an actual "scary" character... well, Tammy Faye was a frightening figure ablaze in fuschia horror, but you know what I mean. Anyhow, Zombie Farmer turned out to be a lot of fun. Creative use of green eyeshadow and copious amounts of white face paint and I was ready to rock and roll on the cheap.

The party I went to was a lot of fun. I only a knew a couple of the people from my old job at NARA, so at first the party was small talk ("where do you work/live/etc"), but after I became the virgin sacrifice to the Karaoke gods ("we belong to the night, we belong to the thunder, we belong...") everyone threw aside the niceties and began the karaoke battle. I ended up staying until 2:30 and probably sang during most of the songs. I really really really like karaoke. I mean, really really like it. Like, wish-I-had-my-own-machine-so-when-I-was-bored-at-home-I-could-throw-Karaoke parties-by-myself really like it.

I don't have too much snark to share, sadly... I know I promised more, but not much has happened to me lately* and I'm in just a generally good mood. I know, shocker. The party was a run-of-the-mill party, some fun costumes, boozing, so no need to recount:
and then I said to Joe the "don't ask don't tell" sailor, "blah" and he said, "blah" and then one of the Princess Leia's brought me a drink and said, "blah"... Riveting huh?

Actually, there was this one girl who kinda weirded me out. She took the karaoke a little too seriously. She was totally the kind of girl who when she saw on the invite there would be karaoke, got all excited and thought, "oh, a chance to show off my voice!" She kept "real singing" and moving the mike to and fro based on her voice volume. She had a major "serious face" problem and at one point, during a moving group sing of "Total Eclipse of the Heart" attempted to conduct us. Seriously, she was keeping the beat for us! Moving her serious little hands up and down to keep time for us less professional singers. For karaoke!!!! WTF? The girl probably took some voice lessons and sang in a college choir group and has it in her head that she can actually "sing." Dude, I took voice lessons and was in choir, but it's karaoke!!!! KARAOKE!!! In a person's house! At a halloween party!!! While people are dressed up as Princess Leia and Zombies!!! And the kicker? She wasn't even in a costume... Hmmm, maybe that was her costume! Professional Karaoke Singer, like in that bad Gwenyth Paltrow movie where Huey Lewis is her Dad and which spawned that awful song that was on the radio for forever (Groovin' Together or whatever)... Now I get it! Hahahaha!

Best. Costume. Ever.



*This didn't really "happen" to me, which is good as you'll see, but I was on the northbound train at the Bethesda Metro when this awful tragedy occured. We heard this scream and then my train shut off for about 10 minutes before finally going forward. All the lights were off so I couldn't really tell what was happening, but there were all these noises and people freaking out. So creepy. And very upsetting that it seems more people in DC were concerned with their commutes than the fact that a woman died. Typical DC attitude. I keep forgetting that the guy sitting next to me on the train is responsible for making the world go round all by himself. Silly me.

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Blah

By the way, I hate writing update post like the one below... but I haven't spoken to the out-of-towners in a while and it's one of the few ways I have to keep up with people. I promise that my next entries will be much more topical and way less diary.

I can't believe I'm apologizing for a blog entry. God, I'm neurotic...

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My Summer Vacation: Razorbacks, Bougie Cars, and Balls Galore

Marty Moose: Sorry, folks! We're closed for two weeks to clean and repair America's favorite family fun park. Sorry, uh-huh, uh-huh, uh-huh!

Well, my summer vacation was nowhere as eventful as the Griswold Family's, but hell, I'm just happy I finally got to take some time off! Even if it was October before it happened...

Anyhow, that's why I haven't been posting; I was in a third world country otherwise known as "Arkansaw". Actually, I'm from the Land of Wal-Mart and Tyson's Chicken, so in fact, my "hometown" (actually 4 cities that run into each other) has become a small metropolitan area of around 500,000. Northwest Arkansas is pretty hoppin' these days. To give you some perspective, when I left for college 7 years ago, the population of my region was around 150,000. So yeah, there are Barnes and Noble Booksellers where there used to be old men driving tractors. In fact, the week that I went home the new, amazing, state-of-the suburban-art shopping center, the Pinnacle Promenade, opened. It's similar to the outdoor-shopping center the Plaza in Kansas City. And they're building ANOTHER similar style mall (Pleasant Crossing) just over the way. TWO MALLS!! In Rogers!!!! WTF?! Needless to say, I spent the whole weekend singing "Little Boxes" (the theme from Weeds and before that a famous folk anthem sung by the likes of Pete Seeger). I sang it so much I drove my entire family insane. "Little Boxes, on the hillside, little boxes made of ticky-tacky..." Well you get the idea. But in case you don't, here's a picture:




Other than coming home to an entirely new town than the one I last saw at XMAS, my trip to AR was great. My Grandpa's better than I expected him to be, although it's still hard to see a great American farmer weak and frail. He still has his temperament, though, and I ended up being kindly ordered to drive him around all weekend. For example, while we were the first quarter of the Arkansas/Auburn game (Go Hogs!), Grandpa sits up, starts taking off his permanent oxygen tank, switching tubes to his "travel" tank, moving his bed tray and asking me "You wanna drive around and listen to this on the radio?" As much as it sounded like it was a question, it was not. My grandfather expresses his opinion by saying something, anything, at all. A firm yes from his is "Well, that'd be alright..." I had a wonderful time and hope he feels well enough to take some more drives when I come home for the Holidays. It was really nice to scoot around town (get to the grocery store in about 10 minutes and home within the hour!) and get out of the city for a while. The kicker? They put me in first class on the way home! "Would you like some more wine?" "Yes, please!"

Since getting back from Arkansas, I have been working like a fiend to catch up. The curator and I are no longer dancing in circles and things are moving forward. Amazing. I was getting ready for a new song or I was going to shoot someone. Emily is still staying with us, so most of my friend energy is going to her...sorry for the lack of phone calls everyone... I'm having a great time with my alternative family, so y'all just have to wait until it breaks up.

But don't fret, I will leave you will a small update regarding the teaser from my last post--I wouldn't want to leave you hanging... I know how much all of you anticipate my posts. I know, I'm just that sexy. Anyhow, the teaser was about my end of season kickball events, so without further ado: we lost our first round in the tournament, but played really cohesively. Next season, we'll at least not be last... The best part was the party that night (open bar $5) at RNR in Chinatown. RNR was formerly a Coyote Ugly, and it must be said that it seems that the bar kept much of the same staff and clientele if you know what I'm saying...including the bizzaro Hill-types who were wearing SUITS! To a dance club! God I hate Hill-types... Anyhow, the mood was such that near the end of the night, even I was dancing on the bar! But it wasn't just random drunk slutty dancing. I swear it had a very important cultural point to make about the variety of women's body shapes. Really!!! During the beginning of my anthem "Baby Got Back" my teammates dragged me up to the bar to shake the junk in my trunk. All the other women up there were really skinny, assless, white women. I mean, I might be white, but I sure as hell ain't assless. Pear-shapes represent, what? what?! I have to admit that my favorite thing about dancing on the bar is that my teammates are almost all employees of the Feminist Majority. So, essentially, my lovely feminist friends were begging me to go dance and sexually objectify myself! All I gotta say is that there isn't much that vodka tonics, mixed with butt-pride songs, won't get me and my ample hips to do.

Well, folks. That's all I got for now. I've had lots of people annoying me on the subway and lots of new music/books/movie finds. But, as I said before, all my energies are going into actually hanging out with people in the real world. So, time for some dinner (Oop, there's the boy now), some TV, and maybe even some ice cream later tonight. This is all you're getting for a while, folks. Mmmmm, ice cream.

PS We got a steal on a 2002 Honda Accord EX! It even has leather seats. Eek. I feel very Bourgie now, as my flaming landlord would say. Oh well... Bourgie happens to the best of us.

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No, I'm not dead...

I've just been out of town, busy interacting with people in the non-cyber world, and/or feeling just plain lazy...

I will post soon I promise. Just to hold you off, here's a teaser:

"Even though I knew it was a hopeless situation... oppressed as I was under the shadow of the Washington Monument and overwhelmed by the enormity of our impending loss... I got back up, and, ignoring the mud now caked on my pants, shirt, and hands, I ran... I ran and ran and ran... Coach's voice echoed in my ears: "If you fall, get back up!" So, I did. And I made it to base. And even though we lost on that crisp fall morning, we all felt like Kickball champions in our hearts...and even more importantly, we felt like a true team."

I know, you can't wait.

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Gimpy Elephant George and His 6-Inch Heels

New people just moved into the flat upstairs. They are so fucking loud it sounds like landmines going off up there! They walk up and down the stairs making so much noise that my friend said they must be "gimps" (although this was after she searched for the nicer term of disabled) and my hubby said they "sound fat" (without searching for any nicer way to say that). By the end of the morning that we didn't get to sleep through and waste away, we had decided they were actually gimpy fatties wearing high heels who really really really get excited about stairs.

I'm being really hard on these kids, I know. In fact, they don't appear to be either, unless you call young and fresh-out-of-the-dorm gimpy and fat. I'm sure they are really nice people; they just haven't lived in an apartment/house with professionals before. I'm going to give them a couple of days before I lay down the noise law. Ambient noise is fine, but treating shared living space like you're still in college isn't. I know, I know, I sound like a cranky old person. But you know what? I am a cranky old person these days! I have a job and greying hair. I complain about "kids these days". I love when I can just go home, get in my pjs, and go to bed at 8:30pm after watching "Murder She Wrote." Okay, I'm kidding on the last one, but you get the point. I don't want a heard of elephants living above me; it makes me cranky and we all know how bad it is when I'm cranky...

But no worries friends, I'll break 'em in nice and easy with my Southern Charm and winning smile. By the end of the week, we'll have no more Gimpy Elephant George and his cadre of Heely-McHeelersons. Firm and fair, people. Firm and fair...

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Sleepy Sleep

Since my houseguest is still sleeping, I thought I'd post a little ditty.

Em's visit has been great. Just been going to work and coming home to a larger house, basically. I got the boy and the girl and we're all a little family. It's nice. Although, next week I seriously gotta get back into my schedule of going to the gym and going to bed before midnight. Things are still really crazy at work, although I definitely don't feel like the "new girl" anymore. How can you when the security guard tells you as you walk in, "You wearing my favorite boots today, miss. I love those boots!" When auxiliary personnel keeps dibs on your wardrobe, you've obviously made some sort of an impression, right?

Other than my growing relationship with the security staff, things are insanely busy for all of us at work. I know, I know, I always say that, but we really are in crunch time. The shift from planning to designing is about to happen. I feel like I'm dancing in circles half of the time, unable to do what I need to do because I need something from someone who's unable to do what they need to do because they need something I'm unable to do because of them. I just gotta step up and figure out a way to make this phase work. Sometimes it's hard adjusting to my level of authority--I slip back into being a peon instead of a peer. I'm young and have a lot of responsibility, especially for my first job. I'm not always sure how to use it, what the boundaries are, you know? It's like in chess, I never use my Queen even though she's the most powerful piece. I always lose her because I'm afraid of losing her. I guess, though, that when my biggest complaint these days is figuring out how to make an exhibition, things are pretty good.

All in all, things are great. We're still on the lookout for a used car, but that's about the largest of our worries. And I'm going home to Arkansas at the end of the week, which will be a great break from the city. I can piddle! Piddling is something my Grandma taught me--just go out, walk around, shop in flea markets, or sale racks, or wherever and all by yourself with no general purpose. Piddling really centers me and I haven't had a chance to do it in a long time.

I promise to post more scathing criticism of the idiots around me soon. I've had several run-ins lately and I know you can't wait for me to share. There's a particular gem about windstorms and starving children in the Phillipines. I personally find these "life updates" hard to write and rather saccharine. I'm sure they are just as boring to read, but whattayagoingtodo when you have long-distance friends you constantly fail to email and call back?

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Trapped in the...CT

My best friend, who was supposed to get here last week and save all you people from reading my asinine entries, has been trapped at her mom's place in Connecticut. Apparently the state recognized the potential the girl has and decided to keep her. At least she's not trapped in the closet! Bad and outdated joke, sorry. Anyhow, after colds and car trouble, she's finally heading here tomorrow! Yippee! Hilarity ensues!

Since my peep couldn't get here, I had another lazy hazy weekend. Cooked a lot, lost a bunch of chess games to my more spatially intelligent hubby, watched the awesome Hog game (I'm becoming a latent Razorback fan these days) and stayed up way too late drinking wine and watching Office mash-ups of Dwight on YouTube. Ah, it really is the little things in life that really make life worth living. And make it easier to justify that I've broken my publicly-made pact to stop ingesting empty calories.

Whatever, chess burns a lot of calories!

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Drunkification... I mean Clarichol... Oh Drat!

I'm writing a quick caveat to my earlier post where I stated I was going to start drinking and eating less crap, including booze. Since some of my readers apparently only skim what their supposed "friend" writes (I'm looking at you Fran),* I feel propelled by peer pressure to say, I AM NOT GIVING UP DRINKING! I am just as cool as everyone else! I am not the weirdo teetollar! I rock and roll with the best of them! Please still like me? I'll do anything!* Please be my friend!? Pleeeeeeeeaaaase!!!!!!

sob sob sob sob sob sob sob*

Okay, that's all I had to say. Ciao.

*I love you Fran!
*Well, except continue to consume copious amounts of calories derived from horribly overpriced fermented grains because I am trying to not be such a fatass and also save money for better things like vacation.
*That's me crying uncontrollably because I'm just not awesome

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I get the point...

My Grandpa is having to go into hospice. He went from independent old person to, I don't really want to say it, but...to dying. This blows. The past couple of years have been filled with death and I'm really fucking tired of it. Both of my grandmas, one of my best friends from high school, my dad's best friend. Okay, Life, I get the point. We all die at some time. Class over. I don't need any more lessons.

On a brighter note, I asked for more comments and I got them. Since comments often get buried way below, I thought I'd share my successful community project with everyone. For example, in response to my disgust at the 9/11 coin, I was blessed with this little gem:

Anonymous said...
there r bettr things in life than whininhg about 911 coinz. u need2learn2get alife.

HAHAHAHAHA!!!! I checked my statcounter and it seems like it's some kid from Weston Public Schools in Connecticut. You'd think one of the richest school districts in the country would have better English teachers. And what's more, twerp's entry link was a search for "kittens." Kittens!!!!! From the kid that tells me I "need2learn2get alife" HAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!

I replied (because you know I totally had to, even if it is some 10th grade putz):

Yeah, there are. Like learning how to spell.

You're probably just mad because you bought ten of the coins and I've hurt your little feelings. I mean, feelingz.

Peace out, byatch.

And just because I might mock, dear readers, please don't hesitate in leaving thoughtful comments like those featured above. Without you I'd have nothing to write about but the commercialization of 9/11 and other "whininhg" about world events. And that just wouldn't be any fun, now would it?

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Bosom Buddies

My best friend from home is coming to stay with me! Yippee! She just got back from a whirlwind Southeast Asia/Africa trip and now she's trying to figure out what's she's doing next. The only thing we have planned so far is the Arkansas vs. 'Bama game on Saturday. Since it's going to be televised on national tv, we're going to find some other Hog fans and pig sooouuuiiieeeeee till we pass out.

Basically, though, all this means is some good quality friend time for me and no blogs for you. I know, you're absolutely devastated. Please, really, stop crying, it's embarrassing.

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Fool Me Once...

Okay, so apparently this "special edition" DVD sctick is the new black.

LOTR (Lord of the Rings for those of you not cool enough to be in the abbreviation know) is now being released with the theatrical version on one side and the extended on the other... after many people (ahem, Allison) bought both anyhow. Mainly because they (ahem, Allison) just couldn't wait the three months for the extended release. I don't think I'll be getting this as I'm fine and dandy with giving away an extra hour of my time to watch my extended versions. Who wouldn't want more time with hobbits?

Also, and more likely to affect my bank account, Superman is getting a new box set, "The Christopher Reeve Superman Collection." This makes me a tad less angry to purchase because included in the set is Richard Donner's original cut of Superman II! We'll get to see exactly how that green crystal gave Superman back his powers instead of just going, sure, okay, have you ever noticed how blue Christopher Reeve's eyes are?! Plus it has more Marlon Brando as Jor-El and that automatically makes this version better. "Stella!!!!!" Ooop, I mean, "Kal-el!!!!" Also I never bought III and IV in the first place, so I'll at least be able to proudly display those gems in my film collection. *Cough Cough being sarcastic Cough Cough*

Go here if you want to a detailed play by play of how Donner's version is different from the theatrical release we all know and love.

And yes, I was much more likely to be friends with boys than date them when I was younger. Shut up.

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Lazy Bones

I didn't end up going to half of the things I had planned this week... Work was just too overloaded; I was too tired and a huge emotional mess. My grandpa had two heart attacks this week. He's fine for now, but it really blows. I had a pretty good rest of the weekend, though, considering. Played Nintendo and ate some pizza with a good friend Saturday...confirmed that I really suck at video games. My mom wouldn't let me play when I was a kid, so I never got much practice. She said I was "too anxious" a child to play. That I would take it too seriously and become emotionally dependent on winning. Instead, I'm still an anxious person, I suck at a skill all my peers mastered, and I get embarrassed when playing. So good job, Mom, you were totally right on! I actually told her all of this recently (she reads my blog so I have to be fair to her) and she still stands by her decision. And other than this one little thing, I turned out basically alright, no?!

Other than gaming I just loafed about. Spent most of today reading several of the magazines/journals I'm getting now. Ever since I finished grad school, I've been in a reading craze and just ordered stuff en masse: Bust, Bitch, Mother Jones, Vogue, Vanity Fair, Magnet, Museum News, Curator, Journal of Popular Culture, American Quarterly, etc. etc. etc. Good thing growing up I got lots of practice at reading while all the other kids were playing Mario Bros. Love you Mom!!!

The one event I did make it to is the only one that sucked. I went to a bar on Friday in Dupont with some old friends (all over the age of 30, several with kids or kiddies on the way) and I couldn't drink. The boy had my driver's license (he was making a copy of it for our car insurance claim) and the ABC people were on the block. I'm obviously not under 21 anymore people! I mean, it's not like I need to drink to have fun with my girls (like everyone says), but who am I kidding. I really wanted a drink. It was nice to see my girls' claws come out for me; they were determined to get me to drink. When ordering one for themselves and passing it on to me was called out for what it was, Barbara began harassing our waiter and loudly too. Every time he asked us how we were doing, she would yell at him about how he had ruined our whole night and keep yelling as he walked away. I thought he might flip out. Gotta love that lady. She's a spitfire. I ended up staying pretty late and even though one of my mates snuck me some bourbon for my diet Coke, I was blacklisted for the whole night. Even regulars, people that have gone to this bar every night for the last 10 years, couldn't get drinks if they were seen with me beforehand... seriously. Apparently, fascism is alive and well in many parts of DC and not just near Lafayette Square. I know, I know, law law law...and total misuse of the word fascism, but all I wanted was a G&T people! Sigh.


During this little melee, however, the thought did cross my mind that perhaps this is a sign from above to do a little less imbibing in the future. Truth be told, I've actually decided to cut back on the booze and other unhealthy life habits (read: chips, oven pizzas, take out). The past year has been so chaotic and I'm finally settled into my new job, house, pay scale... All the good habits I gained over the years (cooking, running, taking my vitamins) went down the drain during graduate school. It was eating whatever I could find, wherever I could find it, when I could find the time. Followed by a lot of diet Coke. Or beer. I haven't gained much weight, but I just don't feel as alert and healthy as I used to. I know that a lot of people have the philosophy that we only get one life, so live it up. I tend to be more of the thought that I only have one life and I'd rather not feel like crap during it. I don't want to get cancer at a young age, or have diabetes, or liver failure, or be a whale of an old lady. I'm 25 and I've already lost several good friends. I know that anything can happen. I don't want to fuck this body up because of something so ephemeral as booze or Doritoes.

Now, don't take this the wrong way. It's not like I'm becoming some sort of crunchy, granola health freak... or a straight edge. I got shivers just writing that... I just want to be more conscious of what I'm putting in my body, like I did before this city and graduate school took over all my energy. I'm still going to go out, probably more than now since I'll be less run down. I'm still going to get a beer when I do and I'm still going to eat popcorn when I go to the movies. I'll just make sure I don't drink every night I go out and I'll order a smaller size of kernels. But still with butter, of course. Moderation, people, that's all I'm saying. And now that I know where I'm living for a while and who's writing my paychecks, I can finally settle down and get back to making my life instead of reacting to it.

Now if only I'd been in a moderation state of mind before I ordered all those journals and magazines... and when writing run-on sentences. Oy.

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I can't help but love that man of mine...

I just spent $50 buying something I already have. And no, it's not some clothing item that I love love loooooooove so I'm getting it in all the rainbow shades available to my mass consumer hands. It's actually DVDs. Why, you ask, would a sane person buy duplicates of movies? One for the condo and one for the private jet perhaps? No, we all know that's not why. So what could it be?

The answer?

George Lucas is a twat. You heard me. A twat. After swearing, SWEARING, that he would never ever in a billion years a long time ago in a galaxy far far away release the theatrical versions of the Star Wars trilogy*, I bought the "enhanced version" set of the films. My logic was that these were better than ruining my original VHS versions. If I just needed a Star Wars fix, these DVDs would do.

And now? Now, Mr. "I have so much money stuffed in my neck I can make any movie I want exactly how it is in my head" has decided to make MORE money off us sad Star Wars junkies and release the original versions. The kicker? Disc 1 is the "enhanced version" of the films... THE ONES I ALREADY BOUGHT LAST YEAR!!!!!* Now I have two copies of the fucked-up Star Wars movies, all so I could get the wonderful, perfect movies* I wanted in the first place. Lucky me.

So thank you, George. I hope you're happy with all of my money. Oh yeah, and a bit of sage advice I've learned along the way:

Just because you can do it doesn't mean you should.

*Note I don't say "original trilogy." I'm sure you can surmise the reason behind that without a footnote. I just felt like doing one since I haven't written an academic paper in a while. I like footnotes. They are a geek's crack.
*Okay, I got them for XMAS, so technically I didn't "buy" them the first time... and this time I used a gift card my old coworkers gave me when I went to my new job... so none of my greens this time either... but the point still holds true, dammnit!
*Because it was created at a time when George Lucas couldn't do everything in his head. Apparently limitations are a good thing for old Georgie Peorgie.

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Wizard People, Dear Reader

I recently added a statcounter to my blog to see if I had any readers. Well, I do, including some regulars. Hello Indianapolis! Hello Kansas City! Hello Boston! Hello D.C.! Hello St. Louis!

But, my other loyal readers, who are you? I know your general locations, but not your names or who you are. I know, slight skeevy... I feel almost like I'm borderline stalking you even though you know all about my life and I have no idea who you are. Are we friends? Did we meet at a party? Have we ever made out? Did you randomly come across my blog and were just plain ole' smitten with my sardonic wit?

Go on, dear readers, leave some comments! Let me know I'm not standing up here on open mic night, staring out into the bright stage lights, hearing nothing but crickets. But, if you'd rather remain an anonymous unrequited lover (or secret hater), I promise I'll understand.

Kisses and Hugs.

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Lazy Hazy End of Summer Days

I'm not leaving my house at all this weekend. I'm not drinking any booze. I'm not using an alarm when I get up. I'm going to screen most of my calls... I am going to vegetate and detox and watch LOTS of television. Okay, I need to clean the kitchen and do laundry, but I don't have to shower for that. But I am going to get gobs of needed sleep, rest my brain, and prepare for my whirlwind week.

Itinerary:

Work:

Find English speaker in Spanish-speaking country to locate important Central American peace treaty.

Write 5 billion emails (like always) to beg beg beg people to a) respond to our pleas for help b) actually tell us what neat shit they have for an exhibit.

Enter about 1000 items into database...so not happening.

Meet with consultants (again) for new custom database.

Meetings, meetings, meetings!

Exhibition deadline, exhibition deadline, exhibition deadline!

Figure out where that damn brass fixture I found goes in the exhibition...it looks vaguely familiar...

And that's just what I have planned... no accounting for the constant "Elizabeth... do you know if we have or can you or what is (fill in blank)?"s I get.

And I'm sure I have post-its all over my desk with other things I have to do that I've totally not logged in my brain yet. It's true, I'm very important.

Personal Life:

MU Alumni event at the Capitol... might be fun. Might be lots of older people. 50/50 chance it'll be fun. Well, 70/30 if there's good food and cocktails...

Kickball!!! At a new field in Dupont area, with lights. Which my team doesn't even need because we got the kick-ass neon fugly green shirts! We glowed in the dark last week, people. I'm so not kidding.

Grocery shopping is on this list somewhere...

Happy Hour at Fox and Hound with my ladies-who-drink from WWH. One lovely lady is back in town so gaiety all around. And lots of gin and tonics.

Kickball party. Pre-gaming with Nintendo at the ol' Rowhouse. Minus: the bar is one frequented by GW undergrads and men who wear their polo collars flipped up
Plus: $10 open bar. So in DC, that adds up to about 2 beers at normal price. Sounds like a pretty good deal to me. Plus, I think the Adams-Morgan kickball crowd is essentially taking over the party spot. So hopefully the popped collars will all be worn ironically. One can only dream...

Housewarming party in Arlington. A good friend just finished rennovating her Bungalow. Probably get to see lots of people haven't seen in a while and enjoy the lower relative humidity levels of the Summer/Fall cusp.

Oh yeah, and finding time to write snarky blogs... That has to fit in somewhere.

I'm sure to a lot of you this isn't a super busy week... you probably go out every night after work, which of course, was filled with only a 15 minute break to smoke a cigarette, eat a cracker, and pee. But even though work is always busy for me, my weeknights are usually spent at home cooking and reading... I have kickball once a week and maybe go to a movie, get dinner with someone downtown, or to a show. Maybe. But this week I have something marked in my calendar for every night.

I guess it keeps me young, always being on my toes. And also slightly dizzy.

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Like I said...

People will do anything regarding 9/11 if it makes them money...




From the makers:

This historic 2-piece memorial transforms into a magnificent standing sculpture of the Twin Towers, and is clad in 24 KT gold and .999 Pure Silver recovered from Ground Zero!

This groundbreaking non-monetary issue will never be released for circulation. Now, it is available through this special private minting for collectors only!

This truly unique commemorative is created using two distinct struck pieces. First, a traditional round planchet is struck with frosted relief on a mirror-like background. Then, a magnificently engraved skyline featuring the Twin Towers is struck separately and fitted into the background. This World Trade Center skyline can be removed and inserted into a slot on the face of the commemorative. The effect is dazzling -- it is literally transformed into a standing sculpture of the Twin Towers! The World Trade Center skyline is lavishly clad in gleaming silver that was miraculously recovered from a bank vault found under tons of debris at Ground Zero. Now, to mark the fifth anniversary, the same silver that was reclaimed from the destruction has been used to cover the magnificent Twin Towers depicted in the 2001-2006 World Trade Center Commemorative. The stunning design of this magnificent September 11th memorial is a 15 mg. of 24 KT gold and 15 mg. of .999 pure silver clad tribute to all who were lost on that fateful day. $5 of every commemorative order is donated to official 9/11 family charities and memorials.

Oh, well that makes me feel better... a whole, huge, whopping $5 of your $29.95 (plus S&H) will go to help the families and charities of 9/11.

Sigh.

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Wash, Rinse, Repeat

Proof positive that my paranoia about blogging at work is not unfounded.

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Why I get my news from Mother Jones

Pull up a chair, grab some popcorn, turn on your computer and... watch one of the most horrific days in American history ALL OVER AGAIN!

That's right, CNN is showing the original coverage of the 9/11 attacks all day Monday to commemorate the 5th Anniversary. Cause the first time wasn't enough!? Seriously, is this CNN's idea of a tribute? It's journalism at its worst--tapping into the voyeurism of Americans...most who weren't even directly affected by the attacks. Well, except their loss of civil liberties, but they don't seem to care about that. Although I didn't move to DC until two years after the attacks, every day I'm cognizant that I'm in one of the most targeted cities in the world and not just by Al-Queda. There are lots of radicals that hate the American government... Even with this admittedly tenuous connection, I still recognize this brazen attempt to cash in on the basest of American sentiments-emotional glee when watching "sensational" events. People love to watch awful things, cry, and then pat themselves on the back for recognizing the poignancy of the event.

Perhaps this is really unfair and cynical, but it's honestly my first reaction. I'm sure there are better ways a multi-billion dollar news network could honor those lost on 9/11. Like, say, an investigation into why the war in Afghanistan is now the war in Iraq? Why our ports, borders, and airports aren't necessarily safer than they were 5 years ago? Why the hell we have Saddam Hussein in custody but not Osama bin Laden? Why has "9/11" turned into justification for the erosion of basic Constitutional rights? I personally believe answering these questions would be a more fitting commemoration than watching those towers collapse all over again.

Besides, as a friend pointed out, it would be a completely different thing if it were Fox News. I mean, what more can you expect from them?

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The Duggars Have Captured Your Hearts...

Since I've noticed some resurgeance in both Duggar news (via Discovery Channel) and views of my vintage Duggar post, I have decided to repost the blog below so those not yet acquainted with this lovely family of God can too bask in the glory that is the Duggars.

Enjoy.

Oops... the Duggars Did Again

and Again and Again and Again...

For those of you who aren't blessed enough to know of the Duggars, they are a Northwest Arkansas family (where I grew up) who have 16 children. Yep, that's right. As of 6:30am this morning, the Duggar brood numbers 16. And what's most interesting/scary/mind-boggling/weird/pickwhateverwordyouwant is that every child's name begins with the letter J. I'm not kidding. There's Joshua, 17; John David, 15; Janna, 15; Jill, 14; Jessa, 12; Jinger, 11; Joseph, 10; Josiah, 9; Joy-Anna, 8; Jeremiah, 6; Jedidiah, 6; Jason, 5; James, 4; Justin, 2; Jackson Levi, 1; and now Johannah. And their dad's name? You guessed it, Jim Bob. Poor mom, her name is Michelle. She's so left out. Other than the fact that she's birthing a baby every 9 months. And according to Jim Bob, they are ready to start for another, if God blesses them again. I quote: "We both just love children. I have asked Michelle if she wants more, and she said yes, if the Lord wants to give us some she will accept them."

I first became aware of the Duggars when Jim Bob ran for US Senate in 2002. He had previously been elected as a state representative by the good people of NW Arkansas and dreamt of bigger and better things. So, he sent a card to EVERYONE in the mail, knowing in his heart that the people of Arkansas would embrace him.



Now many of you are thinking, well of course Arkansas would LOVE this guy! I mean, look at his nice, Christian family... Look at how they are combating the falling white birth rate singlehandely! Look at their matching outfits--they must be a great jug band! Arkansans love jug bands like they love fried chicken, right? Sadly, too many of you have an incorrect idea of Arkansas and it's constintuents. Yes, the majority of Arkansans (I'm not speaking for myself, of course, being a socialist and all) love white, Christian men with strong values who tend toward the conservative side. Or are Bill Clinton. But there is such a thing as going too far for us and the Duggars do that... in more than one way. Wink wink, hint hint, say no more.

Don't believe me, the Arkansan expatriate living in D.C.? Well, here's the viewpoint from an Arkansas blog:

Oh lordy, I tried my best to pass up this blog....just let it go.....leave it be. But it's just simply too delicious. First all, my 2 kids just love the Duggar's, or at least the concept of a Duggar. They regularly scan the news, looking for something new, usually of the flesh variety, at the Duggar Barracks.

They use the name to describe many as in, the dog has fleas as thick as Duggar's. Or we have enough cookies to feed the Duggar's. The term Duggar used to mean 15, which came off as , how much money will it cost, hon? Duggar's daddy, so I'd know to spool out 15 bucks. Now I'll have to keep a bunch of 1's around in order to hand out 16 bucks.

Also if my wife and I disappear upstairs one of the kids will holler Duggar at us when we come back down. Man, I wish! And it made getting our oldest girl on birth control pills last month easier by reasoning that it would be best for our family if she didn't goof up and Duggar by accident. We tell her she'll have lots of time to Duggar in the future. Duggaring is natural, Duggaring is good, not everybody does it, but everybody should.

And we remind her that to be a good parent means at least 20 years of care and worry 24/7 for each Duggar. Let's see, 16 times 20 = 320 years. ...Hope Michelle takes her vitamins, she's got to live a long long time. And honestly, what's one more kid after you have 15? I say give the ole girl a few days to rest up and then let's get those legs back up in the air. My new motto is Make Duggar's, Not War!

So, what's the moral of this story? That Arkansans are just like the rest of the country thinks we are--dumb, ignorant, racist, Christian freaks with Pentecostal hair and matching doilie dresses? Yes, but at least we, including our most famous native son Bill Clinton, Duggar a lot!

For those of you who are interested in learning more about the Duggar way of life, here is a link to the family's website. They will even answer your yearning questions! Or you can just watch them on the Discovery Channel or the Learning Channel. Yes, they have shows about their life.

God, no wonder people make fun of Arkansas.

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Urban Myths

My long weekend was DEFINITELY not long enough. That's probably my own fault. I give, it is my own fault... During a MarioKart tournament on Saturday I had one drink (okay, okay, two) too many. Why didn't anyone warn me? Okay, you're right, why didn't anyone tell me to listen to the warnings?! Anyhow, I spent most of Sunday feeling sorry for myself (and, not to mention, old) and watching Quantum Leap (old again).
Monday was really great: my boss had a bunch of people over for brunch and then the boy and I went to get some beer with a coworker and her partner. And in doing so overturned a third urban myth of the District...enough for a bona-fide list!

Urban Myths of DC Uncovered!

1) DC apartment buildings (in Dupont, no less) do go co-op! I know someone! Not someone who knows someone who knows someone who this happened to in the 80s, but someone right now!
2) A permanent parking space. Not in a massive "urban" condo building garage. But in the rowhouse neighborhoods of NW. And off-street. The kicker? It's mine! Too bad I have no car...

Finally, the new addition...

3) A bar with no television. No constant playing of sports for the college wanks, no CNN (or Fox News) for the "I'm so important I have to constantly know what's going on" Hill-types who if they were that important would be on the Hill not at a bar... or have their drinks served to them in their schwanky Foxhall Tudor-style mansions. Just the chat of the patrons, the attentive-enough but not overly in-my-business bartender, the above-par bar food and the piped music create the mood. I think that Mr. Henry's on Pennsylvania in Capitol Hill might have to be my new local, even if it is in a different quadrant. The Columbia Heights local (Wonderland) requires too much attention to detail (read: Hipster and Suburban-hipster-wannabe clientele) to be truly enjoyable for both me, the sometimes-to-her-dismay-mistaken-for-a-hipster drinker, and my partner, the teetolar.

Of course, Wonderland is only three blocks away. And I hear weeknights are much less pretentious. Maybe I'll head over for just a bit... One beer of course. I swear I learned my lesson!

Aw, who am I kidding?! I'm not leaving the comfort of my house. And I'm most certainly not going to drink only ONE beer!

Cheers, ya'll.

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Jennipher and Ryan sitting in a tree
K-I-S-S-I-N-G
First comes love
Then comes marriage
Then comes Ryan pushing...a pooper-scooper behind their lab Bear

Congrats Jenn and Ryan!!!!!

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Snarky McSnarkison

As soon as I checked my email this morning, I noticed someone had left a comment on my recent post, Pigfaced Little Twit.

It reads below:

Anonymous said:

Between your profile and your ranting, I'd suggest to your husband to run for the hills now...

Normally posts don't annoy me, but lately my friends and I have been discussing the idea of anonymous comment-leavers. So, here is another open letter:

To Whom it May Concern,

Who is this "anonymous" who keeps leaving snarky comments on people's blogs? Are you a yellow-bellied chicken who can't even own up to your beliefs? Are you Joe Klein? (Get it? Because he wrote Primary Colors as "Anonymous"? Oh, nevermind...) Are you someone I used to be friends with who is attempting a lovely passive-aggressive subterfuge? Did a bunch of people name their kids Anonymous and I'm just totally unaware of the trend? You know, like how people are naming their kids after cars? Like Audi, Jeep, and Infiniti?

Come out and own your comments, Anonymous! Trust me, it feels good to own what you say, even when people don't agree with it. You'll even sleep better at night.

Love,
Elizabeth

P.S. Is it my love of Jim Henson movies noted on my profile that gave me away as a crazy man-eater? Because if the Muppets taught me anything, it's to be an angry, hard, cold, and humorless person.

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Kittens with Boxing Gloves

First, I realized people had put my blog on the dcblogs.com index. Then I realized it was the 27th most popular link for that week! Now (it's too much, I know) they have featured one of my entries on their page for Thursday!

The name of the blog is called Kittens with Mittens, but a more appropriate name might be Kittens with Boxing Gloves. This blogger pummels a writer who suggests that it isn’t a good idea to marry a career woman. It starts: Everytime I begin to think that things are changing, that people are growing, that our society is more open, that sexism is slowly crawling towards death, I am slapped in the face with the harsh reality that our country, people, and many men suck.

Okay, to be totally honest, I might have emailed it to them because I was really happy with the posting (as per their suggestions). But no one held a gun to their head and forced them to feature it amongst the hundreds of postings in DC!

Or did I?

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Oh the fickle hand of fate...

I'm watching a Lifetime Television movie right now. At the time it was produced, Jenna von Oy and Mark-Paul Gosselar were probably the headlining actors. Two relative unknowns, Sarah Chalke (Scrubs) and Hillary Swank (two-time Oscar winner) also star in the film. Oh, how fickle Americans can be. One day we can't get enough of teenage comedy stars and the next we reject them for oh-so-serious drama turns and Zach Braff vehicles. I have decided to write an open letter in order to address this great tragedy:

Dear Jenna von Oy,

I know that you are still getting paid to act (well, unless when UPN and WB formed the sure-to-be 16-35 demographic boo-HE-moth CW, your show got cancelled), so this is not meant to say you aren't doing want you want to do for a living. You are a paid actor. That rocks, Six. Seriously.

Rather, I am writing to apologize for how quickly America's passionate love affair with you ended. You spent the formative years of your childhood playing the spunky sidekick to Nosem, I mean, Mayim Bialik in Blossom. You were the jewel of many a made-for-tv movie, including one where you had to wear only your underwear on camera, have sorority girls draw marker circles around your lady humps, and then were pushed off of a very tall building by the above psychotic byatches.

All I'm asking, Jenna, is try not to take your short lapse with fame to heart. Rest easy knowing that all of your work led up to that pinnacle death scene, so that Hillary Swank, who played your best friend, could cry for your death. This acting experience widened her range and allowed her to play both a former-boxer-suicidal-paraplegic and a tragic-murdered-Midwestern-transgender. Jenna, those Oscars are for you.

Sincerely,
A recovering Blossom fan

P.S. I'm also certain that you and Sarah Chalke totally traded comedic timing hints around the craft table and that's why she's so funny on Scrubs. Because she wasn't funny on Roseanne. Prettier than that other girl, but not so ha-ha.
P.S.S. I so love how you rocked hats and big flowers decades before that fashion poseur Sarah Jessica Parker.

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And the day ends on a high note...

Hurumph

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