Willow Crossing

Park on this.

2008-03-26T16:24:00.005-04:00

I started to reply to Lorna’s comment on the post below, about my outrage at the “Preferred Parking for Alternative Fuel Vehicles.” It got so long that I decided to make it into its own post. Lorna, no disrespect taken! From you? NEVER! But here’s the answer. The reasons I got so bent out of shape are many, but the gist is sorta this: Some unseen person, out there somewhere, is deciding who is ultimately deserving of better parking. The shadowy Parking Tsar, sorting out the wrongthinkers. Helping the public to judge me by my CAR! I completely understand that certain parking designations must be made.

Handicapped parking: Absolutely necessary, and often abused by truly insensitive jerks.

Parking for new mothers: OK, whatever. I'll abide by that. It's a valid thing. Even though I'm not entirely sure that the difficulties associated with being a new mommy are greater than a myriad of other concerns. Like a sudden attack of your chronic IBS compelling you to get into the store as quickly as humanly possible. Or a sore ankle. But still. OK.

But now? Parking for alternative fuel vehicles? NO.

First of all, define "alternative fuel". That could mean anything. A horse-drawn carriage is certainly one alternative, and not a very “green” one. And why give them preferred parking? What makes them better? Many alternative fuels are dirtier and/or more expensive to produce than good ol' gasoline. The jury's still WAY out on this stuff, and I will not let a group of believers in dubious, hip science take away my right to park in a free, public lot. Is my money not as good as the poser's?

And let's say I DO give in on the alternative fuels parking. What's next? What kind of pecking order will finally be arranged for me in a free, public lot? And what will be my place in this future hierarchy of hipness?

Will there be:

Parking for Alternative Fuel Vehicles with Drivers who Remembered to Bring their Own Bags

Parking for people who would LIKE to buy an alternative fuel vehicle, but cannot afford it, due to some vague social injustice.

This Space Reserved for a Local. You may not park here if you drove in from the suburbs.

Parking for Green Party activists.

Parking for Obama supporters only.

Parking for Hillary supporters only. (That’s a little further away from the store than the Obama one, naturally.)

Parking for vegans.

Preferred Parking for gay people and Muslims (We’re not JUST tolerant! We prefer you!)

And finally, way, way, way in the back, in the pouring rain, six miles from the store, where all the bird poop lands, somewhere just a little closer to the store than Evangelical Christian parking:

Parking for Kristine, because she drives a Jeep 15 miles to get here once a week, and listens to conservative talk radio on the way. Even though she DID bring her own bags, and came here specifically to purchase organic and local veggies. While you're at it, Kristine, report to the Politburo for questioning.

“Please, comrade! Look! I wear really unattractive Birkenstocks and long, flowy skirts! I buy local! I recycle! I tolerate those energy-efficient light bulbs! For crying out loud, comrade! Look at my groceries! Tofu! TOFU!”

“NOT GOOD ENOUGH! Report to The Reprogramming Office, and then the Department of Random Additional Taxation.”

Am I over dramatic? ALWAYS. Overreacting? Maybe. But these little things get to me like annoying pinpricks. So, I suppose, I’m only angry because this is one example, one very small (but annoying) example, of the slippery slope that is political correctness. I see more and more of this mindless crap every day. I watch it as it trickles down from the top, little by little, taking away our freedoms of speech and parking. And so many people are just too afraid to protest it. I’m telling you, I don’t merely dislike this direction. It scares me.

And, for the record, I actually really do like alternative fuels, and John and I are actually looking into producing our own bio-diesel as a real alternative. It's surprisingly do-able. But I won't expect to be thrown some kind of cookie for it when I do.

Also for the record: I parked there anyway. And I will again.

What's next?

2008-03-22T18:06:00.004-04:00

I took this picture with my cell phone in a Pittsburgh parking grarage on Thursday, and I have two words. Bull and shit.

Yep.

2008-03-01T10:51:00.000-05:00

For the love of Pete, STOP!

2008-01-18T16:57:00.000-05:00

***This post is rated P, for profanity.***

Will people PLEASE stop using the following expressions, like, EVERYWHERE?

pwn : This is entirely meaningless and I will not allow it to creep into my vocabulary.
Drinking the Kool-Aid : Every single person on talk radio says this every single day. Aside from being completely hackneyed at this point, it's also a really unsavory reference. Think about it! EW!
Thinking outside the box : OK, the moment these words escape your lips, I write you off as completely vacuous, with no original thought, inside or outside of the so-called, alleged BOX. Anything that follows this is all pops and buzzers to my ears. I had a boss who liked to say it. She would say, "OK, people, we need to start thinking outside of the box." What I heard was, "OK, people, I got nothin', but I do love the sound of my own voice." This phrase, and other awful buzzphrases, come about because most people just talk WAY TOO DAMNED MUCH. Having something to say is no longer a requirement for talking, I suppose. For proof, see : Barack Obama.
Chillax : Oh, dear God, but this is unacceptable. I heard somebody say this at the book store today. I had to suppress my violent urges.

Will people PLEASE stop doing the following?

Talking on cell phones in restaurants. Shut your pie hole. Shut it NOW. This conversation about your tee time can wait until you're done with your x-treme fajitas. Take that fuckin' bluetooth garbage off your ear and talk to your dining companions, you self-important blowhard.
Letting your children run wild in a restaurant. I'd like to inform you, Uhura-Looking-Earpiece Man, that your savage, chaos-worshipping children are not even slightly entertaining to me. In fact, they are giving me x-treme indigestion.
Borrowing your grandma's handicapped parking permit. Some people really do need these spaces, you know. My mom is one of them, so learn to walk, you lazy slobs.
Telling me that I "have to see this movie". No, I don't. "No, but you really do! You have to see it!" No, I don't. "Seriously, you have to see this movie." No, I really, really don't.
Parking in front of my mailbox. (That one is just in case any of my neighbors are reading this.)

Better now.

My New Hit Record

2008-01-16T13:19:00.000-05:00

I am completely powerless to stop myself from participating in THIS meme, thanks to MCF. I have really crappy image editing software, so, this is about as much as I could do. I've GOT to find that Photoshop disk.

1. The first article title on the Wikipedia Random Articles page is the name of your band.

2. The last four words of the very last quotation on the Random Quotations page is the title of your album.

3. Any appropriate picture in Flickr's Creative Commons licensed photos will be your album cover.

4. Use your graphics program of choice to throw them together, and post the result.

I hope you enjoy Artem Grigoriev's debut album, world must roll on.

The Double Mangling

2008-01-14T22:54:00.000-05:00

OK, so, ages ago, I wrote about how I'd mangled my finger. The short story is this: I was trying to fix my pool thermometer with a butter knife (have those words ever been written in that order before?) and the knife slipped, and I cut my left index finger straight to the bone, right across the joint. It hurt. Ever afraid of doctors and hospitals, I decided to effect repairs myself. Long story short: The top of my left index finger is still completely numb and I see stars every time I bump it too hard. And not the good stars, either. Last time, I saw Carrot Top in a negligee. But it is healed, anyway.

Not one to rest on my laurels, I decided to mangle another digit just before Halloween. I was making vegetable soup and had just opened a can of delicious roasted tomatoes. I concluded that the soup needed a bit of water added to it before the tomatoes made an entrance, so I sat the can down on the counter, motivated toward the faucet, and sliced open the ring finger of my right hand on the can lid. It hurt. It was absolutely grisly. Just a few minutes later, John came home to find me trying to effect repairs myself, as before. I showed him the finger and he insisted this one was too bad to avoid the ER.

We went to the ER, I got triaged. The nurse put a band-aid on my finger, told me to be sure I held it STRAIGHT, and told us to have a seat. We waited. And waited. And then we waited some more. Finally, two and a half hours later, I got called back to a room. We waited. Then a doctor came. I showed her my finger and asked her if this little cut REALLY warranted a trip to the ER. She said it most definitely did. Because I had waited in the aptly-named waiting room for so long, my cut had actually begun to heal, so she had to rip it back open again. That was fun. Then she gave several shots of novocaine into the spaces between my knuckles. That hurt. Then she gave me eight stitches and a goody bag of splints, gloves, the scissors and tweezers used for my stitches, and several rolls of tape and gauze, and I went home at 3AM with a grim trick-or-treat bag and a frankenfinger for the holiday. They wrapped my finger HUGE, and I mean HUGE with white gauze. I went home, drank some wine to help me sleep, and mused about two things:

How funny it would have been if it had been my middle finger wrapped so big (oh, how I would have relished that).
How long I would have to wait for a minor procedure if the Federal Government took over the hospitals. (My theory is I'd still be there now.)

And so THAT is the story of my double mangling. And I still have baseball-looking scar on my right hand, and it still kinda hurts when I bump it.

Pittsburgh

2008-01-09T02:14:00.000-05:00

Easing myself back into the blogging world... It's a New Year's resolution.

Here's my review of Pittsburgh, Starring Jeff Goldblum, as posted on one the IMDB message boards (in response to "Anyone from Pittsburgh watch this yet?"):

Lifelong Pittsburgher here. I just watched this film and must say, I was extremely disappointed. Very little actual 'Burgh, and the movie itself started to feel like a collection of random kibbles and bits from a cutting room floor. By the end, I was asking my husband if it seemed to him that Jeff got all his buds to join in this production of The Music Man just for the purpose of making this film. It was weird, I tell you.

The Netflix description said that the director was "blurring the line between reality and fiction". I'm a reasonably intelligent person from sound parentage, and I couldn't figure out where the line was. It got so that TRYING to find the line was just plain tedious. I didn't care.

Finally, I like Jeff Goldblum. I do, I guess. Or whatever. The Tall Guy is one of my favorite movies, so that's something. But I REALLY did not want to hear him speak of "elevating the production" one more time. As if Ed Begley Jr. is Pittsburgh's thespian savior. Uh, please. Saving us from our congenital Begleylessness, I guess? The void that only a heapin' helpin' of Begley can fill? Yeah, thanks so much, Ed, for slumming in Pittsburgh. It means the world to us. Pittsburgh theatre is forever altered by all yinz's greatness.

But they did show Kennywood!

Me Not Stoopid

2007-08-05T21:08:00.000-04:00

H/T to the The Hidden One.

Am-I-Dumb.com - Are you dumb?

Baby Got...

2007-07-09T13:52:00.000-04:00

Mangled finger. Typing hard. Accident with kitchen knife. Surprised finger still attached. Big splint.

So watch this:

I See the Light!

2007-06-20T17:50:00.000-04:00

You know, before this video, I thought that Hillary Clinton was a lying, shrieking, hypocritical harpy with ZERO qualifications to recommend herself as a viable presidential candidate. Boy, was I wrong. Her Oscar-worthy acting and pop culture hipness has completely changed my mind. Now I'm for Hillary all the way!

Yep. Something actually pissed me off enough to figure out this new Google system that's been rejecting me and post.

Seriously guys, this is too much.

Last Name Jobs

2006-12-22T02:10:00.000-05:00

It has recently come to my attention that I enjoy all crafts that are old enough to have a surname associated with them. I am completely fascinated with this idea, and I am also insane. That is why I feel compelled to list every English last name that refers to a profession. Please let me know if you have any not listed.

Hunter
Fisher
Baker
Cook
Cooper
Chandler
Mason
Smith
Potter
Weaver
Thatcher
Wright
Miller
Farmer
Carpenter
Tailor (Taylor?)
Proctor
Singer
Binder (I actually know someone with this name!)
Wood (?)
Scribner (?)
Archer
Wheeler
Plummer (I doubt this one. My husband came up with it. But that's not why I doubt it.)
Sawyer
Sheppard (Shepherd?)
Butcher (Again, I personally know someone with this name.)
Book (or Booker?)
Glazer (Or Glass, or Glazier)
Cutter
Doctor
Barber

Well, that's all I can think of at this late hour. It seems to me that thre should be something having to do with shoemaking and winemaking, but I can't think of a thing. COBBLER is a dessert, not a surname, right? And, it seems I have my work cut out for me, if I'm going to learn all of these skills.

Shameless

2006-11-29T11:02:00.000-05:00

Darrell over at SouthCon had some reservations about posting a video recently. He was worried that people might think he was making fun of mentally-challenged citizens. He had some concerns about causing offense. I have no such concerns. Nor do I have any shame. Here's the video I can't stop watching. I find this so entertaining, in fact, that I worry about my own sanity. Further, the guy in the back can do no wrong. Why? Why do I find him so funny?

I've Banned Someone.

2006-11-08T19:29:00.000-05:00

I admit it, I have cheaply banned someone from my blog. I did so because what started as a civil discussion was met with an unending barrage of personal attacks. In my attempt to back up Unseen just a little, I was hit with the following:

1. My stupid fucking hat makes me look like an elf.
2. I should go to glamour shots and get a better picture of myself.
3. My parents must like to deface (sic) God because they misspelled "Christ" in my name.
4. I should go and suck lemons because my life must be miserable.
5. I was accused of not understanding sarcasm, but my profile was taken seriously.
6. I should put a cock in my mouth to keep me busy while I wait for Jesus to scoop me up.
7. I oughta get laid.
8. Oh, almost forgot. My ugly knitted hat must be keeping the alien voices low, or something.
9. And the best one: The way I write sounds gay.

After all that, I decided to delete everything I had written and refrain from association with these people. At that, the owner of the blog said that because I am a Conservative, I quit when the argument got too hard. I'm not sure what's really there to discuss, so I did quit. And yes, I'm banning the blogger in question. I just want to write about tea and wine and commas and chocolate and movies and how super-hot Gary Oldman is.

But to this blogger, I apologize. My comments, originally, were not meant to stir this all up. I think it's unfortunate, but this blogger's friends rendered themselves irrelevant by doing nothing but attacking me personally. I divest myself of the whole thing. And I totally understand sarcasm, when it's actually sarcastic. And I like a good joke, when it's actually funny. If these things were meant as jokes, then I'm dealing with 6th graders. And I still like my stupid fucking elf hat.

My life is already too complicated and too stressful. I don't need the extra negativity. So, in the future, I will continue by blogging only about insipid topics. It's what I prefer anyway.

I Don't Understand

2006-11-07T23:23:00.000-05:00

I don't understand why I'm constantly called onto the carpet for caring about language. I've spent ten years as a writer, a professional writer and editor. It's my JOB to make sure that things are correct. So, if I nitpick it elsewhere, that's just natural. Does anybody complain when the guy who designs a bridge is too much of a stickler? What about your surgeon? What if your surgeon was loosey-goosey about her profession? Would you expect a surgeon to use, as her doctor, someone who graduated from "Bobz Krazy Skool of Kuttin' Folks"? Would you understand if an engineer pointed out that a building was structurally unsound? More realistically, what about a chef? Do you expect a professional chef to eat at McDonald's and pretend to like it? Would you expect a professional musician to listen to Kenny G? Would you expect a professional stylist to admire Al Sharpton's hairdo?

It's simply this. I have a natural love and affinity for language. When used well, it has the capacity to exalt, incise, and inform. When used improperly, it has the capacity to degrade, misinform, and confuse. Many of the most beautiful and uplifting thoughts from throughout history are immortalized in the English language. Seeing it all fall apart does not please me. Shakespeare would never have said ROFLMAO, even if it had been invented, or even if he was ACTUALLY lying on the floor laughing his ass off. He knew where the hell to place an apostrophe, as did every 4th grader not so long ago. The poetry is being lost. So many people seem to think it's uncool to even TRY. Caring about this does not indicate a neurosis.

I don't think that people who frequently misspell or misplace an apostrophe are stupid. But I do find it jarring to read what they write. And often, I think it's sad when a brilliant thought is expressed with incorrect language. Because it will drag the whole thing down.

When I'm writing on my blog, I liberally maul the language. I use sentence fragments all the time. All the time. Often, I won't go back and fix my typos, because I'm done working for the day. I use too many commas, and I won't use a semicolon, even if it's the right thing to do. Further, I don't even consider myself that good a writer. Workmanlike, I'd say. I'm in awe of the few authors who turn a truly elegant phrase. I wish I could do that. My career has been as a technical writer, and it is an exacting, if uncreative, job. As an Aquarian, it is not even in my nature to be so detailed, but it is in my training.

It just so happens that I also care about good table manners, and don't want to eat with somebody who constantly shows me what's in his mouth. Does that make me snobby? I like to see men behave like gentlemen and women like ladies. Not because I'm prudish, but because I prefer people with enough self-respect to respect others by using good behavior. The definition of grace, in my opinion, is how comfortable you make others feel. I don't use foul or even racy language in front of my mother because I know she does not like it, but I will gleefully develop a sailor mouth in the right company.

Since when does self-respect and good behavior make you a neurotic prude? Is it just when others find it inconvenient? I just don't understand.

Finally, when that surgeon, from before, gets a new piece of equipment designed to keep you alive, she'll need a manual to learn how to use it. I hope, for your sake, that the technical writer of that manual was as much of a prudish, priggish, pain-in-the-ass as I am. In that case, the misplaced comma could be the difference between life and death.

And here endeth my final rant about language.

Harvard

2006-11-07T01:19:00.000-05:00

A new student at Harvard is lost and cannot find the library. He asks an upperclassman, “Excuse me, where’s the library at?” The older student replies, “You are at Harvard now, dear fellow, and at Harvard, we do NOT end our sentences with prepositions.” So the freshman says, “OK, where’s the library at, asshole?”

That never gets old for me.

Why I Can't Shut Up

2006-10-31T14:55:00.000-05:00

There's no doubt about it, I am sentimental about my alma mater. I tend to go on and on about what a wonderful place SVC is. For just a taste of why that is, click here, and get your Troy on, while you're at it.

Ten Things I Learned This Weekend (Part One of One)

2006-10-23T15:27:00.000-04:00

The Unseen One, due to circumstances beyond his control, has declined to post his regular Monday litany of education. In spite of my own reluctance to blog at all, I am ever one to pick up the slack. It would be sad, indeed, if regular readers of his blog were denied ten true facts on a Monday, and so, I present to you, my own list of ten bits o' weekend learning.

1. Some people, despite the blessings and ravages of time, learn nothing and remain real ignorant a-holes. I rest in the knowledge that they will get theirs in the end.

2. I really don't care if the Steelers have a bad year. Last year was more than I could have asked for, and this year it's just fun to watch them play. I refuse to add a silly game to the list of things that stress me out. My heart and my blood pressure don't need anything extra. But I remain ever-faithful to Cowher.

3. Sweet box o' wine = Morning pain. On Sunday morning, I felt like evil dipped in a sugary coating of sin. I haven't felt like that since college. Thank you, SuperJeans.

4. Frank Lloyd Wright may have been a genius, but he occasionally produced the ugly. On a trip to Fallingwater, I learned that the canopy connecting the main house with the guest house was an engineering marvel. Cretin that I am, I could not see it. Our guide said that it was a remarkable feat of concrete and very few supports. Surprising that it was able to stand. I kept thinking, "Yeah, I could make a piece of poop stand on its head, but that wouldn't make it pretty." I wonder what that makes me. I was also not crazy about the combination of American Southwest and Japansese aesthetics. Nope, not crazy at all. I suppose I am just too low-brow. That said, I did think most of the house was brilliant.

5. Speaking of that, Dr. Peter Agre was on The Colbert Report, talking fancy talk about science, and how Americans are unable to distinguish the good science from the bad. He won a Nobel Prize for cell membrane stuff, so I guess that makes him smart. But he said something that I found troubling. He said that there was a trend toward anti-intellectualism in this country, and that fully half of Americans did not read even one book last year. The dumbest people I know, THE DUMBEST, all read a book last year. At least one. I kow a couple of irretrievably stupid people who read more than one. As for anti-intellectualism, well, maybe, but that depends entirely on how you define an intellectual, doesn't it? It seemed to me that he was equating liberalism with intellect. What a surprise. This may deserve its own post. I'll get to it someday. For the record, I read about 24 books last year, and countless articles. Though some were about Sarah Michelle Gellar's ever-changing hairstyles, some were also about Quantum Physics. The smartest man I ever knew was my college mentor and the chair of the Physics department, and he was a religious man, as well. Take that, Agre, you smarty smarty smart pants man. I smacked down a Nobel Laureate. Yay for me.

6. I'm not as good at this as The Unseen One. I can't seem to keep it concise. Brevity is the soul of wit, so I oughta shut up.

7. Steve Carrell is hilarious. Of course, I didn't learn that this weekend, but I extra-learned it. His voice performance in Over the Hedge is nothing short of genius. And the new line with which I will annoy my husband is "but I like a cookie."

8. Some people really need to take their eensy little bit of power and shove it up their you-know-whats. When dealing with anyone in charge of some microthing, I am constantly reminded of the line from Hamlet, "I could be bounded in a nutshell and count myself the king of infinite space." A good blogger would take the time to look that up to confirm its accuracy. But I shan't.

9. Sometimes, the most unexpected person, the most seeming pragmatist, the most practical individual, will surprise the hell out of you by admitting she is addicted to fantasy literature. You could have known her for years, and secretly, she's more fluent in Lord of the Rings than you are. Go figure.

10. Because readers depend on The Unseen One for these lifesaving tips, I shall provide one as well. When fencing with a pirate, an elegant and witty retort is as lethal as a physical blow to the heart. So read the thesaurus regularly and keep watching all things Joss Whedon.

Cheers!

Diary of Bitterness and Shame

2006-09-23T01:46:00.000-04:00

Every time I take a long break from the blogging, I make the same tired excuses. I'm too grumpy. I'm too tired. I'm too lame. I'm too overwhelmed. Well, whatever. Here I am again, back out of hiding. Basically, I listen to way too much news and talk radio. I need to follow the example of The Unseen One and turn it all off. Because right now, I'm almost entirely Mormon. Or at least my basement is becoming so, as I actually begin to stockpile dried foods and water because of Glenn Beck's constant heralding of World War III. Also, my beloved Douglas Cat, who is 14 years young, has just gone through major surgery. Because I do not have children, this is more important to me that it should be. (Or so people with children tell me.) On top of that, I'm in a sustained pattern of "angry at my spousal unit", here on the very eve of our 10th anniversary. Lucky he has no desire to read my blog. That might be part of the problem. If he had a blog, I'd want to read it. In fact, it would be compulsory. Because I desire to know about him. But after 10 years of him knowing very little about me, my desire to know him is waning. Today, a certain Dr. Phil, who I NEVER watch, said this: "The best predictor of future behavior is past behavior." With regard to my prime relationship, just shy of 10 years, this hit home a little too hard.

Which brings me to my main point:

I am embarrassed. I am completely and utterly shamed by my entertainment habits. Today, as you now know, I watched Dr. Phil. How low will I sink? One would think that my choices for entertainment would be at least approximately commensurate with my level of intellect and education. But such is not the case. (Perhaps I'm neglecting the possibility that my level of intellect is, in fact, indicated by that with which I choose to amuse myself. What a frightening notion!) Tonight, while listening to the significant other snore at a competitive level despite years of begging for a solution, I began to channel surf. I'll admit it. I was feeling pretty low right then. Pretty low. This unfettered snoring is an outrageously accurate metaphor for our whole relationship. But then I came across America's Funniest Videos. Naturally, I stopped because there was a video of people "fishing for squirrels". That is, tying peanuts to fishing line to make squirrels jump and run. This, I found mildly amusing. Then, a video of people falling down, mostly because they were adults doing things they ought not. This is where it gets ugly. I went from near total despair to hilarious laughing in a nanosecond. Uproarious laughter peppered with a bit of rooting for the playground equipment responsible for the groin pain of grown men. Hilarious uproarity when the fakely-smiling cheerleader tumbles from atop a precarious pyramid. And most of all, hootin' and hollerin' when some dude walks into a pole. Suddenly, I'm happy again, if only briefly.

It's then that it occurs to me: This is obviously my next blog entry. Let's get ourselves a glass of wine and write it out. It will make us feel better. Just as the royal "we" does. So we dragged our feet to the fridge for a wee glass of of Sauvignon Blanc (our favorite white wine when we are feeling low), and then we proceeded to the computer. And here we are.

I feel it is important to mention that I have just returned from a week of pottery camp, which I attend every year. For one week, I heard no cars, I saw no TV, and heard no radio or husband snoring. Only had the conversation of like-minded, if irretrievably liberal, friends and geese and clay. (The geese are practically Communists, but for a few ideological concerns about power corrupting and blah blah blah.) Re-entry into traffic world is SUPER hard.

Back to the matter at hand. Thanks to the timely information of Kelly, I am the proud holder of tickets to a Buffy Cabaret tomorrow night (tonight, actually). My God, I bought tickets to a Buffy Cabaret. Not surprising, really, since at this time of year, I watch a Buffy episode almost every night. I'm not going in costume. Sadly, this is only because I have been away and have not had time to concoct one. So, not only do I attain disproportionate levels of glee from people falling down, but also from Buffy the Vampire Slayer, of which I am a certified obsessive. One who remains fully in love with the Spike of season six. Let's look at what else occupies my down time.

I love reality TV. Survivor, The Amazing Race, Big Brother, Rock Star, and, my disturbing favorite, Dancing with the Stars. It's not bad enough that I watch Dancing with the Stars. It's far worse that I am actually concerned about Mario Lopez not yet finding favor with the judges.

I don't get enough with my faithful viewing of American Idol, so I have watched, via YouTube, every entrant in the 2006 Eurovision thingy. My only defense is that it was educational. I learned that Eurovision sucks, real hard. I thought the entry from my beloved Slovenia was bad, until I watched the entry from Ireland. It's hard to believe that the country that brought us U2 also brought us the insipid Brian Kennedy. There are no words.

I taped tonight's new episode of Spongebob. I taped it. Do you hear this? I taped it, so I could watch it later. I hope it has Plankton, because he's my favorite. I care about this. It's funny 'cause he's small and maniacal. Funny.

Add to all of the junk that I watch on TV that I have Starbuck's coffe almost every day and listen to movie soundtracks, especially The Scarlet Letter and anything composed by Rachel Portman. Put it all together, and to the casual observer, I am a giant cliche of an underachiever. I spend my time unwisely and am a big, giant, underachieving grump.

Be sure to stay tuned for tomorrow's entry: "Everything is Horrible." It'll be that or, "Why Can't I Get a Decent Glass of Iced Tea?". Depends upon how minute I'm feeling.

And last, a RARE blog P.S.--- Numerous listenings have made me completely enamoured of my gay homeboy Anzej Dezan of Slovenia. If anyone knows how to get that song as an MP3, please let me know. I'm SO not kidding. Maybe it's honest admiration, or maybe just my great love of the Motherland, but I must have that song playing in my car.

If I...

2006-09-09T01:11:00.000-04:00

If I ever have a band
it will be called one of these two things: Six Ways From Sunday or Sleeping Dogs Lie

I will write overly-literal songs about how Winona Ryder kisses all of my boyfriends, and how I don't like meat. Because eating it kills animals, and also, it smells really icky while it cooks. Will you come to my gigs?

Note: if you steal my band names, I will find you and smack you silly. I will actually do much worse. It took me a LONG time to think of and decide uopn those.

If I ever have my own winery
which is unlikely in the oppressive Commonwealth of Pennsylvania, I will call my wine: Miss Maddie's Merry Wine

If I were a pirate
(or, the more likely privateer), my nickname would be "The Black Widow".

If I were a famous journalist
I would refuse to EVER report stories about Hollywood celebrities. But if Emma Thompson had a hangnail, I would break into your regularly scheduled programming. Because she is better than everybody. Despite naming her daughter "Gaia". OY.

If I ever became really, really rich
I would never be mean to poor people, like I am now.

Holy Crap....

2006-08-12T01:31:00.000-04:00

Yeah, OK.

2006-08-08T13:51:00.000-04:00

I suppose this does ring true. Now if I only had the required motivation to make this all work for me...

And now for some more unrealized potential...

To be honest, I'm trying to figure out what I could have gotten wrong on that test, and I want to take it again.

Wow, I'm a real buzzkill today.

David Brent

2006-08-07T20:51:00.000-04:00

If you've never watched the English version of The Office, then don't bother watching this, because it will just seem, well, terrible. If you have watched the show, but you never saw the Christmas Special, prepare to need some Depends Undergarments. This is David Brent's music video. For my money, this is just about as funny as it gets. Ricky Gervais, you are a total genius.

MCFAT!!!!

2006-07-21T01:08:00.000-04:00

Well, Holy Crap, look who's doing a MCFAT! I often read these and think about my answers, but rarely post them. Usually, they require more emotional introspection than this Aquarian is willing to put out. Or else they have comic book stuff about which I know nothing. But this one was too juicy to pass up, so here I go. I can, in no way, be as thorough as Darrell. But I'll give it the old half-assed Willow Crossing try.

1) Friends and family often offer advice or share experiences with the best of intentions, sometimes with the opposite of the desired effect. What are some of your more memorable “you're not helping...” moments?

My mom, who is, in all other respects, an irrepraochably wonderful woman whom I adore, finds herself incapable of NOT telling me, every time I see her, that she does not like what I'm wearing or that I don't look quite right. I could be having a GREAT day: feeling good, enjoying a Starbucks, having just returned from buying an ambitious book at Barnes and Noble, when I meet my mom for lunch. I get a small wave and that "look-over." The look-over is unmistakable. It's that eye motion that tells me that she's feeling disapproval. "What?" say I, knowing the inevitable is to come.

"Nothing," says my mom in a way that is intentionally unconvincing.

"OK, come on, what?" I ask.

"I swear, it's nothing... oh well, that skirt makes you look extremely heavy. It's just not attractive. It's the way it's stretched out. "

Thanks, mom. Thanks. My day is now shot all to hell.

"Mom, please. I'm fine with it. Can we just eat?" (Of course, at this point, I'm no longer fine with it, and feel like I have to hide myself from the entire world until I put on something decent. Shit. 15 minutes ago, I LOVED this skirt! It has some sparkly beads! My top matches! Now I can't even enjoy lunch, because absolutely everyone in the restaurant is looking at me and commenting about how I shouldn't eat this or that, and "Look how fat she looks in that skirt. Is that her mom? Her mom should HELP her avoid these fashion disasters! Wow, that apple fell far from the tree!" They're all saying that. I know it! Judging me. I feel compelled to pull out the wildly scholarly book I just bought and point it out to them, Mr. Bean-style. They don't care. Why would they while I'm wearing this skirt? I don't even deserve to be here, among the good-skirt people.)

Mom adds, helpfully... "Yeah, just forget I said anything. Why do you listen to me anyway?"

"OK. Good. Now let's find a topic other that the way I look."

"Fine. But you could really use some lipstick."

****SIGH****

It's hard to keep up with a mom who does her hair and puts on complete makeup just to get the mail. And no, I'm not exaggerating even slightly.

2) You enjoy this actor's work, but many people just don't get it. Who is it?

Oh, Gary Oldman. If only you would NOTICE me. I alone understand you. I alone know that all you want is a comfy chair and some juice and cookies. You don't have to be SO intense all the time. It's OK. You don't HAVE to morph into Reverend Dimmesdale, Beethoven, Sirius Black, or Doctor Smith. With me, you can just be YOU. I get it. I'll even forgive you for naming your child Gilligan. Or Gulliver. Or whatever. Just come over. I'll make you a nice dinner and we can sit and watch The Discovery Channel and not get drunk.

3) In general, when it comes to movies, are originals better than remakes, or vice versa? Feel free to cite examples that support either or both positions.

Hmmmm.....

I'm giving only one example. Pride and Prejudice has been made OVER AND OVER again, and for me only one version holds up AT ALL, and it is the 1995 Colin Firth/Jennifer Ehle BBC version. It's the only one long enough to fully flesh out the book. It's the only one with an acceptable sort of Elizabeth Bennett. And, without doubt, it has the sexiest (only sexy) Fitzwilliam Darcy. It's also the only one with a truly funny Mr. Collins, a truly crazy Mrs. Bennet, and a truly smarmy Mr. Wickham. It leaves all others in the dust. And no amount of cinematography , no matter how fantastic, will convince me otherwise.

So, in this case, the middle child was best.

But I lied. I have another example. The Japanese Shall We Dance vs. its American remake starring The Repulsives (Richard Gere and Susan Sarandon). OK, the original was FAR superior in both form and function. In Japan, a man taking dancing lessons is truly shocking. I've seen Gere dance before. Not shocking. Also, not pleasant. I've also seen him "act" in the craptastic First Knight, which means I'll never be able to take him seriously, ever, ever, ever. Let's face it, he's no Dimitry. (swoon). And Susan Sarandon is too worldly, too indignant, and just too un-Japanese to make this thing work. One point for the original.

4) If it were scientifically possible to live on any other planet in our solar system, through the development of faster-than-light travel and genetic enhancements or protective suits, which planet would you choose to live on?

I would choose to live on Uranus, and not for its comedic value. It just seems to have such a pretty color, and it is the ruling planet of Aquarius. So presumably, I would feel at home there. I would, of course, have to stock up on L.L. Bean Cold Weather Gear, though.

5) Who would win in a war: Hobbits or Smurfs?

Hobbits, hands down. I think Smurfs are way smaller, and they are also really kinda gay.

SPECIAL BONUS QUESTION: The year is 1985; who is Flora?

Not sure, but I did have a flower stuffed animal named "Floribunda." So I'll go with that.

Thanks, MCF!

Oh, my.

2006-07-02T18:47:00.000-04:00

What's Happening in the Motherland?

As some of you know, both sides of my family are primarily of Slovenian extraction. I have been to Slovenia, and it is truly a magnificent place that is most noted for not being Slovakia. But, obviously, something has gone very, very wrong. I give you Anzej Dezan, Slovenia's entry for the 2006 Eurovision competition. A country of vineyards, alps, castles and some of the most spectacular scenery in Europe, not to mention a very tough brand of people, has given the world Mr. Nobody. I've gotta get back there and find out what's gone wrong.

Superman GBU

2006-06-29T22:51:00.000-04:00

I have just returned from the Superman IMAX 3D experience. I am in no mood to give a well-though-out review for several reasons. It's late and I want to go and watch another movie right now, and it just doesn't warrant a full review. So here's what I'm thinking. I am going to patent a special brand of Willow Crossing Movie Review, that I will use from now on. This special new format will tell you everything you need to know regarding my visceral reactions to movies, without the annoying need to plod through my pathetic attempts at segues. I am going to call it "Willow's The Good, The Bad, and The Ugly." It will be in convenient list format.

*****SPOILER WARNING*****

Willow's The Good, The Bad, and The Ugly :

Superman Returns in IMAX 3D

The Good...

Visually stunning.
Brandon Routh is very much the Superman you want to see, with all the gawkish Clark Kent goodness, but perhaps a little less masculine than Christopher Reeve, but also better-looking.
It lacked Margot Kidder, who always played Lois too harsh for me.
Nifty special effects and gimmicks a la The Matrix.
Kevin Spacey.
Good, old-fashioned movie fun.
For what it's worth, the parts that were in the 3D kicked butt, even if the glasses on/glasses off routine was a bit of a distraction.
Occasional funny moments.

The Bad...

A plot with about as much structural integrity as the Tacoma Narrows Bridge.
Parker Posey, who I normally ADORE, played it pretty stiff. I can't blame her for this. It must be Bryan Singer's fault. When a good actor goes bad, one has to take a look at the director. I can't help but wonder what my beloved Chris Nolan would have done with this movie. His take on Batman was so bucking frilliant. I'd love to hear some thoughts on this.
Superman being given oxygen in the hospital? Perhaps you experts out there can clear this up for me, but why would they give Superman oxygen? Doesn't he, like, totally go out into space and stuff? For that matter, my advice would be to ax the entire Superman in the hospital part. It worked even less than the rest of the story.
Pandering, cliched emotional moments. One wee tear in the eye of Kate Bosworth as she writes a story entitled "Why the World Needs Superman." YAWN. Or is this just my X-treme emotional repression showing? See the film, then you tell me.
The airplane scene is almost DIRECTLY out of my recurring nightmares. Who's been in my brain?
Really kinda gay. Yep. Gay. Lemme put it this way: I think that, if I were a gay man, I would see this movie 67.8 times in the theatre. It's hard to explain, but you'll understand once you see it. Seeing as I'm straight, and a girl, I have seen Batman Begins that many times.

The Ugly...

Perhaps it's just paranoia, but I couldn't help but wince at this line: "Does he still stand for truth, justice, and all that other stuff?" Now, I am no blind patriot, but has "The American Way" suddenly become filthy language? I think that maybe in Hollywood, it has. They didn't have any problem with "It's a bird. It's a plane. It's Superman." No, that bugged me. They also showed gratuitous footage of Superman saving people at the Eiffel Tower and other world locations. OK, that's fine. But it looked like it was thrown in there in a preachy sort of way. Again, I may just be paranoid, but is anything allowed to be all-American anymore? It's Superman, for cryin' out loud. OK. Done now.

Overall, I give it 3.5 out of 5 Willow Switches. (I'll have to develop a graphic for this.) And that's saying something, especially given how much I prefer Batman. Now see it and tell me what you think.

Incontrovertible & Random

2006-06-23T02:00:00.000-04:00

FACT:
Superman may be able to kick Batman's ass, but if he did, it would only be because he was jealous of Batman's FAR superior level of cool.

FACT:
Similarly, in a fair space battle, Picard could wipe the floor with Mal Reynolds, but, as above, it would only be out of spite.

FACT:
The fact that I've considered these things puts me in the ranks of the geekiest chicks on Planet Earth. Not at the top, I suspect, but definitely in there somewhere.

FACT:
The hottest movie characters are rich men who put on fake accents and lead double lives. I give you: The aforementioned Batman, Thomas Crown, and The Count of Monte Cristo. Extra points for hotness if your motive for leading the double life is revenge.

FACT:
Jim Cantore, I will have your job, eventually. Watch your back, you hot weather dude. I, alone, will be queen of the fluttering on-air windbreaker.

FACT:
I saw a midget wearing a shirt that said, "I'm big in Japan." That is funny on so many levels that I cannot even begin to enumerate them. 1000 cool points to that guy.

FACT:
I have not eaten a "food" product from McDonald's for over 17 years. I have gone in to use the bathroom, though. I usually buy a pop, then, because I feel guilty. More often than not, it's a Sprite. Sprite has no caffeine. The fact that it is 2:30 AM as I write this is evidence of why that is so important to me. I had some tea tonight. Idiot!

FACT:
Coke tastes better than Pepsi. I make no claims regarding the "diet" versions of these beverages.

FACT:
In nocturnal, quiet moments alone, when nobody is looking, when I'm absolutely SURE noobody is looking, I will drink wine out of a box and listen to Against All Odds by Phil Collins. If there were enough wine involved, I could even get misty over that insipid, pandering schlock. Let's not even talk about Total Eclipse of the Heart.

FACT:
Jane Austen, without ever knowing it, kicked the ass of every Bronte (I apologize, but I am far too tired to place the umlaut. It is arguably frivolous anyway.) who ever took pen to paper. Oh, sure, Edward Rochester is dark, mysterious, and sexy, but he's sure no Darcy or Wentworth. I wonder why "repressed" beats out "brooding" every time. Perhaps it's because the brooders would end up being really high-maintenance, and no girl wants a guy more sensitive than she.

FACT:
Ellen DeGeneres and I share a birthday, though several years apart. I would love to have a beer with her to celebrate. As a consolation prize, I would gladly party with any of my other birthday mates: Paul Newman, Mario Lemieux, or Eddie Van Halen. Of the three, I'd choose Paul.

FACT:
Regarding my last post, so long ago, I now use iTunes exclusively, and I have even purchased an iPod. I love them both.

FACT:
The cutest Disney animal of all time is Meeko.

FACT:
In the 18th century, they had no Dixie Cups. Dispute it if you dare.

FACT:
I just got back from a week of camping. A real shower never felt so good. A camp shower just can't compare. But the noise of the 'burbs is already getting to me. Re-entry sucks.

FACT:
I have good, self-absorbed, reasons for not having blogged in so long. I have been reading all your blogs, but have remained relatively silent. For this, I apologize. I have decided that major world news items are too much for me, and politics, too aggravating and anger-inducing. I have chosen to resume my blogging in an enitirely self-serving manner and stick to what I know, and what doesn't get me all upset: Stupid Crap. You may have surmised this from the above.

FACT:
I'm now, finally, hitting the sack.

iTunes?

2006-02-20T15:37:00.000-05:00

OK, I'm about to reveal my deplorable inability to keep up with all things iPod and stuff, but I need some advice. I am thinking about downloading iTunes, on accounta I want some of the stuff they've got there, I think. The question is, do I want this? Will this take over my computer in some sinister fashion? If you have used iTunes, do you have any comments or suggestions? If I download a song from them, can I play it on my non-Apple mp3 player? I fear.

Feast

2006-02-16T14:27:00.001-05:00

For Valentine's Day, John and I went out to dinner at a place I had been absolutely dying to try for many moons. "Eleven" is one of the very elegant offerings from the Big Burrito Restaurant Group, of which we are big fans. Not only because their restaurants offer much in the way of veggie fare, but also because they are creative, fun, and delicious.

At the end of the dinner, I quickly determined that I had just eaten the best meal of my entire life. Here's the deal: John is a big carnivore and I am pretty close to being a complete vegetarian. But I do love good food. I'll indulge in the OCCASIONAL seafood, but really, not very often. BUT, whenever we go out to eat, John is typically ogling my dinner and not as pleased with his steak as he thought he would be. This is because chefs who take vegetarian cuisine seriously (and they are FEW - especially in Pittsburgh) really reach out and come up with new flavors. So, very often, I find John picking off of my plate and looking jealous. So on V-Day, he decided to order with me instead of against me, and we both had the "Chef's Vegetarian Tasting Dinner." I was SO pleased to find out this even existed. And we decided to have the wine pairings as well. So, six courses, five wines.

First Course: Puree of Yukon Gold potato with creme fraiche (I believe) paired with a Prosecco.

Second Course: Golden Beet Carpaccio with lentils, paired with the same Prosecco.

Third Course: Artichoke hearts stuffed with quinoa and provencale vegetables, paired with Conundrum, AKA my favorite white wine.

Fourth Course: Gratin of oyster mushrooms with a frisee salad, paired PERFECTLY with one of the finer Pinot Noirs I've ever tasted. This was John's favorite course.

Fifth Course: Chestnut fettucine over celery root puree and topped with shaved black truffles, paired with a good Merlot. I was suspicious of this, but the combination of flavors was incredible.

Sixth Course: Chocolate lover's fantasy - a homemade brownie covered with chocolate fondue sauce and a chocolate pot au creme, paired with a Banfi sparkling RED. Oh man, this was good.

There really are no words. I usually find myslef at a loss to order anything in most restaurants, and here I found myself in heaven. Top-notch vegetarian cuisine does not come around often, and certainly not around here. The service was impeccable and the atmosphere a delight. (Even the A-hole talking loudly on her cell phone right at the next table failed to bother me - much.) Big Burrito comes through again. This must be the best restaurant in the 'burgh.

But, there is a weird and kinda sad ending to this evening. As we left the restaurant, practically coked up from the sheer indulgence of this dinner, the street was lined with protesters holding signs calling for the boycott of foie gras. At this vegetarian nirvana! I was SO upset by this. These are my people, after all, and I agree with them. Probably not on much else, but on this, you BET! I didn't see foie gras on the menu. My euphoria was a little shattered because I felt like I had betrayed my OWN CAUSE, just a little, by eating there. I wanted to tell them that they should protest elsewhere because these were as close to being good guys as there are. Go protest Atria's! They don't even offer a meatless salad for crying out loud!

So, our heavenly date was slightly tainted for me. And that kinda sucks because we don't have evenings like that very often. But I highly recommend Eleven, anyway. I know I'll go back sooner rather than later.

Picture Meme

2006-02-16T13:05:00.000-05:00

Hat tip to both Darrell and Wendy. I couldn't resist the picture blog. Just too much fun.

The town where I grew up...

The town in which I currently reside...

My name...
Weird thing about this one. The photographer shares my name, and the photo is of a "blessing of the animals" held at Saint Francis of Assissi parish, somewhere. What's weird is that I took my confirmation name, which is now my official middle name, Frances, after St. Francis, because of his love of animals. I just thought that was kinda cool.

My grandmother's name...

My favorite food (du jour)...

Favorite drinks (I had to pick 2)...

My favorite smell...

My Favorite song...

Unsportsmanlike Blogging from Kristine

2006-02-05T22:58:00.000-05:00

To all of you sayers of nay. To all of you who debated me on this simple truth. Now you know. I was right then, I'm right now, and when it comes to Bill "god of the gridiron" Cowher, I WILL ALWAYS BE RIGHT!

IN YOUR FACE, WHINERS!

IN YOUR COWERING ANTI-COWHER FACES!

You know who you are, and don't even try to jump on this bandwagon now. It just left without you. BYE!

Man, that's just about the best thing I've ever seen in my life. You know, except for those first four.

Roll Over, Jane

2006-02-02T13:51:00.000-05:00

Lorna, Kelly, I hope you two noticed that Kiera Knightley was nominated for an Oscar for Pride and Prejudice. Even you two agreed that she did not deserve this much. I have decided that if she wins, I will move to Hollywood and make an Oscar-winning career out of insipid grinning. Because, apparently, you can do that now. Oh, the pain.

Brokeback Southcon

2006-02-01T14:41:00.000-05:00

I almost never link to posts from other blogs, mostly because I'm generally too lazy. But this post is too good, too hilarious, too brilliant, and too on-the-money for me to ignore. Darrell, you are my hero du jour. Now, everybody, go and learn something about westerns and gay cowboys.

Calm Before the Storm

2006-02-01T11:02:00.000-05:00

Those of you who have read my blog from the beginning may be wondering where a certain type of commentary is. You may remember that last year, I spent a large amount of blog time in the defense of a certain professional football coach from Pittsburgh who shall, at this time, still remain nameless. I shall not mention his name because of my stupid superstitions. I haven't said his name so far, and look where we are. I haven't posted his picture this year. So I won't start now. But just you wait. The mysterious and omnipotent god of the gridiron will be featured very heavily, and very soon, much to the pesumable dismay of certain naysayers who may or may not still read this blog.

From LAST November, lest anyone forget.

In other news, I will be forgoing vegetarianism for just one day, and it will be this Sunday, because of a certain unmentionable event. At the request of my better half, I will be whipping up a huge batch of my famous hot sausage. And ain't no way I'm not going to indulge in a little of that fabtastic taste sensation. Look out, innocent animals. I'll be on the loose for just one day. Nobody is safe. Least of all my stomach.

Funny!

2006-01-12T11:18:00.000-05:00

It does my heart good to see some of our brave troops in Iraq taking time out for serious comedy. This really made me laugh. From the boys of the 1-148 Field Artillery.

Liar

2006-01-06T12:43:00.000-05:00

Here's what I wonder: I wonder what would happen if I were hit with some magic spell (or drug) that made me be completely honest for 24 hours. Just like Jim Carey in Liar, Liar. What WOULD happen? What would I say? Would my aches and pains and subsequent EXTREME hypochondria go away? I'll bet they would. Would my husband ever speak to me again? I don't know. What if it lasted for a year? Would I be the most hated woman in Pittsbrugh or a folk hero? No idea. But I do feel certain that the following phrases would come positively BURSTING out of my mouth at some point, some to one specific person, some to several:

***WARNING - I will now revel in adult language. I'm sure that with the truth serum, I would curse up a storm.***

1. "Shut the fuck up, you ignorant blowhard. You live in a fantasy world." (replaces: "that's an intersting way of looking at it.")

2. "Holy shit. I can't believe that you think you're clever." (replaces: polite laughter)

3. "Leave the poor woman alone, you sanctimonious, smug, judgemental son of a bitch." (replaces: "Yes, she IS in a handicapped spot.")

4. "If you could shut your gigantic yapper for three seconds, you might be able to learn something." (replaces: "I don't think you quite understood my point.")

5. "Take your screaming children the hell out of this restaurant you selfish bitch. This is not your personal romper room. Grown-ups are trying to relax. And by the way, I think your children are rude, dumb, and ugly." (replaces: "Excuse me waitress, is there another table available?")

6. "You know, the only thing worse than being a sneaky, lying asshole is not being very good at it. You have clearly underestimated the depths of my intelligence." (replaces: "Sure, that's fine. Just call me when you're ready to reschedule!")

7. "Get the hell out of my way, ass. You're sucking my life away one second at a time." (replaces: "Oh, no, by all means, go ahead.")

8. "Your promises aren't worth the toilet paper they're written on. Just because I don't say it doesn't mean I don't know exactly who you are." (replaces: "Hey, no worries!")

9. "No more discussion, it's going to be my way. I'm right and you're nuts." (replaces: "OK, that's another approach.")

10. "Fuck you." (replaces: "Hi.")

I think the pain in my shoulder is a little less severe for having written this down. Thanks for indulging me, patient readers! This whole thing is making me think that perhaps I'm a little TOO non-confrontational and wussy. Maybe I should get SOMETHING out ONCE IN A WHILE.

Tagged

2006-01-05T10:03:00.000-05:00

Vyvyan, I've just received this meme-o.

I have been tagged by Name Hidden.

Four jobs you've had in your life:
The weirdest ones were: Lab Technician at PPG, wherein I investigated new chemicals for paper recycling. My job was to make paper every day, all day. It was really interesting for about a week. High school Physics teacher. Meat slicer at the Shop 'n' Save Deli. Marketing Coordinator for GAI Consultants. This was the most uncomfortable job of my entire life, and I only lasted a year. If I started ranting about THIS company, I'd need a whole separate blog. This was the job that convinced me, finally, that self-employment was my only option. It is also probably responsible for at least 40% of my current misanthropy. Fighting... urge.... to.... start.... RAAAANNNNTING!

Four movies you could watch over and over:
Real Genius (How embarrassing, but I DO watch it over and over. It's light and it makes me laugh every time.) Persuasion (Captain Wentworth, take me away! Seriously. Please.) The LOTR Trilogy (Counts as one. Sue me.) To Kill a Mockingbird (Grgory Peck at his sexiest. I love him.)

Four places you've lived:
Pittsburgh, PA. Latrobe, PA. Morgantown, WV. Export, PA. I've never moved very far. But I have travelled!

Four TV shows you love to watch:
The Office (Any version. See 4th job, above). M*A*S*H (Any time, any place, any season, I love it. I think Hawkeye Pierce might be the only liberal I could ever love.) American Idol (Again, sue me.) Buffy the Vampire Slayer (Of course.)

Four places you've been on vacation:
Kill Devil Hills, NC. The British Isles (London, The West Country, Stonehenge and Dublin). The Alps (Slovenia, Austria, Germany). Las Vegas (Viva!)

Four websites you visit daily:
Many of my blogroll, Pogo (games), Merriam-Webster Online, Weather Channel (I'm a gold member. I'm geek. I'm wearing a Weather Channel hat right now.)

Four of your favorite foods:
Pasta Marinara (My own - would you believe it?). Dalawi from Aladdin's Eatery in Squirrel Hill (Vegetarian stuffed grape leaves. So tangy. So delicious.) Portobella and Tofu Fajitas from Mad Mex (Again, so tangy, so sizzly, so spicy.) Snow Crab Legs (if they are done in a steamer, by someone who knows how to handle seafood properly. But I admit it, a good crab leg lets me get out my inner cavewoman. I like to snap them and dip them and eat them. I like to grunt while I do this. I like to pound the table and make guttural noises when I'm ready for another beer. Then I go back to tofu and civility.)

Four places you'd rather be:
See vacation spots, above. Add Hawaii.

Four albums you can't live without:
Crikey, I dunno. There are so many.

Four+ to pass this meme along to:
Darrell, Wendy, Lorna

Merry Christmas

2005-12-21T15:22:00.000-05:00

Merry Christmas, you big bunch of Nancy Boys.

Love, Spike

All Very Vexing

2005-12-08T10:39:00.000-05:00

Once again, I am borrowing NH's format such that I may efficiently list ten things that are vexing me today, without the need for pesky segues.

1. The Pittsburgh area is currently expecting 3-7 inches of snow to accumulate this evening, and the local news stations are acting as though we are about to endure something apocalyptic. Need I remind you people that this is Pittsburgh, and this is winter, and this is what we DO in Pittsburgh during the winter? We're used to this! Come on! Grow a pair! Furthermore, I fully expect to encounter massive lines at the local Giant Eagle this afternoon. Frightened, shifty-eyed suburbanites will nervously clutch their milk and bread and pray they get home before the onslaught begins. I am absolutely convinced that during every snow "storm" 90% of Pittsburghers sit trembling and sheepishly eating small bits of bread at the window, rising only to get some milk to wash it down with, as they wait to die from a few wee flakes. I, for one, never buy either milk or bread. But I know that tonight, I will feel compelled to do so.

2. The leading Grammy nominees are Kanye West and Mariah Carey. Oh, music, what has happened to you? Where have you gone?

3. Speaking of music, Queen (the venerable greatest rock band of all time) is now touring with Paul Rodgers as lead singer. This is extremely vexing. I do not exaggerate when I call myself a Queen Scholar. They were my first favorite band. The first thing I did on my first trip to London at 13-years-old was find the fan club office. I hung out for half that day with Freddie's (at the time) live-in grilfriend. (Yeah, he was bi, and YES he did have a live-in grilfriend. One who was very sweet.) I love them. They are the fab four to me. I have every published piece of Queen music, as well as autographs. I own the vinyl. My great regret: I never got to see them live. You can pretend that there is a better rock singer than Freddie Mercury, but that would be a lame fantasy. So, again, here they are touring sans Freddie. Tickets go one sale for the Pittsburgh show on Saturday. I will go, to be sure, but it will be a bittersweet moment. I will finally see Brian, Roger, and John. But there will be no Freddie. When the concert is over, I will still say that I have never seen Queen live.

4. I have oodles of work that I should be doing instead of writing this treatise on minutiae.

5. My husband has the annoying habit of making me hate everything I used to like. Example: Buffy. First he made fun of me for liking it. Now, he makes me watch it so much that I'm sick of it. He did this with several Metallica and Freddie Mercury's Barcelona albums, and I was forced to ban the playing of these in my presence. Now I've had to do the same with Buffy. I have now banned Buffy in my presnce until February 1, 2006. Spike Doll, however, gets to stay. I got him a little Santa hat. Pictures are forthcoming.

6. The Office (also known as the funniest half-hour on TV right now) is still having trouble getting the ratings. Wake the hell up, people, and watch this show! I need, desperately, for it to continue for a few good seasons. I wait for it all week. Steve Carrell. Dwight Schrute the Beet Farmer. Karate moves. Todd F. Packer's mistletoe pants. What more do you need? How much must I GIVE? GOSH!!!!

7. Two words: chapped lips. And with lips like mine, that's a lot of chapping. No amount of grease, salve, ointment, or cream (eeeew to all those words) seems to avert the problem.

8. People who come into my store, pick up a delicate, exquisite piece of raku pottery and say, "Ew, this is ugly." You know what? NO POTTERY FOR YOU! Get out! Ignorant cretins. If owning this store has taught me anything, it's that there's a real good reason you can't find art in the 'burbs. Thank heaven for the enlightened souls who see beauty in that which is born of earth, formed by human hands, and baptized in fire. You know, cause then it makes a nice potpourri holder.

9. This store is opening in the same plaza as my store. Note the similar front-page pictures. While I believe it is their right to be in this business, I wish like hell it wasn't going in two doors down from me. Try to imagine the sorts of folks I will see in the lot. I really want to kick my landlord's ass for this.

10. I canot find a decent box of Chritsmas cards to save my soul. Call me wacky, but I want my cards to say "Merry Christmas." (Not "Let it Snow" or "Season's Greetings") I also want them to look pretty. I was even willing to buy the expensive Hallmarks, and so far, I've come up empty. I'd better find some tonight.

Pride and Prejudice

2005-12-07T12:01:00.000-05:00

As requested by Kelly, I am posting, FINALLY, my own review of this movie. I'll tell you up front that I am feeling bad right from the get-go because I am going to disagree with Kelly on virtually every point. At least 75% of them. Sorry. But here it is:

When I walked into the theatre, I sat down with the full intention to watch the movie as I do the Harry Potter films: as though I'd never heard of these characters before, as though I'd never read the books. It's the only fair way. This, admittedly, is very hard to do, but I feel it is the only way to approach something like this, especially my beloved Jane Austen. So I tried. I took an open mind.

But it was difficult to contain my anger. Most of my complaints stem from the fact that the movie is impossibly short for the story. We never see the hilariuously sycophantic Mr. Collins in his full glory. The Lydia/Wickham story line is glossed over and resolved so quickly that to the uninitiated, this unfortunate alliance would appear nothing more than an inconvenience, easily rectified. In actuality, it is a major family tragedy with the potential to ruin many lives. All of the humor sucked out until it was dry as a bone. So is the social commentary, which is one of the most important aspects of any Jane Austen work. Unlike Kelly, I did not think that Darcy became likeable too soon. I thought he barely became likeable at all. This is truly sad because I thought that Matthew McFadyen was very very right for the part. I liked him a great deal, when they gave me a chance. They used Judi Dench like a bit player, and stole away all of Lady Catherine's juciest stuff. I thought Brenda Blethyn played Mrs. Bennet WAY too sane, and therefore, boring. I'm ambivalent about Donald Sutherland. I was disgusted by this casting, but then thought he was acceptable. They certainly made him look cool, but more on that later. I was really digging the guy who played Mr. Bingley and thought he was a standout. I also thought that Rosamund Pike was a reasonably good Jane Bennet. I'm certain they both would have been much better had the direction not been so self-serving.

Most emphatically, I must say that I thought that Kiera Knightley was real, real bad. I thought that she stole her whole demeanor from Jennifer Ehle and then pumped it up until it was completely unbelieveable. I felt nothing. Nothing. For me, there was barely a hint of feeling between Elizabeth and Darcy. If she wins an Oscar for this movie, I will eat glass while Jane Austen rolls in her grave. In fact, I will immediately fly to England and lay flowers of apology at the feet of Jane Austen.

Finally, the blatant emotional manipulation of the director was too much to bear. The haunting sunrise, the swelling music, the morning mist. I was sure I had been transplanted to a Harlequin or a commercial for womens' deodorant. Ever have that not-so-fresh feeling?

Now, here's the shocker: I truly recommend that everyone see this movie. Why? Because for real, the cinematography, art direction, locations, and general "look" of the movie were outstanding. No, not just outstanding, absolutely freakin' brilliant. Of all adaptations of all Jane Austen novels ever, this one is the earthiest, realest, and most gorgeous. Every scene, especially the exteriors, was a visual feast. It made me want to sit under the tree and eat an apple, and smell the moss and the dirt and even the sheep. And believe it or not, I may suffer through the script one more time just to SEE this film on the big screen one more time. A-MAZING.

And so there you have it.

Yours &c.
Kristine

Back, and Grumpier than Ever

2005-11-30T16:43:00.000-05:00

Well, my friends and dear readers, it has been a long time. By way of explanation, my excuse is as follows: Ever put off something for so long that it just gets harder and harder to get going? Ever avoided emailing a friend for so long that doing it now just seems absurd? Well, that's where I've been living. I can't tell you all how many times I've sat down to type up a little something, statred, and then just thought, "No. It's too much." I've had so much to say, so much that I've been pissed off about, that actually writing it all down felt like climbing a mountain. Things have been crazy at the store, my schedule is insane, but I've missed this, and intend to jump back into the fray, not by typing all of my grievances at once, but by returning to my time-honored nitpicking, overstating, understating, oversimplifying, and generally irritating all who drop by. I am not so deluded as to think you've all been pining away for me. But I hope you've missed me just a teensy bit, as I have missed many of you. I want to especially thank Lorna, who wrote me. And Darrell and MCF who dropped by the blog to type confuzzled hellos. I appreciate it.

And so on with the bullshit.

Sony

2005-08-25T12:14:00.000-04:00

This was going to be a comment on Kelly's Tech Support post, but it was too long, so I made it a post on my own blog.

I once fried my hard drive. I called Sony support, as I was still under full warranty. I'll never forget this one. The conversation went like this:

ME: Well, I seem to have fried my hard drive.

GEEK: (chuckling) Now, let's not jump to conclusions! First, is the computer plugged in?

ME: Yeah, um, listen, I'm pretty well versed in computer stuff, so I, no offense, think we can dispense with all of the idiot questions. I can tell it's the drive because it is making a horrible noise when it attempts to read and write. (thinking: much like you, I imagine.)

GEEK: (as if I'd never spoken) Now, let's turn the computer on and see what happens.

ME: OK, I know what will happen. It will sound like a wookie in a meat grinder, and will do nothing.

GEEK: Let's try turning on the computer now.

ME: (defeated) OK.

GEEK: Have you turned it on?

ME: Yes. It's making a wookie noise, as I've said, and the screen is the monitor's default screen. It says "no signal."

GEEK: Hmmmm. OK, then let's go to the Control Panel. Go to the START button on the lower..

ME: No, we cannot. See, the computer will not boot. Look, I'm not trying to be rude, but can we step away from the script now and have a conversation?

GEEK: So the computer will not boot? Not at all? What are you seeing on the screen?

ME: No, it will not. The screen says, "No signal." That's the monitor talking. You see, the monitor is waiting for something from the computer. Something the computer just can't give it. Ever have that feeling?

GEEK: Let's turn off the computer now.

ME: Did already.

GEEK: It sounds to me like your hard drive may be down.

ME: (now at John Cleese-level deadpan) Really. What tipped you off?

GEEK: Now, I'm checking our stock. We have those backordered right now and it will be six to eight weeks, but we'll get a replacement out to you. A service rep will call you when we have the part. Let's get your serial number so we can get the process started. Look on the back of your computer...

ME: No, I'm sorry, I will not. How is it, how, that a computer company could be backordered on hard drives? This seems incomprehensible to me. I mean, you guys like MAKE computers. Computers which will not work without this essential component. Six weeks, nay six hours is too long for you guys to be out of hard drives. What, I ask you, am I supposed to do for six to eight weeks without a computer?

GEEK: Please calm down. There's nothing I can do until you give me your serial number. Let's look at the back of the computer...

ME: No. NO. Let me speak with your manager.

GEEK: He will tell you the same thing that I am...

ME: OK. Let me tell you how this is going to happen. I'm going to disconnect my computer right now and take it to Best Buy, where I purchased it. I will have them put in a new hard drive today and bill Sony.

GEEK: I'm afraid that's not the way your service plan works.

ME: Starting today, it does. Trust me.

GEEK: Well good luck, and your incident number is 654-143647-M

ME: M? As in moron?

GEEK: Yes, M as in Mary.

ME: Thank you. You've been a tremendous help.

GEEK: Thank you for calling Sony.

Cut to Best Buy. I am standing at the counter, peering into the smug, dead eyes of one of their technicians.

ME: (speaking as quickly as possible to make sure I get it all out) So, here's the thing. I've fried my hard drive. I KNOW for certain that it is fried because the computer will not boot. When it tries to boot, it makes this sound: Booooorrrrrrrrhpppp! boooooorrrrrrrhpppp! The Sony dude agreed that it was a dead hard drive. I want a new one put in under the terms of my warranty. Sony is backordered, and so they have violated the contract into which we entered, together. They cannot hold up their end of the bargain by sending a service guy to my house within 48 hours. Therefore, I need you to do this for me. I have brought the machine to you. Please replace the hard drive, and bill Sony for it. Here's my receipt.

BB GUY: (plugs it in and puts ear to case) That's a fried hard drive alright. (looks at my receipt) We have this problem with Sony sometimes. Give us four hours?

ME: Yes. Four hours. I love you, you know.

BB GUY: Yeah, I get that alot.

I love ya, DA BURGH.

2005-08-19T11:40:00.000-04:00

I have commented on other blogs, and I admit that I do get miffed when I hear Pittsburghers complain about Pittsburgh. I often think that if all of the people who complained about it would half as much energy into improving it, it would be a much nicer place. I'm not saying I don't have issues with it as well. So, first, the good news:

Pittsburgh has all of the cultural benefits of a bigger city: great theatre, a world class symphony, an opera, and a ballet. If you do not choose to take advantage of these opportunities, that is not the city's fault. Theatre seats can be had for a song, if you know how to go about it. For a city of our size, I would say we have quite a nice selection of productions and venues. For myself, I like The Public and PICT (Pittsburgh Irish and Classical Theatre). I also subscribe to Symphony with a Splash. It's super-cheap, the programs have really cool themes (works by certifiably insane composers, music about weather) and they give you a spread of pre-show snacks that amounts to dinner. It's one of the best entertainment deals going.

We have three major league sports teams. The Steelers. Need I say more? If you've never been to a Steeler game on a crisp fall day, if you've never smelled the barbecue wafting out of Gate A of Heinz Field, if you've never warmed up in The Great Hall and made fun of Bob Pompeani behind his back, if you've never tried to call your friend across the stadium, thinking for a minute you might really be able to wave to her, if you've never tailgated next to a drunk guy named "Stush" who kept trying to kiss you, and if you've never been there when the Steelers take the field to a deafening crowd roar, then my friend, you've never BEEN to Pittsburgh. I don't want to hear it. I don't care whether you like football or not. This is not about football.

Now, in spite of all of these big-city perks, we suffer few of the big-city ailments. Our crime rate is relatively low and the traffic, while annoying, is not as bad as that of larger cities. And because we are smaller, and a little bit behind the trendy, opportunity abounds. Every fresh idea is eaten up by the younger (and younger-at-heart) folks around here. I'm now making my living off of this little fact. When there are many voids, YOU have the chance to fill them.

The stuffy, pretentious art world in Pittsburgh is less stuffy than in other cities. A young artist here will have a far better chance of getting a showing than in other places. And, even if you, dear reader, think this is minor, the busy galleries in town and the artists do not.

Even if you live in the far west part of the city, you need only to drive for an hour to reach the Laurel Highlands. Ligonier, Somerset, Mount Davis, Linn Run, Ohiopyle. These are beautiful places for picnics, camping, or autumn foliage drives. There are wineries to visit, apple cider to sip, and caves to explore. What more do you want?

Here's a fact that many native Pittsburghers don't even know: You know those fish sandwiches you get at firehalls and local bars? The ones bigger than your head? Guess what. That's ONLY in Pittsburgh. Next time you are in another city, order a fish sandwich and see what you get.

Take all of that, add in some pretty friendly locals, some nifty ethnic nieghborhoods, and a very unique dialect, so thick that you could use it as "code speak" in other towns, and you've got a burgh.

As if all of that wasn't enough, I have a few more words for you:

Mineo's Pizza
Mad Mex
East End Food Co-Op
Carnegie Museum
Dinosaur Exhibit!
The view when you exit the Fort Pitt Tunnel
The game of "Spot the Wiseguy."
Eide's Records and Comic Books
The Church Brew Works
Penn Brewery
Carnegie Library System (so efficient!)
Three Rivers Arts Festival

Now that I'm tired of typing, I'll let the oversimplification begin. What's wrong with Pittsburgh? Two words: Tom Murphy. How did he get there? How did he get elected again? Is it his personal mission to make Pittsburgh as inhospitable and uncomfortable for businesses and commuters as he possibly can? Get him and his cronies the hell out of here, and we may just have a chance.

A lot of what else is bad has more to do with the state "government" than the local. I have much to say on this, and a big, impossible plan to do something about it. As I've said before, you're all coming with me. But that's for another post, another day.

In the meantime, I do love ya, da Burgh!

Dateline...Ocracoke

2005-08-03T01:27:00.000-04:00

Oh, Lawdy. How I wish I could blog some photos right now. But it seems unlikely at this time. You will have to rely upon my miserable writing to help you feel my angst and joy. With no further ado, I borrow shamelessly from Name Hidden, and give you the ten things I learned on vacation this year. Admittedly, vacation is not over yet, but a close is drawing near, and I wax pensive, and also just a little drunk.

1. A girl like me should never leave the house without the following items: wine, folding chairs, a knitting basket, the big bag of watercolor supplies, and chocolate.

2. I have a sinister, secretive side. I am fantasizing relentlessly about buying a very modest beach home without the knowledge of my husband. One never knows when one might need to escape. If you've read my blog before, you know my toothbrush is already packed.

3. The Outer Banks of North Carolina are truly the opposite of every other beach. Other beaches get more hotels. The OBX get hotels being torn down to build houses. Life is good.

4. I will never be happy until I've had a high-seas adventure.

5. I am completely turned on by the disparate and unpredictable moods of the ocean. You go to bed and there's no wind, and the sea is calm. You wake up to blue water, choppy white waves, and a brisk onshore wind. Heaven. I am totally into the fact that right at this very moment, I am listening to the ocean and typing on my laptop. Each and every night, I am moved almost to tears, by the simple smell of salt air. I was never meant to be a landlubber. This trip is so important to me each year that I mentally keep track by it. In my mind, the year is about to end.

6. Tomorrow night, I have reservations for a sail aboard The (schooner) Downeast Rover. We will sail the same waters as Sir Walter Raleigh. I am actually nervous about it because it may be TOO MUCH LIKE KRISSY FANTASY WORLD. I hope I recover. Real sails, wildly historic waters. DOOMED.

7. On a mundane note, it has become clear to me that I need to give the hell in and get a mouth guard for hopeless tooth-grinders. I gnash day and night, and something needs to be done, lest I become a toothless old hag. My dentist told me that she could see "the wear facets"starting to develop. I thought that sounded nice. Now I see that it is not. I'm giving myself headaches. I'm doing it right now.

8. Ocracoke lighthouse is the oldest on the OBX. HA! I knew it! Take that, Cape Hatteras, you big thunder-stealer! You think that just because you're bigger, you can beat up on everyone. But I'm not buying!

9. A person who is 90% vegetarian should not have a field day by eating a whole pound of crab legs. One who is not used to such things cannot digest them. One gets ill effects. One's stomach makes absurd noises. One gets real bad gas. I'm glad this never happened to me.

10. On a visit to Ocracoke, and a super-informative visit to Teach's Hole, I learned, in great detail, about the demise of Blackbeard the Pirate, and also about the treachery our government is dishing out to residents of Ocracoke island. Memebers of Blackbeard's crew scuttled at the time of his death, and spawned families on Ocracoke. This was back in the 1750's, my friends. The descendants of these people still live on the island. But thanks to tourism, and me, apparently, their property taxes have skyrocketed, and they are scrounging to make a living. Many have already had to sell their ancestral properties. Others sell handicrafts and the like to keep up. My disgust knows no bounds. Let's just say I emptied my pocketbook on local pottery, woven items, and snacks. Screw you, tax man. Do you hear me? Descendants of Blackbeard's crew are leaving because they can't pay their taxes. This is beyond repulsive. The beautiful, simple existence is being taken away because of TAXES. Grandfather them in, motherfuckers!

For the love of all things holy, when I go to Ocracoke, I eat at Howard's pub. Howard was Blackbeard's quartermaster, and the pub still exists. But the Howard family can no longer pay THE MAN? Am I going liberal or super-conservative? I don't care. Leave these people to their beloved island!

I'll post pictures when I get home!

Beach

2005-07-22T11:08:00.000-04:00

There really are no words to express my excitement right now. Tomorrow morning, at five am, I leave for the Outer Banks of North Carolina, not to return for two weeks. The Outer Banks is one of my official "Five Favorite Places on Earth" and I can't wait to remember what it feels like to relax. Back to the same room I've been staying in for 15 years, back to sitting on the porch knitting or going out looking for cool places to sit and paint with watercolors. Back to seashell hunting and attempting and failing (miserably) to use a sea kayak. Shopping for pottery in the little town of Manteo, eating crab dip, and getting an ill-advised tan. All that is a mere 28 hours away from right now.

If you would like to see exactly where I'll be for the next two weeks, click the links below:

Where I'll be staying: http://www.thecavaliermotel.com/Oceanview.html
Where I'll be eating: http://www.mamakwans.com
Where I'll be fishing: http://www.avalonpier.com
My day trip for next Friday: http://www.ocracoke-nc.com/

Anyway, I'll be taking the laptop, and hopefully finding some good hotspots. Hopefully I won't have any hurricanes to blog about this year. I got my fill of that last year.

Ad Hell

2005-07-19T17:26:00.000-04:00

Yesterday, I left my mom alone with my computer here at work for awhile. She is a bit naive of the garbage that can come through the 'net, and she inadvertantly downloaded some garbage adware. This adware was is so sneaky that I was unable to delete it via three separate anti-ad and spy packages. When I sought it out throught the add/remove programs function, I clicked to remove it. When I did so, I got a message box that told me that if I wanted to remove this shit, I had to go to their website and download MORE of their software. I don't think so, bub.

So thank you SO MUCH "ABetterInternet" for giving me the opportunity to bet on horses, play poker online and whatever the hell else you've offered me.

Kind readers, if you've got some time to spare and feel inclined to help me out here, visit these sites and keep sending them inane messages, or offer them the chance to buy something from you. I've had it to here with this crap and am desperate for a little revenge. I can't singlehandedly take down the IRS, as I would like, but I can send mean messages to these spammers and, at the very least, annoy them a little.

Here is the letter I just wrote them:

No words of tongue or pen are adamant enough to express your level of sucking. I leave my mother alone with my computer for one day and I am infected with your insidious garbage. What took her five minutes to accidentally download will take me hours to remove. I will consequently lose hours of valuable business time trying to fix this. I hope that all of you at the alleged "A Better Internet" get infected with a motherboard-burner of a virus. And I hope you all get flat tires in a rainstorm, and end up with a serious case of the sniffles. Kindly bite me. I'm blogging this as soon as my computer starts working again. You may read it at citizenwillow.blogspot.com.

Sleep on this, examine your conscience, and then consider seeking valid employment. You've ruined my day.

You may visit them at

http://www.mypctuneup.com/contacts.php

http://www.abetterinternet.com/contacts.html

BetterInternet, Inc.
107 Grand Street
3rd Floor
New York, NY 10013

Manhater

2005-07-19T10:17:00.000-04:00

With a nod to NH, I feel I must report these facts:

Every year, two or three times per year, actually, I go to a week at a YMCA camp session called "Women's Week." I am an instructor there. It's basically a big camp, with cabins and all the regular camp stuff. Women gather for these weeks from all walks of life and of all ages. Youngest I've seen: 18, Oldest: 92. I would say that the average age is about 45, though, and most of the women that come are married. We have classes in yoga, crafts, horseback riding, and sailing. Not to mention wine tasting, financial planning, astronomy, and business. An average of 65 women attend each session. We have tennis tournaments, hikes, and across-the-lake swims. We stay for five days. It's an absolute blast. I learned to do pottery there many years ago.

My camp friends and I have all reported being amazed at how many men ask if we sit around and bitch about men all day. I've been asked by many myself. I had never really thought about it, though. The fact of the matter is, nobody talks about men there, at all. Like rational creatures, we talk books, politics (with some heated debate), recipes, movies, travel, and all those normal subjects. We play practical jokes on one another. We bring our instruments and play at night. We drink wine and sing songs. We compare hiking injuries and bug bites. We bitch about the muddy path to the shower house, and how you need a shower just from walking back to your cabin. We complain about bear poop on the path. We complain about the odd chipmunk in our cabins. We discuss the fact that they serve too much fat-free dressing. We consider that we may be too fat for the poor horses. We discuss the beautiful foliage. We shop for Amish quilts and pies. We marvel at this or that woman's particular talent in kayaking. We spot eagles and listen for owls. But the fact is, of all these women, I know very little about their careers or husbands. I know that they exist, but that's it. It's just not a topic of conversation.

Now, when I hear so many men suggest that women just sit around and bitch about them, or that we rant about our superiority, I have to ask myself: Do women really act like that? Do I just associate with a different kind of women? Am I in the minority? Most of these complaints do not apply to anyone that I know. What does it all mean? All of my married friends love their husbands. If they don't, I don't know about it. I've met their husbands and they seem nice and well-grounded. Where is all this cattiness and back-biting? Many of us are annoyed with this or that little habit, but it rarely comes up in conversation. The one woman I do know who talks too much about her husband is bragging about him all the time, and it gets annoying. I admit that there are many John habits that get on my nerves, but the fact is, I rarely talk about them, and they are not enough to make me actively bitch about him.

For the record, I have been viscously dumped, cheated on, dissed, judged, and lied to by men. I have discovered a boyfriend was gay. I've been insulted and badly-treated. Conclusion: wrong men. I have had boyfriends with whom I've had good breakups, too. Good guys, wrong time. But none of this made me HATE men. Frankly, I still rather like them.

So please, tell me, where are all these women who hate men? I personally don't know any.

How to Pick Up Chicks

2005-07-17T12:11:00.000-04:00

Inspired by Kelly's recent post about a pervy dad, I've decided to help all you men out with an insider's guide on how to win with women. Follow my list, and you will never fail with the babes. These are the things that make me attracted to a man every time. I am helpless against them. Thank me now, guys, because most women won't tell you these things. They make you too powerful:

1. ALWAYS comment on women in the general vicinity, or on the TV. When you see a good looking chick, be sure to say something about how she is built, and try to use the phrase, "get me some of that." Make an ass-slapping motion. Women love this. If your eye is constantly roaming, it keeps us on our toes. Keeps us interested. Otherwise, we get bored with you really quickly. Knowing that you are discerning man makes us want to look better for you. When we know that you are a true connoisseur or the female form, we feel honored to be chosen by you.

2. When referring to breasts (and you should do this often) always use cute terms like "honkers", "hooters", or "ta-tas". You may also want to refer to someone's "rack." This lets us know that you are sensitive, and that you don't want to offend us by using crass, correct terminology.

3. Let's face it. Most women will not admit it, but we like REAL men. And when I say "real", I mean the kind that doesn't give into the pressures of society to be "polite" and "gentlemanly". This makes you look weak and gay. By all means, assert your masculinity by burping and farting as boisterously and unapologetically as possible. We may turn our noses up, but secretly, we are really turned on.

4. Never, ever dance. If you do it badly, you will look stupid. If you do it well, you are gay. Women HATE men who dance. If you have any self-respect, keep your ass on the barstool.

5. Name your penis, and tell everyone about it. When we hear about "Mr. Pokey" enough times, we're very intrigued and desperate to meet him. Give him a more sophisticated name if you are interested in meeting more learned women. I once totally went for a guy because I wanted to meet "Sir Richard."

6. Make fun of others ruthlessly. This shows that you have a great sense of humor, and want to keep the conversation light and moving along. However, if someone should give YOU a dose of ribbing, get very serious. No REAL man would stand for that.

7. By all means, drive a sports car. We like Camaros best. I once had a boss who called his car a "tart magnet." That REALLY made me want to sleep with him. Sadly, I never did, and I still regret never getting a chance to ride in the tart magnet. It's probably all for the best, though. Obviously, with a car like that, he was more man than I could handle.

8. When out with a group for dinner or drinks, conveniently "forget" your wallet. In fact, it's probably best if you never have any money. This lets us know that you are a ture rebel, with an adventurous, free spirit. You have no use for ridiculous societal conventions like "money" or "responsibility". We admire your freedom and want to be a part of it.

9. When relaxing at home, be sure to wear a beater, and have just a small, gerbil-size ball of chest hair peeking over the top, because, YUM.

10. If you have taken all of the other advice, by now you are in a steady relationship with a hot babe, one who is willing to support YOU. Now that you've got her, you want to keep her, at least for a little while, so keep on your toes! Be sure to introduce her to all of your friends as your "new ho" or your "next ex-wife." We love it when you're funny like that. Be a sloppy kisser, or else we won't feel that you have any real passion for us. Loudly proclaim to your friends, in mixed company, how well-satisfied you make us. Slap us on the ass in public. Scratch youself often. Self-control is for girls and wimps! And to keep us really intrigued, disappear for days at a time. Girls love mystery!

If you feel that these tips are not for you, you may be on the wrong track. A different approach may work for you. Look for my next installment, to be entitled, "How to Attract Women by Being a Whisper-Thin, Pompous, Penniless, Brooding Bohemian Artsy Type." This is a more difficult course, but for those who can pull it off, extremely effective.

Good luck on your quest!

Moore

2005-06-30T10:27:00.000-04:00

When I heard that there was a documentary going around entitled Michael Moore Hates America, I thought it certainly had to be a joke. When I saw that it had been given two thumbs up by Ebert and Roeper, I thought I was most certainly being taken in. But guess what. It's true. This film does exist, and I watched it a few nights ago. As far as I know, it is still available only to buy from the official website or to rent from Netflix, but it is well worth it.

In it, filmmaker Michael Wilson turns all Moore on Moore, and exposes his way-less-than-ethical filmmaking methods, his dramatic setups in the name of documentary, and his profound dislike of his country. It is funny and touching. It is well-made. It makes Moore look like the repulsive, dirty, lying, hypocritical narcissist that he really is.

The best thing about this film, I think, is that it does not deeply attack Michael Moore's politics, and it is, in fact, a film that is quite tolerant of differing political views. No, this film focuses primarily on Moore's ethics, and therefore becomes a very effective expose of the man's character.

I highly recommend this film, unless you are really clinging to some hope that Moore is a valid documentarian, or to some delusion that he actually speaks for working-class Americans. Michael Moore speaks only for himself, and not very well at that.

Meltdown

2005-06-28T10:40:00.000-04:00

Excepting all of those days wherein something truly tragic or meaningful happened, yesterday was the worst day of my life. I suppose it was the worst day of my life in which nothing really bad happened. But, be that as it may, it was pretty fuckin' bad.

In May, I had my car inspected. It did not pass because I needed two new tires. Quoth the repairman, "Just get the tires and bring it back, and we'll put on a sticker. It'll only take five minutes." So, I got my new tires, and went back yesterday for my sticker. Not only had they lost all records of my previous inspection, but they had also mislaid any paperwork which proved that I PAID for this inspection already. Add to that, they were insistent that they did not have time to re-inspect my car. I calmly explained that this was my first real day off in ten weeks, and that I was not likely to have another for three weeks, and then I was leaving for the beach. Conversation ensued. I got him to agree to fit me in, but alas, I did not have my owner's card or my insurance card on hand. He said he definitely could not do anything for me. Long story short, I went to AAA to get a copy of my owner's card. I took it back to the dealer. He said, "I'm sorry, this is for your Ford truck." The AAA lady gave me the wrong card. I went back to AAA to get the right one, and she said she couldn't do it without my insurance, which I had faxed to the dealer, and which was now with them. I went back to the dealer and got that. Came back to AAA (for the third time) and was told that I needed an old owner's card to show. I promptly started to cry. For real. I had no idea where it came from, but I can only guess that it was a combination of sheer, government-induced frustration, 92 degree heat, some hormonal issues, and pure, unadulterated hatred of "the system". I could tell that the poor Auto Club ladies were utterly flummoxed, and had no idea what to do with me. I felt like Diane Keaton in Baby Boom, crying to the vet. I was so embarrassed, but could not manage to shut down the tears. I'm an Aquarian, for heaven's sake. We do NOT cry. I kept apologizing to the Auto Club ladies, and they clearly thought I was insane. But they also felt sorry for me, because they gave me a new owner's card without the last, vital piece of paperwork. I took it back to the dealer, and got my car inspected, feeling, at this point, like I had been run over by a truck. I called my mom and cried to her, telling her I had no idea why I was getting so emotional over something so stupid. She assured me that it was all over now, and I could go home, and forget about this day.

But my "five minute" sticker acquisition turned into five hours. I had no time left for my other chores.

So I went home, got a nice cool glass of iced tea, sat down to check my email, only to find that my desktop had been utterly demolished by a virus which came to me in the form of an email from a friend marked "Beach Pictures." One click, and I had an instant porn machine, no email, and no ability to back up my files. There seemed no hope. I calmly shut down the modem and went and took an ice cold shower. I felt totally cursed. I decided I had to put on my big-girl panties now, and handle it. This really would've been the perfect time for my hot pirate boyfriend to sail in, assure me that he was about to take me away from all this, and hand me a glass of Bordeaux. I looked out the window for him, but all I saw was my irritating neighbor turning her compost heap. Perfect. With an overly dramatic sigh and a huge heap of pathetic self-pity, I began to work on the computer. I spent the better part of the evening re-partitioning my hard drive to isolate my data, and then doing a factory re-install on drive c, losing all of my software in the process. There was no other way. The virus had, before it did anything else, nullified my Norton Antivirus. I was screwed. At 1 am, I went to bed, convinced that I was paying some sort of karmic debt, defeated, and made plans to address the state legislature about government interference in our lives, particularly as relating to vehicular paperwork.

I woke this morning, and decided that I really needed to do something positive before I opened the store. I had to start on a happy note, or the day was doomed. So, I did two of the 16 things guaranteed to make me feel better. I went to Starbuck's and got a HUGE decaf mocha on ice, then I went to Pat Catan's and felt, smelled, ogled, and purchased art supplies. A full set of professional quality watercolors, which I had been wanting very badly. I had a coupon, and got a $50 set for $15. Happy now.

It seems, today, that the curse has been lifted, because good things are happening. I have a large group coming in tomorrow, ensuring that I'll make June's rent. My giant fake palm tree has arrived, giving the place its last little bit of tropical flair, my mocha was good, and the phone has been ringing with people who've seen my ad and have questions. I need to get me a good bag o' juju, to ward against EVER having another day like yesterday. Yesterday sucked.

Pottery

2005-06-20T14:07:00.000-04:00

Well, my store website, such as it is, is up. It's still loaded with errors, and it really kinda sucks, but here it is, for your perusal.

Stormy Blue Pottery

I hope that by autumn, I'll be selling some things on there, too.

I must admit...

2005-06-12T14:36:00.000-04:00

I really love Spongebob and have a particular affection for Plankton.

I don't mind eating at CiCi's Pizza, and actually enjoy Long John Silver's.

I blow a kiss to my poster of Spike every morning.

I've watched Shrek 2 at least ten times already.

I drank too much last night and attempted to sing Melissa Etheridge at karaoke. Everybody said it was "alot better than they expected." I'm not sure how to take that.

My date book is a Witch's calendar, and I plant only when it says to.

I secretly long for one huge kiss straight out of a cheesy pirate romance novel. Just one. But I'm not sure where to find the pirate.

I'm totally psyched that my "Celtic Birth Tree" is the Rowan.

Wireless networking gets me as excited as Beavis watching Motley Crue videos.

I'm kind of enjoying being a little overworked. Vacation will feel that much better, and more deserved.

I just got my hair cut. Way cut. I haven't decided whether I like it or not. I did it even though one of my fantasies is to have Morgaine hair from Mists of Avalon. Long and curly with the occasional braid. Crap. Now I have to let it grow agan.

I'm going swimming now.

Poem

2005-06-10T02:18:00.000-04:00

A few months ago, I posted a poem. I was hoping to get a little feedback on it, but such was not the case. I'm posting it again, this time with the grand admission that it is my poem. Yeah, I wrote it. It is, in fact, the most meaningful thing (to me) that I've ever written. I do not require comment or critique, though it would be welcome. I invite negative commentary as well, as I am not married to it. Here it is, one last time, forever:

12

The work-a-day
Gives way
To melancholy twilight
And pensive night.

Wash of salty air,
Heavy with unseen sea,
Fills the void with you
And useless, reckless dreams.

Libertine moon
Accomplice to
Relentless
Pounding
Surf

Sweeps me
Helpless
Through the door where you live
And where I am not myself.

Map!

2005-06-08T16:46:00.000-04:00

In a typically lovely post, Lorna wrote recently that she was innocent and naive about certain things, especially when it comes to real estate. I must confess that there is a certain aspect of my own innocence and naivete that I have yet to lose. I spent a better than average part of childhood in the backseat of a green Pontiac Catalina, with no air conditioning. This is because my parents drove across the country every year to visit friends in Albequerque and Las Vegas. We'd go for a whole month and visit every landmark along the way. To me, this was as good as life could possibly get, and I was endlessly fascinated with things like Mount Rushmore, The Grand Canyon, slot machines, and the World's Largest Ball of Twine. My backseat "toy" of choice was always a map, so that I could follow along as we drove. In my younger years, I had one of those kids' maps, that had fun little pictures in all the states. You know what I'm talking about. Pennsylvania would have a little coal miner and a Liberty Bell. Idaho would have trees and a potato. Texas would have oilwells and cowboys and tumbleweeds. You know.

Because of these maps (thanks to them, more like) I have a mild but persistent case of romanticizing places. Even now, at the age of 36, I am a little dissappointed when I cross the border into Kentucky and the grass is not blue. I get a touch deflated whenever I enter Florida and don't immediately see an orange grove. I am always dissappointed now, when I travel, because as time goes on, places get more and more alike. Every town seems to have a Wal-Mart, a Chili's and a McDonald's. Damnit. When I enter Arizona, I want to see cacti and a derelict Gulf station with a vaguely creepy and very dirty attendant. Not Wal-Mart. When I enter Georgia, I lament the peculiar lack of abundant peaches and magnolias in my immediate view, but I perk up when I see the red mud. When I enter Texas, I want to see cowboys EVERYWHERE. (Of course, I want that all the time, but still, I'm just saying.) I don't want to see the same damn things that are in my own back yard. I guess the bottom line is that I wish for a world that's just a little Disneyfied, in that everything looks exactly like you expect it to. I don't know if I'll ever get over that.

And even now, I own at least 15 atlases, and a conservative estimate of the size of my road map hoard would be 150. I have road maps for places I'll likely never drive. I can tell you how to get anywhere in the country. I even know what roads are best for getting from London to Devon. And what's even weirder is that I keep a change of clothes, toothpaste and shampoo in my car at all times, as well as a cooler. I think that at any moment, I may decide to discover the bayou-living voodoo woman who will meet me at the border with juju as soon as I get to Louisiana. I think I'm a flight risk.

Tag!

2005-06-08T11:49:00.000-04:00

Well, I have been largely absent, but I find that getting tagged with a meme tends to make me get off my lazy mouse and start typing. Things have calmed down somewhat at the store, and I have decided to start my own meme. I know, I know. It's quite presumptuous and I'm an upstart, but I've had a few questions I've been wanting to ask, and answer, I suppose. And so, without further ado, here is my own meme.

List each of the following:

TEN Words you love to say:
cockamamie, abstemious, hurricane, demagogue, abject, vulgar, expeditious, blatantly, Chateaueuf du Pape, fuck.

NINE Guiltiest pleasures:
American Idol, Survivor, Big Brother, Alan Alda, wine, Real Genius, Zebra Historical Romances, Alec Baldwin, Cadbury Flake Bars (when I can find 'em)

EIGHT Favorite items to wear (clothes or otherwise):
Lavender perfume, Teva sandals, Birkenstocks, long skirts, sleeveless shirts, granny cotton underwear, anachronistic garb like capes and highwaymen's coats, lipstick.

SEVEN Sexiest celebrities:
The Rock, Bill Murray, Daniel Day Lewis, Gary Oldman, Jason Isaacs, Alton Brown, Emma Thompson

SIX Most irritating celebrities: Barbra Streisand, Michael Moore, Winona Ryder, Dan Rather, Rosie O'Donnell, Sean Penn

FIVE Favorite things about summertime: Walks in the woods, the smell of chlorophyll, trips to the beach, wearing cool clothes, hanging out by the pool at night.

FOUR Books you've read most recently: The Screwtape Letters - C.S. Lewis, The Bear Went Over the Mountain - William Kotzwinkle, Candyfreak - Steve Almond, Little Black Book of Stories - A.S. Byatt (In progress. Thanks, Lorna!)

THREE Words you've been meaning to look up (and their meanings, if you're abitious):
erudite - Learned and teacherly
puerile - Childish (I thought that's what it meant!)
erstwhile - Previously, or in the past

TWO Funniest gifts you've been given:

At my bridal shower, I was given a real Star Trek uniform. (TNG command red.) The friend who gave it to me said that knowing John, she thought the effects would be far more potent than lingerie on my wedding night. Whether or not I put that to the test, I refuse to divulge.
Nun-shaped soap-on-a-rope from my friend Kelli. That still cracks me up.

ONE thing you both fear and find wildly intriguing: Wicca, Druidism and all things pagan.

I am tagging Name Hidden, Kelly, and Lorna.

Meme

2005-06-01T09:39:00.000-04:00

Vyvyan, I've just received this meme-o.

Well thanks to Kelly and my (finally) successful workplace internet connection, I am rearing my ugly head around here again. This seemed like a fun one to do this morning, so here I go.

Three screen names that you have had:
Mostly, I've had pretty boring ones, using some version of my first name.
krissykfk
krissy3001
SaltyCat

Three things you like about yourself:
My imagination
My eccentricities
The fact that I think pretty much everything is funny

Three things you don't like about yourself:
My ability to procrastinate indefinitely
My often bleak world view
My Hyundai-sized ass

Three parts of your heritage:
50% Slovenian (NO! NOT SLOVAK!)
25% Polish
25% Carpathian Russian
(that adds up to 100% pure Picksburgh hunky)

Three things that scare you:
Adults who can't spell
All insect-type creatures
Disease & Michael Moore (it's a tie)

Three of your everyday essentials:
Iced tea with plentiful ice
Sea Breeze (the astringent, not the wind or the drink)
A touch of profanity

Three things you are wearing right now:
Jeans
White sleeveless shirt
Blue Birkenstocks

Three of your favorite songs:
Sweet Home Alabama - Lynyrd Skynyrd
Hallelujah - Rufus Wainwright
Blue - The Jayhawks

Three new things you want to try in the next 12 months:
Rolling sushi
Ocean kayaking
Pit-fired pottery

Three things I want in a relationship:
OK, I'll put it this way. I need a guy who:
Makes me laugh OFTEN (and vice versa)
Understands that everyone needs some time alone, and that it's nothing personal.
Can teach me something new (and vice versa)

Two truths and a lie:
I fantasize about owning a sailboat
I fantasize about owning a mansion
I fantasize about living in a cave

Three things you can't do without:
Daydreams
Water
Tomatoes

Three places you want to go on vacation:
Hawaii and the rest of Polynesia
3 Months in Europe
Cross-country in a sinfully-large Winnebago

Three things you just can't do:
Play chess
Wink my right eye
Keep my car neat for more than a week

Three kids' names:
Ludwig
Wolfgang
Sergei

Three things you want to do before you die:
Steal Jim Cantore's job (I'll get you, Cantore!)
Ride in an F-16
Own a winery

Three Celeb crushes:
Viggo Mortensen
Bill Murray (this is a new one)
The Rock (Placing paper bag on my head now. I'm only human!)

Queen

2005-05-09T23:47:00.000-04:00

It is well-known, among those who know me well, that my all-time favorite band is Queen. They have been my fab four since I was 11 years old. I heard some buzz about them touring with Paul Rodgers, so I decided to look to see what was going on. I went and downloaded a recording of their concert three weeks ago in Munich, and I just listened to it. First of all, it was wild to hear all of the old songs again. I don't pull them out very often. I suffered from Queen overkill in high school and so I never think to pop them in the stereo. Well, it seems absence has indeed made my heart grow fonder. The songs bring back such memories, but, not when they are sung by Paul Rodgers. Now I've gotta dig out the real albums and spend some quality time with my Freddie, the greatest rock singer who ever lived, bar none. You can throw Steve Perry in my face all you want, or Sebastian Bach (you know who you are) but nobody has ever possessed the purity of sound and perfection of pitch that my dear Freddie had.

And out comes the vinyl.

If I Had a Hammer

2005-05-05T00:31:00.000-04:00

Kelly, you've twisted my arm. I'll do it.

If I could be a scientist...
If I could be a farmer...
If I could be a musician...
If I could be a doctor...
If I could be a painter...
If I could be a gardener...
If I could be a missionary...
If I could be a chef...
If I could be an architect...
If I could be a linguist...
If I could be a psychologist...
If I could be a librarian...
If I could be a lawyer...
If I could be an inn-keeper...
If I could be an athlete...
If I could be a professor...
If I could be a writer...
If I could be a llama rider...
If I could be a bonnie pirate...
If I could be an astronaut...
If I could be a world famous blogger...
If I could be a justice on any one court in the world...
If I could be married to any current famous political figure...
If I could be a dog trainer...

If I could be an inkeeper, I'd live somewhere gorgeous and romantic, like the Irish coast. I'd cook big, fluffy pancakes for my guests every morning and I would always find room for weary travellers on donkeyback.

If I could be an athlete, I'd win the gold in downhill skiing, then turn around and win one for the 400m medley swim two years later. I'd be tan and have big white teeth. I'd tell kids to stay off drugs, do commercials for healthy food, and look really hot.

If I could be a musician, I'd find a way to blend Slovenian Button Box music with Crowded House-type music. I would be later known as "The Queen of Alpine Folk Rock". I would also play first chair cello in the Pittsburgh Symphony, and make myself cry at every minor chord.

If I could be an astronaut, I would totally freak out when I could see the entire planet Earth for the first time. I would be very vigilant in looking for alien craft, and I would suck floating pudding out of the air. I'll bet that would never get old.

If I could be a bonnie pirate, I would attack French ships and take all of their wine. I would be a veritable fountain of one-liners to be used during swordplay. I would try to merely incapacitate, but never kill the folks I'm pillaging. That way I'd gain my reputation as a vicious but non-murderous pirate with witty comebacks and shiny hair. I would be feared. At night, I would celebrate the day's conquests with my crew by swinging merrily from the yardarm, drinking stolen Bordeaux from a pewter mug, and singing bawdy shanties. I would have an anachronistic devotion to personal hygiene, and demand the same from my hot pirate boyfriend. I would be happy as a clam.

Random

2005-05-04T02:37:00.000-04:00

There have been numerous occasions over the past few weeks which have prompted me to think, "Oh man, that pisses me off. I've gotta blog about this." But alas, the unforeseen pressures and complications of opening a business have prevented me from taking the time. It's awfully late right now, but I'm in hyper-spazzz mode, sleepless, and feel like writing. But I'm too tired to put together something long and well-crafted (as if I ever do). So I'm stealing Name Hidden's format, yet again, and putting down ten random thoughts. Not good, not bad, just random. The numbering format allays the pressures of coming up with reasonable segues.

1. I have come to wonder, of late, how anyone, ever, manages to start a business. I truly do not believe that the actual running of my wee little shop could possibly be as stressful as getting it open in the first place. The rules, the regulations, the insurance adjustors and the inspectors. (Lest I forget, the inadequate circuit breakers. ) Our system does not encourage true free enterprise. In fact, I believe the system encourages failure and punishes success. I just wanna get those doors open. I just wanna sell you a pretty handmade bowl of higher-than-average quality, and at a fair price. What's so hard? It seems that my little freelance writing enterprise did little to educate me in the ways of running a business with a physical address. What was I thinking? Today, I spent $300 on packaging materials, just to let my customers leave with a pretty bag. I'm drowning, and I can't even get the doors open. It'll happen. It'll happen.

2. I have taken my first step into a dark, dark place. Having nervous breakdown v. 6.5, I wandered into my local comic book shop. I bought five Buffy comics. I haven't opened them yet. I'm saving them for when I need a serious lift. I think that's tomorrow. I mean today. Anyway, the surprisingly lovely and friendly comic book proprietor helped me to select a full story arc plus one Spike special edition. I feel good about this. These are my first comic books, but I fear, not my last. Hmmm, except for those Archie Comics I read in junior high. But I think they don't count.

3. Oh my God, it's just gone three o'clock. That's AM! I need to go to bed.

4. I am able to finally make the pronouncement, to say the sooths, and speak the truth. The data has been collected. 100% of men who drive Corvettes are idiots. I owned one for a year. My dad passed away and I inherited his. I never drove it. I sold it to a cousin who fits the description. I love my dad very very much, but still, what's true is true. Q: What's the difference between a Corvette and a porcupine? A: On a porcupine, the pricks are on the OUTSIDE.

5. Come to that, my dear dad passed away eight years ago on this day exactly. May 4. I never quite pass through this date without shedding a tear. It was a Sunday, and I played golf with him that very morning. It's funny. I'm a total Aquarian, and not given very much to sentimentality, nostalgia, or even remembering people's names. But I do remember every single detail of that day. I kinda wish I didn't. The death of a parent, no matter what your relationship with them, has an impact that is surprising. Most of us go through it in life. Even so, you're never quite prepared, and you never quite get over it. My dad died six months after I was married. I am always thankful that I didn't postpone my wedding (as I wanted to) because I'll always have the memory of dancing with my daddy. Damn it. Now I'm sad. And wistful. And soft-focused.

6. Panera opened today in Murrysville, John Malkovich freaks me out, but not in a fun way like Christopher Walken, and I just put up a poster of Aragorn in my office. See? Sadness all gone now.

7. I am ashamed to say that I watch American Idol with approximately the same fervor with which I watch Steeler Football. I'm thinking about seeking counseling for this. There's this one dude on there right now that I love. I actually pick up the phone to vote for him. It's funny. Sometimes, when I watch a Steeler game, and lose my voice over it, I think, "Kristine, you are freaking out over a bunch of overpaid dumb jocks giving each other brain damage. Read a fuckin' book." Then I remember: I watch American Idol. Also, I like SpongeBob. I suck.

8. I am thinking about going out to my car to procure one of my emergency cigarettes. I feel like smoking right now. Yup. Going.

9. Tomorrow, I finally get to test-fire my kiln at the shop. It needs to go to 2200 degrees, and last time, it got to 70 before it blew. If it doesn't work tomorrow, I'm screwed.

10. Looking back on this list, I have little positive to say. I'm not in the best "place" right now (I hate people who say that), so maybe #10 would be a good time to express some positives. I love swimming, popcorn, and root beer. I'll be at the beach for two weeks this summer, and that's as good as it gets. There's this one restaurant down there, Mama Kwan's, that makes the BEST fish tacos north of the Pecos. I own all but one season of Buffy on DVD. I have a pool. Soon, I'll be selling things and stuff. I have awesome dogs. My cats are pretty cool as cats go. I'm having grilled veggies for dinner tomorrow night, my favorite. I love when the onion gets all burnt. I'm going to the BIGASS Pittsburgh Wine Festival at Heinz Field on Thusday, and staying at the Renaissance that night. That's fun. That's really fun. I've never stayed overnight at a hotel that close to home before.

All in all, life is pretty damned good. It's too easy to get caught up in the negative. MMMMMM... Root Beer.

Babs

2005-04-26T14:54:00.000-04:00

I just heard on the radio that Barbra Streisand has called the new pope "scary." What else do I need to say?

Disgust

2005-04-16T10:58:00.000-04:00

I have no words. Well, I have these: Whether he's joking or not, this sonofabitch is a soulless piece of human garbage.

Save Toby

Party!

2005-04-11T21:45:00.000-04:00

Just so I wouldn't be late, AGAIN, I thought I'd be one of the annoying people to arrive too early to Mysterious Cloaked Figure's Blog Party III. This time, he asks us to bring our five favorite heroes of all time to the party. As always, I will be answering in the most visceral way, giving no thought to real merit, only to my own feelings at this very moment.

1. Edmond Dantes - The Count of Monte Cristo. Because I just love that whole plotty revengey thing. He's a hero to me. Scary, huh?

2. Aragorn - Need I say more? There's really nothing like a reluctant king when you need saving!

3. Spike - Of course! Because at the very end, he's THE big redeemed hero. I'm so psyched that he's in both villain and hero categories!

4. Mr. Darcy - From Pride and Prejudice. Sure, he starts out surly and anti-social, but what a hero! My very favorite kind of hero, in fact.

5. Jack Stiles - A true hero and the king of the one-liners! A hero needs a big chin, and he's got one, along with a horse named Nutcracker. Verily, I love you, Jack Stiles.

And hey! How many EXCLAMATION POINTS can I fit into one post? What fun! Heroes! Exclamation points! Hooray!

Pirates!

2005-04-11T17:12:00.000-04:00

The post about Defoe's book has got me thinking. I think that we should all take on Pirate names in this style. One real name (e.g. Black Bellamy) and one descriptive name (e.g. The Pirate with a Scarf).

For me, I'm going with Snake B. Malcoeur, The Pirate with a Keen Interest in Severe Weather.

So, let's hear 'em!

Books!

2005-04-11T09:02:00.000-04:00

I have been utterly consumed with work for the last week, and I haven't bothered to post a thing. I thought I'd take a moment, or ten, this morning to write a little before I begin my daily dose of frantic wall-bouncing and phone-calling and bank-visiting. Here are a couple of things I've read lately, and my reactions thereto.

1. Candyfreak : By Steve Almond
I admit, I am not a candy freak, so when this book was thrust upon me by the well-meaning members of my book club, I was a touch annoyed. I felt that was simply too much to read about candy. What I didn't realize is that this guy is funny. Yes, he waxes political in inappropriate places, he becomes wistful about his childhood, but not enough for us to care, really, and he possesses what a dear friend of mine calls a "sometimes self-conscious" writing style. But you know what? All is forgiven, because he's funny. It's true about me that if you make me laugh, I'm yours forever, and this guy did. But I do not exaggerate when I tell you that my teeth actually hurt through much of the book. So much candy. One book club member took it upon herself to find every regional candy bar mentioned in the book (ah, the wonders of cyberspace) and bring them to the meeting. I haven't experienced a sugarhigh like that, well, ever. It got so crazy that one member, a certifiably insane germ-a-phobe, took candy out of my mouth and ate it. That's what sugar in high doses can do to girls. I take no responsibility for, nor do I remember, anything else I did that night. When we formed a ladies' book club, "rowdy" was not an adjective we expected to be used to describe it. So, thank you, Steve Almond, you big sugar-pusher. I'll bet he's hanging around a schoolyard right now, offering the first Goo Goo Cluster for free.

2. The PIRATES! In an Adventure with Scientists : By Gideon Defoe
A very short and ridiculous read, but worth twice its weight in gold doubloons. Several jokes in this book have been sticking with me for days, and I laugh every time I think about them. There's no describing it, really. A group of pirates mistake Darwin's Beagle for a treasure ship in The Galapagos and attack it. They become friends, eat ham, and go on an adventure. Look, just read it. "Trust me on this one," said the pirate with a severe nut allergy.

Oh, man. Blogger's spell checker just told me to replace "Candyfreak" with "Sandbars." Anybody got a clue about THAT one?

JPII

2005-04-02T12:05:00.000-05:00

Yesterday, I was out painting in the store all day. I tuned the radio to the news so that I could listen for word on the Pope. ABC talk/news was not paying enough attention, so I switched to BBC world news and occasionally, Radio Dublin (I love the satellite radio.) I got very annoyed when one of my new neighbors, a computer salesman, came over to meet me because it meant I had to turn down the radio. I might miss something. It felt like Good Friday, listening to the reports of the Pope lying on his death bed; listening to the chants of the pilgrims in St. Peter's Square. I was inexplicably stuck with sadness. It was like all of my Catholicism came rushing over me, all at once. I was remembering the nuns, remembering the constant church-going thoughout grade school. I remembered the moment when this Pope was shot, and how the nuns were crying and we were all told to drop to our knees right in the middle of English class and start up a Rosary. I was in 5th grade.

I went home, after the painting, and turned on MSNBC. They can always be counted on when there is a major world event happening. I wanted no distractions. Just a constant view of The Vatican. MSNBC did deliver, and they still are. I watched that view of St. Peter's from 4 PM till 11PM, feeling sick with the thought that this man was dying. I remember when he was elected, how my Pap Pap, his parents also from Krakow, cheered at the Polish Pope. He was soon insisting that we were related to him. Even at the age of 10, I got that this Polish Pope was a big deal, especially to the Polish side of my family. I thought about my Pap Pap, and how he, too, had a ridiculous capacity for healing thoughout his life. He had survived a heart-attack, rolling his car over a hillside, and every medical procedure known to man. I was struck by how much alike they were, really. I thought about my Pap Pap's garish spotlit picture of JPII, with the candles in front of it.

At 11PM, it looked like nothing much was going to happen, and I desperately needed a break. I was completely screwed up from watching Rome for so long. I started to think it was morning. I started to wonder if I could get a flight there, so I could be at St. Peter's. I really, REALLY needed a break. I went and took a shower and watched a couple of M*A*S*H re-reuns. I switched back to MSNBC to see what was happening. There was a rumor that The Vatican would make an announcement and 3AM Eastern. I poured a glass of wine and decided to wait it out. I had to know. I fell asleep.

I woke this morning to find that he was still alive. And as of now, he still is. Now I'm thinking about the creepy secrecy and ritual of Vatican, "The Kremlin on the Tiber". And when my husband called this morning and joked, "How's the Poop?" I got really annoyed and felt extremely defensive of my Catholicism. He's a heathen Protestant, after all, so how could he understand?

I'm headed back to the TV for awhile. Then I'm going to a play tonight. I fear I really will be thinking about The Pope all evening. I never would've believed it.

Terri

2005-03-31T15:15:00.000-05:00

Well, Terri Schiavo has passed away, without even the comfort of her parents' presence, thanks to her murderous, treacherous "husband". May that poor soul rest in peace. May God bless her family and may God help us all as we take one giant step towards becoming Logan's Run.

Zin - Repost

2005-03-31T07:38:00.000-05:00

****This is a manual re-post of the Zin entry. Technical errors on my part have forced this. I'm very sorry to those who made comments that were lost.****

The Pink Stuff
Evil Pink
The Pink Death
A Mortal Zin
NASCAbernet

I am about to defend my rather bold comments a regarding White Zinfandel.

DISCLAIMER*** What you must know about me is that I am a wine-appreciation instructor and have been making my own homemade wine for about 8 years now. I am currently in the process of writing a down-to-earth sort of wine book; one that is fun, not snotty, and actually educational instead of snooty. Let it be known here and now that I hate wine snobs. I do not consider myself to be one. However, I believe White Zinfandel to be the scourge of the wine world, especially here, in America, where it remains the most popular wine on the shelves. ***END DISCLAIMER

Ever peek into a red grape? Inside, it's pretty much the same color as a white grape. Red grapes would make white wine unless the winemakers allowed the juice to sit with the skins for quite awhile. This is the only thing that makes red wine red. The skin. The humble skin is also the only thing that gives red wine its wonderful flavors, aromas, and complexity. The tannins in the skin give the wine the power to age gracefully and taste better with each passing year. It's a beautiful thing.

Now, consider the lovely Zinfandel grape. Ah, the Zinfandel. This grape is agruably the only noble (vitis vinifera) grape originally from America. It is the Uncle Sam of grapes. If handled properly (with skins) it produces one of the most delightful wines in the world. A rich, gorgeous wine of deep garnet. A wine that inspires many winemakers to give it cool, gothic, mysterious names. I love Zinfandel. If I were trapped on a desert island and told I could have only one variety of red wine for the rest of my life, I would choose Zinfandel. Hands down.

So, given all that, why is it that most of the Zinfandel grown in California is manhandled? It is separated from its skins very early on, allowed to be merely pink, stripped of it's flavors and aromas and then sweetened with sugar. It becomes a parody of its potentially great self. It becomes acoholic soda pop. Shamed. Why? Because Americans drink it by the gallon.

And why do American drink it so enthusiastically? I have a theory, and it won't go over too well with my conservative friends, but I'll put it out there anyway. Many Americans want to appear worldly and sophisticated, and they know that ordering wine gives that illusion. So they choose the most unsophisticated wine on earth and call it a day. They never bother to explore what the world has to offer.

In my wine classes, I have seen it many times. People who proudly state that they "only drink White Zinfandel" come to my class. I tell them up front that if I don't have them hating the stuff in two months (class meets once per month) I'll eat my own foot. I still have both feet. One woman, in particular, said she couldn't stand anything other than White Zin, but desperately wanted to broaden her horizons. This woman now eschews the evil pink and enjoys Pinot Noirs. If you know anything about wine, you know what an accomplishment this is.

The problem is, Americans have not had the inclination or the knowledge to educate their palates. Once they do, they find out what the rest of the world already knows. White Zinfandel sucks. It sucks loudly. It is repsonsible for robbing people of the true appreciation of wine.

I could go on forever, but I believe I've made my case. In spite of what you've just read, I still do not consider myself to be a wine snob. I believe wine is for everyone and does not need to be expensive to be excellent. I also think that folks should drink what they like, even if it is White Zinfandel. But please, don't let that be the only thing you ever try. I recommend a Riesling. Coax yourself to really quaff a Cabernet. Savor a Sauvignon. Share a Shiraz. Purchase a Pinot.

And let's all start to call White Zinfandel what it really is. Yucky.

Cold

2005-03-23T11:02:00.000-05:00

I HAVE HAD IT! Will the cold ever stop? I just want to see that stupid mother-humpin'-son-of-a-ditch-digger Weather Pixie dressed in shorts. Or tasteful capris. She taunts me. She wheedles me. She's pissing me off! Apparently, only the extermination of the Weather Pixie will bring the warm weather. It's her. She's doing this. That's why she smiles knowingly. When I'm not looking, she's laughing at me. Weather Pixie must die!

Grump

2005-03-22T16:11:00.000-05:00

I've been going insane with bidnis stuff I have to do. Just now, I hit a wall. There's nothing more I can do today. Now I'm sitting here, all confused. Maybe I should do some laundry. Maybe clean up the kitchen. Or maybe I should write a post about things I dislike. Ha. That's it. It's break time. Here's a list of 10 random things I dislike:

1. People who take e-mail addresses from mailings and use them for themselves. Must I always blind copy? I guess so, because I got a perturbed letter from a friend who was contacted by someone from whom she did not want to hear. This rogue e-mailer got her address from one of my jokey forwards. Can't do that anymore.

2. White Zinfandel. When will Americans wake up and realize that this is not wine? Well, technically, it is wine, but still. I'm just saying.

3. New Jersey accents. I'm sorry. They just sound really stupid.

4. People who hide their real intentions or try to manipulate me via my emotions. OK, this is going to come off really pompous, but sometimes I feel like I must be the smartest people-reader in the whole world. I know instantly when someone is trying to pull the wool over my eyes or wants something from me. I always know, but I never let on. Sneakiness in personal relationships is so ugly.

5. IPA beers. Too hoppy for me.

6. Winona Ryder. Becuase she is a very bad actor, and she keeps kissing all of my potential boyfriends. If you need proof of either one of these facts, watch Bram Stoker's Dracula and The Age of Innocence. Either movie will highlight both the bad acting and offensive boyfriend kissing.

7. When somebody quotes Shakespeare and then asks me, "Know what that's from?" And I say, "Henry V". And they say, "No! It's from Star Trek 2 : The Wrath of Khan." I swear, I don't have anyone in particular in mind. (HA HA HA) But if a person is such a trekkie, shouldn't they know that Khan is quoting Shakespeare?

8. When people pass off the words of others as their own. LAME!

9. Eating a meal that makes you REALLY thirsty later.

10. Short dudes who compensate by being really loud and authoritative. Basically, the Napoleonic Complex. They usually have no idea what they are talking about.

Casting

2005-03-21T23:49:00.000-05:00

All of this talk about Robert Langdon, and my own comment about Tom Hanks not being "hot" enough to fill the bill, has got me thinking about casting decisions.

When Gary Oldman was cast to play Sirius Black in Harry Potter, the message boards were going wild with young'uns complaining that he was too old, and not hot enough. I was positively astounded, because I find Gary Oldman to be one of the sexiest men to ever grace the silver screen. (Maybe one of the twenty sexiest movie actors of all time.) Admittedly, it's not his looks. It's his intensity. If I had cast Sirius Black, incidentally, my very favorite Potter character to date, I would have cast Daniel Day Lewis. Because, you know, yum. But I thought Gary Oldman was a great choice for this tortured soul of a guy. So, good then.

Interesting to me too, is the fact that Peter Jackson's first choice for Aragorn was the aforementioned Daniel Day Lewis. Dan enjoyed quite a long reign at the very top of my Muy Caliente Babes list. And yes, I have a compulsion to make lists of all kinds, and yes, Daniel Day Lewis was at the very top of my real, I-actually-wrote-it-down list. Some of my friends do this too, so we can compare and contrast at get-togethers. Anyway, he's still pretty much tops. If only he didn't take himself so seriously, our love could last. But I digress. My point is, I actually shudder at the very thought of him as Aragorn. As I understand it, he was courted for the role rather vigorously by Jackson, but kept turning him down. After the shameful showing of Stuart Townsend, the role was finally filled by the man who was clearly meant to have it, the inimitable Viggo. And who isn't happy about that? Except for Stuart Townsend, that is.

So, what's my point, then? I really don't know. I suppose it is that I may be jumping the gun when criticizing Tom Hanks as Robert Langdon. Maybe that will work out just fine. Maybe he was meant to play the role. I do know this: The cinematic Robert Langdon is bound to be a better-developed character than the literary one. He would have to be, considering the "genius" that is Dan Brown.

Oh, but wait. I just realized who would play the perfect Langdon: A younger Harrison Ford. Because after all, isn't Langdon a total Indy ripoff? I've solved it.

Lorna

2005-03-21T14:53:00.000-05:00

I just got home from a day of much errand-running. I was tired, grumpy, and my head full of garbage regarding the vast seas of bidnis paperwork ahead of me still. I stopped at my mailbox, and saw that it was bursting at its seams with a big puffy package. Lo, the lovely Lorna of Lorna in Wonderland had sent me a package. Owing to our similar tastes, she has sent me two books: A.S. Byatt's Little Black Book of Stories, and a bonus, Philip Pullman's His Dark Materials - Book 1 - The Golden Compass. I've never seen these Pullman books, but I must admit, this one looks to be right up my proverbial alley.

Right now, I am reading Candyfreak by Steve Almond, and I need to finish that for my book club. Then it's A.S. Byatt, all the way.

Lorna, you are both generous and wise, and a damned fine person to boot. I will report back to you with a review of each book. I will then send them on their merry way. I have just the person in mind, too. Thank you so much!

DaVinci

2005-03-18T15:14:00.000-05:00

Maybe I'm way behind the times on this. Maybe everybody knows this but me. But I just saw that Tom Hanks is playing Robert Langdon in the movie version of The DaVinci code. Now, I really like Tom Hanks, a lot. But something about this just doesn't ring true. I pictured more of a Tom Selleck (I know - too old) or even a George Clooney or Ben Affleck (oh, Ben, you're such a guilty pleasure). Tom Hanks just doesn't seem quite suave enough for the part. Or is that just me?

Nerves

2005-03-18T14:35:00.000-05:00

This is it. Tonight, I sign a lease, hand over great wads of cash, and Stormy Blue Pottery and Gallery will be born. I'm overwhelmed by the amount I have to do, and frankly, I'm freaking out. Completely. I was at the supermarket this morning, and noticed that while I was pushing the cart, my arms were so tense that they were about half their normal length. No wonder I get backaches.

I have designated Saturday as my "Day to Make Lists All Day." Hopefully, by May 1, I'll be inviting all my bloggerbuddies to my big open house and gala grand opening soiree.

Lawyer

2005-03-16T16:58:00.000-05:00

I just got back from a meeting with my lawyer, and he said he would do all of the name stuff for my business for free, as a "gift to help me get started". I'll never tell another lawyer joke again. At least not about him. Not that I ever did. Whatever.

Welcome

2005-03-15T08:18:00.000-05:00

Blogger template changes always seem to be a little of a pain in the ass. This one took me all of 2 minutes. I'm pleased to welcome Alicia of Twilight Cafe and Lorna of Lorna in Wonderland to my blogroll. It's been too long coming, but you're here now, and that's a good thing.

Wonder what's with me and the "good things"? Am I channeling a certain recently-released felon with a cool crocheted poncho? Must be.

Catharsis

2005-03-14T14:12:00.000-05:00

It may very well be that "catharsis" is too strong a word for this post. But I did have an eye-opening, possibly life-changing weekend. OK, now, don't get excited. I've set this up as some kind of major thing, but it isn't, really. Why don't I just stop with the set-up and get on with it?

1) On Friday night, I watched Supersize Me. If you haven't heard of it before, it's the documentary wherein Morgan Spurlock eats nothing but McDonald food for a full month. And I mean NOTHING but. Now, I would certainly expect that anyone who ate this ridiculous diet would suffer resultant health "issues." You know, eventually. What I found to be truly incredible was the speed at which this man's health deteriorated. It was alarming, to say the least. While watching it, I was able to console myself and feel mighty angelic because I haven't eaten a bite of McFood in well over 15 years. But still, I'm overweight. And now I'm afraid of even more food.

2) On Saturday night, some of our friends came over for fondue and games. I made the cheese fondue, and they made chocolate fondue. We played Cranium. Then we got drunk. BIG drunk. We hadn't planned it, but it just started happening. It was the kind of drunk I haven't been in quite a while. I woke up with a world-class hangover on Sunday, and the self-loathing began.

3) I was totally wigging out today with all the details for opening this business. I had been on the phone with the PA Department of Revenue, which, incidentally, makes the IRS looks like a well-run institution. Stress. I made my mom meet me for lunch at Shogun, which is one of those typical Japanese steakhouses. There's something about eating with chopsticks that calms me down. But then, I ate all the rice they gave me.

What it all comes down to is that I am now totally disgusted with excess. I'm the kind of disgusted that makes you actually take action. The last time I hated myself this much, I lost 60 pounds, and liked myself a whole lot more. I don't want any more refined sugar. Less fat. No more white bread or white pasta. I feel a return to my purer vegetarian past coming on. That's when I really ate mostly vegetables. I need to get back to that now, I think, to feel better physically and mentally.

Right now, I'm drinking an organic mango spritzer, and I think that's good. Let the detox begin.

Sitcom

2005-03-12T10:52:00.000-05:00

Fashionably late again for MCF's Blog Party. It's Saturday morning. Maybe some folks couldn't drive home last night and had to stay over.

My top three sitcom minor characters are...

Michael Warburton as Puddy on Seinfeld. He's just freakin' hilarious.

Stephen Root at Jimmy on News Radio. I love this guy! He's SO arrogant and pompous, but he does it all with a big smile and a good ol' boy chuckle.

Megan Mulally as Karen on Will & Grace. She probably can't even be counted as a minor character, but she makes me laugh till it hurts.

Runner-up: Seinfeld's J. Peterman.

Comments

2005-03-11T11:13:00.000-05:00

Since blogger won't let me post comments today, I'm putting them here. Suck on it, blogger!

Lorna - Murrysville is in Pennsylvania, and I'm so happy you got the freaky Rod Stewart haircut. Sounds great!

Drake - On unions, AMEN, brother!

Kelly - I've got a fever, and the only prescription is more COWBELL.

Name Hidden - Great cartoon. Freaky cat, but I'm glad you visited Tammy B. She rocks.

SuperJeans - I'll expect you at my grand opening!

Zero

2005-03-10T14:56:00.000-05:00

For Kelly

Ladies and gentlemen, let it never be said that Kristine has no sense of adventure, no pioneering spirit. I sit here, freshly returned from Sheetz. In front of me sits a Zero Bar. I'm about to taste it. Here are my impressions as I do.

I'm opening the wrapper, and it is far whiter than I expected. I was imagining a thin veil of white chocolate, but no. It's quite substantial. It looks repulsive, like that white asparagus. Unnatural. It smells like white chocolate, and it reminds me of the Easters of my childhood. White chocolate bunnies. Ick.

I just took a bite and am now waiting for a taste to happen... Data overload. I cannot process this. Another bite, if I can get the first one out of my teeth. I thought there would be peanuts. No reason. I just thought there would. But it's just this mysterious thing called nougat. It tastes, well, really bad. Third and definitely final bite. No. I'm sorry. No. This is not worth the calories. This is not worth the chewing. OH! It hurts my teeth really bad! My teeth are really sensitive to sugar, and I can't get this out. My own fault. Chewed on wrong side. OUCH. The aftertaste that I'm experiencing is something akin to an unpleasant smell. I can't put my finger on it. Yuck. OW. Teeth. This is definitely not for me. Oh, bollocks.

I'll take a picture.

Kelly, want the rest of this?

Businesswoman

2005-03-09T15:33:00.000-05:00

That's me. I've taken the plunge. The big plunge. I have just rented prime storefront space to open a ceramics studio and art/craft gallery. I have been wanting to do this for a long time and the time just seemed right. I also got a great deal on the space. (This is also in keeping with my birthday commitment to make loads of sweet moolah.) So, it's goodbye technical writing. Thank you, Lord!

In the past, I have always found this strange oxymoron to be very true: The busier you are, the more you get done. Years of working from home have proven this time and time again. When you have no schedule, you tend to get lazy. You swear it won't happen to you, but it does. I think that with this business, I am creating the perfect balance of working for myself, but outside the home. It will be MY store, with MY office. I know that spending so much time there will not only enable me to run the business, but inspire me to finish my books as well. I feel like I am finally going to create the life I have envisioned. Or at least a slightly-less-exciting version of that dream. But I'm getting there.

I've gotten this far now. I've gotten up the necessary courage to start something scary. Tornado chasing and auditioning for community theatre really can't be far away. Then, I'll have everything I've ever wanted.

Business owner
Author
Tornado chaser
Local actor

AAAAAAAHHHHH.... I'm getting closer.

So, I'll be posting pictures as the store progresses. I anticipate an opening day of May 1. Everybody come to Murrysville when you need to get an art-on. HA HA HA

Oh, and right before opening day, I'm getting that blue streak in my hair. You only go around once.

IRS

2005-03-04T16:39:00.000-05:00

Oh, my God. It's likely that I am too enraged to manage a coherent post today. I just returned from a day of errands which included a trip to the IRS outpost to gather some information for business purposes.

I don't even know where to begin.

I admit that government offices give me the creeps. Entering any government office makes me instantly more bitter than usual, and crueler. First off, I'm angry because I'm more than likely dealing with some kind of bullshit beauraucracy wherein I owe money. Second, I can't stand goverment employees. I theorize that upon applying for their government jobs, they must turn in a full-body Polaroid, just so that the hiring panel can ensure that they are homely and uncool enough to represent. The de rigeur homeliness and unfashionable footwear doesn't anger me as much as the utter smugness that they all seem to possess. I suppose this comes from better-than-average (to say the least) job security. And that's just for starters.

I made my way to the IRS office this morning, already kinda late for another appointment. I knew that getting in and out of there quickly was an impossible dream, but I didn't realize it was downright delusional. I thought I might get lucky. Why I entertained this notion remains a mystery. On my way in, I slipped and fell on a patch of ice right at the door. My IRS bitterness kicked in with great suddenness, and I immediately had visions of suing the IRS. I'm sure I broke my ass. I'm sure I got whiplashed or something. I could get some of my money back. AHHHHHH... But then I remembered that I'm against that litigious sort of thing. Crap. Principles are SO inconvenient.

So, I got to the IRS office door, and it clearly said, "FRIDAYS : BY APPOINTMENT ONLY." The bile rose higher. I went in anyway and saw people waiting with little number tickets. I spoke to the first lady in line

Me: Do you have an appointment?
Her: No. I called to make one and they said they don't take appointments.
Me: But it says on the door in big red letters....
Her: Yeah. I know. IRS for ya. You better take a number.
Me: Yeah, OK. Thanks.

I looked around then and saw that today, on March 4, the height of tax season, the office had one person working and a sea of empty cubicles. And yes, that one person moved with all the speed of someone who knows she can never be fired. Raping the citizenry is a booming industry, after all. Completely dejected, and still painful of buttock, I went over to the little ticket dispenser and got my number. I looked at it. There was a slogan on it. It said, "IRS Field Offices : Balancing Customer Service With Compliance." Do I even need to tell you how this made me feel? First of all, CUSTOMER?

BULL

SHIT!

Second of all, COMPLIANCE?

Screw YOU! That sounds very Borg-like, don'tcha think? Resistance is futile.

<---click here

As I stood there, quickly reaching maximum compression, I realized the absurdity of what I was doing. I was standing in line with a little number in my hand. I was willingly waiting there, so that Smugly McBadhair, a.k.a. Locutus of Borg, could complicate the process of robbing me of every penny she could. I was queueing up to be slapped across the face, in an institution I consider to be unconstitutional and immoral.

In the end, I waited 45 minutes. When I got to Locutus's desk, I managed to calm myself and told her what I needed. Her response was:

"We don't do that here. Call this 800 number. You can fill out the paperwork while you sit on hold. NEXT!"

I give you : Dante's lesser-known level of hell. Level 1040-EZ.

Welcome.

Matrix

2005-03-02T10:49:00.000-05:00

I am fascinated by the fact that there is an entire world within academia dedicated to sholarly works regarding pop culture. PhDs gather at conferences to discuss Buffy, Madonna, and Baywatch. This is amusing, as well as very interesting to me. Now, I'm sure it won't surprise you to learn that I view most things "scholarly" with an eye of suspicion. I am turned off by the useless scholarly terminology, turned off by the cleverer-than-thou attitudes and condescending tone, and turned off by many scholars themselves. As one PhD candidate friend of mine says, "I hope they don't actually force me to trade in my social skills." (Of course, I must point out that I have a few friends who are notable exceptions to this rule, and a few acquaintances who practically define the rule.)

Anyway, I have recently become very interested in the complex symbolism within The Matrix trilogy, which I had heretofore avoided. Mostly, the web is full of rubes who think they are wicked clever by informing me that "Neo means new, and if you rearrange the letters, you get One." Wow. What a fucking revelation. Some even went so far as to tell me that Neo is a Christ figure. Really? I'd never have gotten that on my own. I was looking for something a little deeper, and unfortunately, the only way to get there was to turn to the academic demagogues. For enlightenment, I looked to some of these scholarly articles to see if I could find anything of worth, and I did, well, kinda. These are the best articles I found, in The Journal of Religion and Film, via the University of Nebraska.

So, if you feel like delving a little into Gnosticism and Buddhism and Morpheus, try these out. If you read only one, choose the second in the list.

Reassessing The Matrix/Reloaded - This guy is obviously a little of a blowhard, but he makes some interesting points.

Wake up! Gnosticism and Buddhism in The Matrix - Probably the most succinct, straightforward, and enlightening article of the three. Certainly, it is the least annoying. Probably because it was written by women.

Buddhism, Christianity, and The Matrix:The Dialectic of Myth-Making in Contemporary Cinema1 - The most obtuse of the three, using the highest volume of annoying scholarly buzzwords. BIG WORD MAKE BOBO LOOK SMART.

Cowell

2005-03-02T10:39:00.000-05:00

Cowell
A Sensitive Haiku by Kristine

Often, you're pompous,
And clearly, you bleach your teeth.
I think I love you.

Grump

2005-03-01T13:24:00.000-05:00

Just because it's how I'm feeling today, here are ten things that piss me off. They are in no particular order. NH, I'm borrowing your format. Please forgive.

1. People who do things in a half-assed manner. If it's worth doing, it's worth doing right.

2. Iceberg lettuce: A nutritional and taste wasteland. When a restaurant puts this garbage in my salad, my first instinct is to freak out completely, and throw the salad all over the place. Then I regain control and just eat it, like a good girl.

3. Unsolicited advice and/or suggestions on how to improve my life. When I want your opinion, I'll give it to you.

4. Committed pessimists. Stay the hell away from me. I'm actually trying here.

5. Scatological humor of ANY kind. Grow the hell up. The only exceptions to this rule are as follows: A) Using the word piss in the phrase pissed off. All other uses of the word should be banned, because YUCK. B) Using the word shit when referring to something that is subpar. e.g. My car is a piece of shit. C) Bullshit is always welcome, because it's a funny word, and was actually one of my first words. (Thanks, Dad.) Other than that, I am totally disgusted by scatological humor and wording.

6. People who tailor their tastes and likes to the group around them. I can actually smell the pathetic on these people. And it smells real bad.

7. Puffy jagoffs who are too fucking important to be nice to their waitress or any other poor sap toiling away in a service job. Karma, baby! I hope YOU are slicing meat behind a deli counter some day.

8. Places that sell iced tea, but don't have any fresh lemon. Or, even worse, places that purport to sell iced tea, when it is, in actuality, instant tea. What coffee drinker would put up with this?

9. People who flash their money around so everyone knows they have it (which usually means they are swimming in debt) or people who play poor (which usually means they have money but don't want you to know it). Either way, it's sickeningly obvious.

10. Filthy public restrooms. These piss me off, but I am assured by my b&c that women's rooms are far less disgusting than men's rooms. He can trump my most disturbing stories of restroom filth by a long shot, every time. Apparently, I can never win this competition, EVER, because of one particularly repulsive incident in the men's room at the Star Lake Amphitheatre. He won't even tell me the details.

Runner-up: People who read my blog but never leave me little notes. You know who you are, you, you, blogreading non-note leaving wimp! Why, I oughta.... Just kidding, SuperJeans, you can read all you want. And I think SuperJeans is your perfect secret name. HA HA HA HA

Liveplasma

2005-02-24T14:14:00.000-05:00

Kelly's post of the name tool made me remember this totally wicked time-waster. Say goodbye to your afternoon.

LIVEPLASMA

Once you get a "music map", be sure to click directly on some of the "pods". It's too cool for school.

Update

2005-02-24T13:35:00.000-05:00

Here's an update on topics I've left for dead.

--Ballroom dancing starts tonight. I'll be cuttin' a rug with my Snuffaluffagus at 7pm. Now THIS should be interesting. I hope class isn't cancelled due to the snowstorm. That would just prolong the suffering of said muppet, and give him another week to think about it. We need to get this over with.

--I have yet to find tap lessons. I'm giving up and ordering a video.

--My bedroom is not yet finished. I'm sleeping in there, but still no windows. This seemed like so much fun at first; waking up late and thinking it's still the middle of the night, only to emerge from the cave-like atmosphere completely confused, like a bear coming out of hibernation. The sleeping has been good, but now I'm starting to sleep in and I can't have that. Pics as soon as I get windows.

Villainy

2005-02-24T10:28:00.000-05:00

OOOOH! I wanna play too! Lifted from Kelly, who found it on Mysterious Cloaked Figure, here are my top five villains of all time. Hope I'm not too late for the party!

I don't tend to go for villains that are the scariest, but the ones I find to be the most fun. So here we go...

Spike Y'all know if I didn't pick good ol' William the Bloody, something would be terribly wrong. His geeky, sad, poet-y, and tragic past made him The Big Bad, and then he got that bloody chip in his head. I adore that evil, soulless thing.

Citizen Chauvelin from The Scarlet Pimpernel. He's dark, he's French, and he's so very sad. He takes it all out by wielding Madame Guillotine and lopping the heads off of the aristocracy. What fun!

Lucius Malfoy from Harry Potter He's so eeeeeevil! And he's so creepysexycool as played by the lovely Jason Isaacs. Voldemort Shmoldemort is too lame to ever show his face, while Lucius is out there, in the trenches, dredging up evil, middle-management-style. Gotta love him. Hmph. What the heck is with me and the peroxide kings? In real life, I hate that!

Magua from last of the Mohicans. Now THAT is one scary dude with some serious anger management issues. Only pure evil would try to kill noble Hawkeye. Plus, I think I'll pass on being scalped. OUCH.

The Mouth of Sauron from LOTR. OK, how totally creepy can one guy be? Like Lucius Malfoy, he's out there, doing the dirty work of a bigger evil that's too wussy or weak to show himself. Does he really think he'll ever get promoted beyong being a scabby, blind freak in serious need of an Oral-B?

I've gotta pick one runner-up, too. I didn't want to pick two Buffy characters, but one deserves mention. Glory. Because she's

SO

DAMN

FUNNY

Flicks

2005-02-22T10:09:00.000-05:00

As I am wont to do at this time of year, I have been on a complete movie binge. I have sucked in more flickage in the last week than I care to admit. I've been watching one every night, and went out to see one yesterday. I have two more to see before the Oscars, so that I can be a real hypocrite and sit there and pretend I'm offended and uninterested in the wearings and ramblings of a bunch of self-congratulatory Hollywood pinheads.

So here they are. Less movie review and more "Kristine's visceral reactions to movies".

The Station Agent: Excellent, I thought, and very original. It's not often you see a dwarf in a serious role, and I think Peter Dinklage was very deserving of that Oscar nom last year.

Ray: Yeah, Jamie Foxx will win for best actor, unless somehow Clint Eastwood steals it away. Personally, I'm all about Clint, but I think Jamie did a very fine job as Ray Charles. I just don't think the movie itself was at all deserving of the Oscar nomination. Even with the realization that this was a true story, I think it could have been done with much more originality. As it was, it was little better than an episode of "Behind the Music, " and equally predictable. I'm awfully bored with the standard musician "my childhood was hard, I'm talented, I'm good, I'm on drugs, I'm famous, I'm SO bad, I'm on a journey of redemption, I can see clearly now, the rain is gone" charater arc. Or, as Doctor Denis Leary put it so well, when referring to the Doors Movie:

I'm drunk. I'm nobody.
I'm drunk. I'm famous.
I'm drunk. I'm fuckin' dead.

Sideways: Yeah, baby, it was all about wine, and people far wine-snobbier than myself. It was also vulgar, and extremely funny, at times. In the end, I really liked it, but it left me with a grey day depression. Whenever I watch a movie about people with totally unremarkable lives, I leave the theatre, take a good look at the bleak winter surroundings, and think, "Shit. My life is just as unremarkable. My environment is just as unremarkable. I'm unremarkable. But now Paul Giamatti is going to go to the Oscars for playing, well, me." If unremarkable makes an Oscar-winning screenplay, make way for the Willownator! I'd like to thank the academy **sniff sniff** and all the people who said a white girl from Pittsburgh would never make it.

Friday Night Lights: Football, Texas, and overzealous rednecks. What's not to love? I have to give this movie credit for not being totally tiresome, and for avoiding the Hollywood ending. I said to my spousal unit, as we started watching, "Place your bets now. Will he catch the slow-motion pass at the end?" But for once, I was sorta wrong. It ended rather unremarkably, and therefore, see above. Good acting from the football kiddies, and a good performance from Billy Ray Cyrus, or wait, Billy Bob Thornton. Whatever. It was good stuff, if you likey a football movie. Personally, I liked it better than Any Given Sunday, which was too raw for my tastes.

Well, I still need to see The Aviator, if I can look at Leonardo DiCraprio for that long without becoming ill, and Million Dollar Baby, which I actually expect to like. On Oscar night, I'll be sitting there, properly prepared, tiara-ed, and popcorn-ed, but I will turn off the TV instantly if I hear one of those delusional freaks use the phrase, "I think we made an important movie." Screw you.

Beast?

2005-02-17T23:50:00.000-05:00

HA HA!! I LOVE it! Admittedly, I kinda wanted to be Storm, 'cause, you know, weather. But hey, BEAST!

You scored as Beast. Codename: The Beast
Full Name: Henry P. McCoy
Mutant Powers: Increased agility, strength and stamina.

Henry "Hank" McCoy is a founding member of the X-Men. Among all his original teamates, Hank had the best childhood, between loving parents, and so his temper and way of living was one of the happiest at the mansion. Beast's mutation at first was hardly noticable, but while away from the team, Hank made a terrible mistake: testing a new substance that he was using to study the x-factor. Beast tried the substance on himself. This caused a further mutation on his body, covering him with gray fur (that later became blue), fangs and great nails. He had then indeed become a "beast".

One of the only students at the mansion who took up an education beyond that of the Xavier school, Beast's studies were in the biogenetic area of his field. Possessing a quick wit, a wry sense of humour, and scholarly wisdom, he also has a penchant for quoting the classics and poetry. Despite his beastly exterior, he is possesess incredible genius, making him one of the most intellingent minds in the world.

Beast

85%

Iceman

80%

Shadowcat

80%

Banshee

70%

Cyclops

70%

Wolverine

65%

Professor X

65%

Colossus

60%

Jean Grey

60%

Rogue

55%

Nightcrawler

50%

Storm

45%

Archangel

30%

Which X-Men member are You?
created with QuizFarm.com

Blogger

2005-02-16T09:17:00.000-05:00

Well, these "improvements" to Blogger are dubious at best. They need to make it so that avatars appear in the actual comments section. They also need to provide a spell-checker, not that anyone else cares, but that's a diffferent rant.

Tap

2005-02-16T08:35:00.000-05:00

Ever since I was but a wee sprout, I have loved to dance. Any kind of dancing is OK by me, and I took lessons for 8 years in my youth, and then even did a little swing dancing in college. I actually got to be pretty good, on pointe and all that. In all that time, I never concentrated much on tap dancing, because then, it seemed like the least sexy of the styles, and I could only do so much. What little girl doesn't want to do ballet? I put it to ya. But I love it and I miss it.

Fast forward to me, now 36 years old. URGH. I am overweight and have never been that big an eater. Diet has never been my problem. Don't get me wrong. I do over-do it once in awhile, and my junk-food levels could use some tweaking, but still. For me it's always been about the exercise.

So, right after Christmas, I was feeling mighty fat and wondering what I could do that I would actually stick with and not hate. I decided dancing was the answer, and so I asked for a pair of tap shoes for my birthday. My mom came through, and I am now the proud owner of a pair of totally sexy tappers. Whenever the guys aren't here working, I put on the swing station on satellite radio and tap through my chores, and it is exhausting, but SO MUCH FUN. I'm totally into it. (I realize this makes me 100% dork, but it's not half as embarrassing as my singing broadway tunes in the shower and car.)

But get this. I cannot, to save my soul, find a studio in my area that gives lessons to adults. I just want some tap lessons, and I know they're out there. There's a big studio in Monroeville that I HEAR gives adult lessons, but they never pick up their phone. One studio right in my neck of the woods actually laughed when I asked. I'm starting to get really pissed off. I'm standing here, tap shoes in hand, cool urban wear ready to go, all Beavis-y, and I can't find lessons! I am completely convinced that I am a total natural (drummers usually are) but I can't find anyone to teach me. I think this is ridiculous.

On a happier note, my b&c and I start ballroom dancing lessons next week, with the other ungracefuls of Murrysville. He's all nervous about it, but I am SO excited. We'll be Fred & Ginger in no time. Well, probably more like Ginger and Snuffaluffagus, but hey, it'll be fun.

Messy

2005-02-12T14:28:00.000-05:00

Here, we're getting nearer completion. YAY! No more stupid ceiling fan, no more cinder block walls, and no more freezing my ass off every night!

Here's my master bathroom right now. What a damned disgrace. Luckily, we have a master bath as big as the bedroom, so everything fits and I can still use the shower. We couldn't put everything in the basement because that is being concurrently remodeled by my B&C. What a mess.

Here's the fireplace in my bedroom. Note the fugly yellow brick. It's about to become natural slate. I wish I had gotten a picture of it before they started to rip it up. It didn't look as bad as all this. But still. Yellow brick. Who even invented that shit?

Remodel

2005-02-05T15:17:00.000-05:00

I am a creature of habit, and I whine without mercy when my routine gets interrupted. So, this past week has been a whine-a-thon. My bedroom is being remodeled. This is entirely necessary and highly desirable. My bedroom is in a section of the house that was an addition, at some point before we purchased the place 9 years ago. The genius who built the addition decided to do it out of cinder block, with no insulation. For all this time, I have been freezing my ass off every winter. Finally, a roof leak caused a huge crack in the ceiling and the time for repair was at hand. You'd think I'd be happy and grateful to be getting a new bedroom. You'd think I'd be thinking of all the poor, unfortunate folks who have no decent house of their own. But no, I whine because I have to sleep on the couch for two weeks and my bed is upright in my bathroom. But still, it's getting done, and that's a very good thing. I get to pick out new paint and carpet tonight. But for the time being, I live in disarray.

This is my bedroom on Monday of this past week. Note the ceiling, now on the floor.

And this is an action shot of Jim doing something very construction-y. I think he'll be proud of the sheer manliness of this photo.

Fondue

2005-01-30T20:13:00.000-05:00

I love cheese fondue. It is one of those weird foods that you never really think to make for yourself, but there's no good reason for it. Over the last few days, I have not been able to stop thinking about fondue. As it happens, my dear friend gave me a fondue pot that she picked up at Goodwill for a buck. At first, I thought, "Yeah, cool and everything, but I know I'll never bother to make fondue. And I sure as hell don't need something else cluttering up my kitchen." But tonight, I decided to give in to my recent obsession, get a little Gruyere and go for it. I scoured many recipes and decided to go with Emeril's classic cheese fondue. I thought it a little heavy on the lemon, but I had a go.

Let me just say that this may be the single most delicious thing to ever pass my lips. It was better than The Melting Pot. Better than The Cheese Cellar. This is the best thing I've ever had. You've gotta make this stuff. The heavy addition of lemon made it absolutely sublime. Nothing like it. I skipped the nutmeg because I'm not a big fan of it, and I added extra garlic. Otherwise, I went for the recipe as written. Now all I have to do is wait a sensible amount of time before I have this again. There are no words. I'm tearing up a little just remembering.

Spring for the damn Gruyere. It's worth every penny.

Emeril's Cheese Fondue

For the record, we dipped French bread cubes and tart apples.

Dynamite

2005-01-27T10:59:00.000-05:00

See this movie. Immediately. Or I'll come after you with my Rex-Kwon-Do skills and a bowstaff, whatever that is.

Spike

2005-01-26T16:30:00.000-05:00

Spike was here when I got home this afternoon. He was all decked out with homemade streamers, and is trying to give me a strange glowing cube as a present. I'm a little afraid of that. It could be anything. Also, he says it's his birthday, too, and he's going off to get drunk and play kitten poker. Disgusting.

Old

2005-01-26T08:49:00.000-05:00

As of 1:28 this morning, I am old. I don't feel old. I feel rather childish and irresponsible, actually, and I'd like to continue to act that way. But I must face the numbers. Numbers never lie. I am 36 today, and I need to go out and buy some Oil of Olay. Or, as my dad called it, "Oil of Ol' Lady."

On the upside, I don't have grey hair, I don't have any lines or wrinkles (nor will I get them, thanks to Oil of Olay), I don't have any kids, I still like the cool music, and I have a sweet ride. With any luck, I've inherited my mother's ability to age imperceptibly.

So, I mean to take this on with aplomb. I'll forget about it in a few hours and go back to acting like an ass. I did when I turned 35. And this weekend, I will gather with many of my overeducated thirtysomething kidless compadres, eat cake, get drunk, and sing "Total Eclipse of the Heart" poorly, and in front of many strangers. Somehow, you get away with that when you are the loudest and largest group at the bar. Then I will realize how lucky I am.

My goals for my new year are as follows:

Lose the weight.
Make tons of sweet, sweet, moolah.
Watch Napoleon Dynamite at least once per month, just to keep me in check.
Get more mad skills.
Learn what a bowstaff is and how to use one.
Finish the book(s).
Stop writing depressing blog entries, and get on with the nonsense.

"My name is Sally O'Malley, and I'm here to reclaim the runway for real women! And I'm FIFTY! I like to kick, and stretch, and KICK! I'm FIFTY!"

Kelly

2005-01-25T15:27:00.000-05:00

Ever the queen of procrastination, I finally got around to adding Kelly to my blogroll. Welcome, fellow lover of all things Buffy.

Cowher

2005-01-24T10:44:00.001-05:00

I feel I just need to say, for the record, that this loss does nothing, and I mean nothing, to change my feelings about the awesome might that is Bill Cowher. Belichik be damned. Cowher is the greatest coach in the NFL. And I swear, if I hear any sniping and grousing about how Cowher can't win "the big one", I will come after each and every offender personally, and kick some whiny ass. Every single fan, if they're being honest, KNOWS that Cowher is not the reason for this loss. So I DO NOT want to hear it.

Blame Canada.

Anxiety

2005-01-20T13:57:00.000-05:00

If you've read my blog in the past, you know that I am a person who is susceptible to anxiety. Really susceptible. Not depression, so much, but anxiety. And I'm here to tell you that right now, there is just too much going on. I'm forced to stop and physically calm myself rather frequently. I LOVE YOU, YOGA. But even with the yoga, I'm kind of freaking out. Here's the INTJ list of anxiety-inducers:

1. I am turning 36 in less than one week. That is unacceptable, and I think I am about to have a crisis over it. I'm still unsure about what I'm supposed to do with my life and if I should have children. I feel like I'm always watching that 60-Minutes clock.

2. China is building up, militarily, along their borders. Maybe I'm making too much of it, but it feels bad. It's China. They don't have a history of being reasonable.

3. War in Iraq, scary. General world situation, scary. I can't take hearing the word "Fallujah" one more time. I can't bear seeing one more picture of prisoner abuse.

4. Every time I see football on TV, any football, even the mere mention of football, I start to taste metal. I don't know if I'll make it through this Steeler game on Sunday. A desire this great over something as stupid as football is lame, I know, but it's me. Last night, I watched a re-hash of the Jets game and I started yelling at the TV as if it were all happening all over again. And I got so tense that my shoulder almost became lodged in my ear.

5. My house is a mess right now and I can't get it under control. I clean and my spousal unit goes through it like a tornado, and I can't stand living in clutter.

6. I am trying to write a book, and it feels like I keep taking three steps forward and four steps back. It's starting to get to me. I think I may have to start working outside my home for awhile, to see if that helps. Cafes, libraries, something.

I could go on, but I won't. Suffice it to say that this is a really good time for me to be staying away from caffeine. Maybe I'm just going through one of my hermit phases, and I'll feel better soon. I hope so.

In the interest of losing weight, I have limited my wine intake to one night per week. I think this is good, but maybe the drinking was keeping me calm. I'm not finding it difficult to stay at one night per week, and I don't crave the booze, but maybe my nightly glass was keeping me saner. Is this possible?

Hat

2005-01-14T10:26:00.000-05:00

You know, I had a very close male friend in college who was very fond of being "properly dressed" all the time. And I do mean ALL THE TIME. People would make fun of him for wearing pressed pants and French cuffs every day, and a fedora when he went out. I always wondered what it is in people that would compel them to make fun of someone for looking spiffy.

A few years back, I was in Texas. While there, I bought a really cool cowboy hat. I had no good way to carry it home except to wear it. In the Dallas airport, I was ignored, as my attire was de rigueur. Once I got into Pittsburgh, though, I got stares, and one guy found it necessary to mock me by saying, as I waited for my luggage, in toothy redneck-ese, "Well, I reckon we're in for a cool snap." He laughed right at me and clearly thought he was the cleverest man since Shakespeare, and so did the bimbo on his arm. This from a guy who was wearing a leather jacket with billiard balls on the back. Beside the point, I was forced to respond in perfect Pittsburghese, "What kinda jagoffs are yinz anyway?" Then in upper-crusty English accent, "It's just a hat, for heaven's sake. Do, get a life for yourself." Not a witty retort, I realize, but it certainly shut him up. I think I confused him. Dick.

One other time, my friend and I went to Metropol (a formerly-cool Pittsburgh night club)and she wore a hat that she had bought at a thrift store. It was clearly vintage and had a very cool 40's vibe. Back in the day, Metropol was a place where you could express yourself with strange garment decisions, and nobody would be bothered by it. But by then, it had turned into a backwards-hat-fraternity-asshole paradise. These stupid walking beer bongs had no idea what the music was even about, and the cool punkers had moved on. So anyway, the hat got stares and a few mean comments.

And so, I put it out there: Why are folks so threatened by someone who can boldly be different? Why would people judge you by your hat? Does this make any sense at all? And furthermore, why is the baseball cap the only legal hat these days? I like hats and I want to wear them all the time. Can we all just please wear hats? Do I need to create a national holiday? I have many cool hats and I'm afraid of wearing them.

So that's it. National Hat Week. I'll figure out the dates and create a button if you will all vow to be chapeau-ed. Wheeeee!