So clearly it's been a while since I've updated. My only excuse is that I don't have anything to say. I know -- gasp -- a writer with nothing to say!! Well, face it, I'm only human.
Work is extra busy, I'm hosting two parties this weekend and my biggest complaint is that it appears the Counting Crows have stopped producing new material all together. They haven't had an album out since I last went to Klamath Falls for Thanksgiving, which was at least 4 years ago. Get with it, people!
I'm growing cucumbers and basil on my balcony. What good is a balcony if you can't grow plants in the summer? Last year I *attempted* to grow tomatoes and cucumbers. Steve graciously brought me a tomato plant all the way to work from the Takoma Park farmers market and then I went on vacation, neglecting the poor thing, and when I got back they were both scorched to death. That must be an unpleasant way to go -- wasting in the summer sun while your once loving owner ignores you. I did promise myself I would never subject a plant to my lack of responsibility again, so either I've grown up and think I can handle taking care of something other than myself, or I've lied to myself and the plants will suffer for it. So far, I'm happy to report that they are doing well. I even planted them from seed. The cucumbers are now almost 5 inches tall and the basil is soon going to garnish one of the best sandwiches ever made.
For anyone who's keeping track, the building next door is up to floor 11! Yikes. They are moving along with that project. I will start posting photos now of the progress, because it's pretty interesting. And soon the madness of them hammering at 7am will be a figment of my memory. Safely locked away.
Wednesday, June 14, 2006
Tuesday, June 06, 2006
Word of the Day: Mawkish
mawk·ish ( P ) Pronunciation Key (môksh)
adj.
Excessively and objectionably sentimental.
Sickening or insipid in taste.
I won't get all sentimental right now because it's still 3 months away, but my good and most worthy friend Todd Bullock, known to some of you as Tofu Todd, and still others as The Rancid Goat, has just today been posted with the foreign service to Afghanistan. He will leave in September and I will miss him dearly. I do hope that The Rancid Goat returns with Tales from Over There, or something similar. If you only knew the sort of messes the Rancid Goat gets himself into...
Just this weekend Todd and I found ourselves trapped in the most pretentious club in all of D.C. The place was crawling with metrosexuals, Euro-trash and way too many bums and boobs about to precariously unveil themselves. While waiting in line to get in, three nice looking gentlemen sidled up to a group of single women, just so they could get in. Apprently there were too many men inside. "This is my kinda place," I said to Todd. However, it took approximately three seconds to realize it was neither my kind of place nor my kind of people who were in there.
We hung around for exactly 45 excrutiatingly long minutes before bailing for the comforts of a less artificial environment. Clydes, with its regular drinks, calm atmosphere and sports playing on mute above the bar, suited us much better than the bizarre alter-world we'd stepped into earlier. Just where do these people come from? They aren't all that attractive (this isn't NYC, after all) and why does a bottle of Grey Goose cost $200??
Anyway, this story just illustrates why Todd is a good friend that I will miss greatly. I can, at the last minute, drag him to a place neither of us will like, and he will still stick around for Clyde's.
Todd. You rock.
adj.
Excessively and objectionably sentimental.
Sickening or insipid in taste.
I won't get all sentimental right now because it's still 3 months away, but my good and most worthy friend Todd Bullock, known to some of you as Tofu Todd, and still others as The Rancid Goat, has just today been posted with the foreign service to Afghanistan. He will leave in September and I will miss him dearly. I do hope that The Rancid Goat returns with Tales from Over There, or something similar. If you only knew the sort of messes the Rancid Goat gets himself into...
Just this weekend Todd and I found ourselves trapped in the most pretentious club in all of D.C. The place was crawling with metrosexuals, Euro-trash and way too many bums and boobs about to precariously unveil themselves. While waiting in line to get in, three nice looking gentlemen sidled up to a group of single women, just so they could get in. Apprently there were too many men inside. "This is my kinda place," I said to Todd. However, it took approximately three seconds to realize it was neither my kind of place nor my kind of people who were in there.
We hung around for exactly 45 excrutiatingly long minutes before bailing for the comforts of a less artificial environment. Clydes, with its regular drinks, calm atmosphere and sports playing on mute above the bar, suited us much better than the bizarre alter-world we'd stepped into earlier. Just where do these people come from? They aren't all that attractive (this isn't NYC, after all) and why does a bottle of Grey Goose cost $200??
Anyway, this story just illustrates why Todd is a good friend that I will miss greatly. I can, at the last minute, drag him to a place neither of us will like, and he will still stick around for Clyde's.
Todd. You rock.
Wednesday, May 31, 2006
Word of the Day: Vexatious
vex·a·tious ( P ) Pronunciation Key (vk-sshs)
adj.
Causing or creating vexation; annoying.
Full of annoyance or distress; harassed.
Intended to vex or annoy.
You know those kind of flip flops people wear that make incredible noise when you walk -- thunk, thunk, thunk?
An earlier conversation with coworker:
This post on a blog I found has exactly the comments I want to make about flip flops, except if I posted all my complaints about them on here, you'd probably all stop reading because you'd think I was a lunatic. (P.S. I'm only crazy when it comes to strange and annoying office noises.) Here's my favorite comment:
Addition: Perfect, the Washington Post doesn't like flip flops either!
adj.
Causing or creating vexation; annoying.
Full of annoyance or distress; harassed.
Intended to vex or annoy.
You know those kind of flip flops people wear that make incredible noise when you walk -- thunk, thunk, thunk?
An earlier conversation with coworker:
Ali: Are those your flip-flops I keep hearing?What is wrong with society that we must wear shoes that clearly serve no purpose but to annoy the hell out of coworkers as you thunk thunk thunk down the hall, back and forth, in and out of the kitchen, to the bathroom, to the printer, back to your desk. Lady, you're HURTING me!
Me: Even you suggesting that hurts me violently. I am about ready to go chop off that woman's feet. If she doesn't stop walking around in those things, I'm going to have to quit.
This post on a blog I found has exactly the comments I want to make about flip flops, except if I posted all my complaints about them on here, you'd probably all stop reading because you'd think I was a lunatic. (P.S. I'm only crazy when it comes to strange and annoying office noises.) Here's my favorite comment:
Flip flops are hell for me. You know that *thing* that just drives you up the wall for no discernable reason and makes you want to rip off heads and scream and you have to look at pictures of cute baby animals until you calm down? Yep, that’s flip flops for me. Both the thwap-thwap when they pick up their feet and the skoosh-skoosh when they don’t. Aiee.
Addition: Perfect, the Washington Post doesn't like flip flops either!
Flip-flop defenders like to point to how comfortable they are. You know what? So are pajamas. And bathrobes. But you don't see your co-workers rolling up to the office in tank tops and flannel pants, do you?
Tuesday, May 30, 2006
Hot!
It's predicted to be 92 degrees today. That's fabulous. Don't get me wrong. I love warm weather. However, with weather changes comes the inevitable days worth of suffering in this office because whoever runs the temperature is incompetent.
Right now it is 80 degrees outside. But it is 82 degrees in the building. How does this occur? Do they get kicks out of turning up the heat just before the poor workers come back from the long weekend? "Burn um out!" Or is it the bosses making this decision? "We can't fire them, so we'll just make them sweat a little."
My coworker was locked out of her storage shed over the weekend and couldn't get her summer clothes out so she is currently wearing long sleeves and heavy wool pants. At least I'm not her. Darn it's hot.
Right now it is 80 degrees outside. But it is 82 degrees in the building. How does this occur? Do they get kicks out of turning up the heat just before the poor workers come back from the long weekend? "Burn um out!" Or is it the bosses making this decision? "We can't fire them, so we'll just make them sweat a little."
My coworker was locked out of her storage shed over the weekend and couldn't get her summer clothes out so she is currently wearing long sleeves and heavy wool pants. At least I'm not her. Darn it's hot.
Friday, May 26, 2006
Word of the Day: Abandoned
So here it is, the Friday before Memorial Day weekend and I am the only -- yes, the only -- person still in the office. My coworkers mostly all took the day off. That's fine. Except, they let us out early today, as the goverment sometimes does, and because my lovely coworkers are not here to do their jobs, I must stay and do their jobs for them before I can leave. Now when they said they were taking the day off, I didn't know this would keep me from taking part in the early release. Now I'm bummed.
It's quiet in here. And I'm a little scared. Deserted cubes and empty office air is a little worrisome to me. Who knows what could happen in an office when you're alone. All the lights might shut off soon, actually, because they are on a sensor and the only thing in the room that is moving is my fingers on the keyboard.
Oh how I despise the Photo of the Day.
To keep myself busy in the deserted realm of my pitiful existence in this office, I am looking up old Top Ten lists. Here's a good one for the weekend.
Top Ten Signs A Guest At Your Memorial Day Barbecue Is A Spy
10. He introduces himself as "00-Larry."
9. Keeps whispering into the potato salad.
8. Embarrassing slip up -- refers to A-1 Sauce as "The B-1 Bomber."
7. Seems oddly knowledgeable about who wants a burger and who wants a hot dog.
6. Kid who beats him in sack race sent to Siberian prison.
5. Asks if the hibachi has a gyroscopic laser guidance system.
4. Wears an apron which reads, "Kiss the spy."
3. You ask him how he likes his burger -- he bites down on a cyanide tablet.
2. After a couple drinks starts telling you nuclear launch codes.
1. He seems awfully interested in the Titan missiles you keep in the shed.
It's quiet in here. And I'm a little scared. Deserted cubes and empty office air is a little worrisome to me. Who knows what could happen in an office when you're alone. All the lights might shut off soon, actually, because they are on a sensor and the only thing in the room that is moving is my fingers on the keyboard.
Oh how I despise the Photo of the Day.
To keep myself busy in the deserted realm of my pitiful existence in this office, I am looking up old Top Ten lists. Here's a good one for the weekend.
Top Ten Signs A Guest At Your Memorial Day Barbecue Is A Spy
10. He introduces himself as "00-Larry."
9. Keeps whispering into the potato salad.
8. Embarrassing slip up -- refers to A-1 Sauce as "The B-1 Bomber."
7. Seems oddly knowledgeable about who wants a burger and who wants a hot dog.
6. Kid who beats him in sack race sent to Siberian prison.
5. Asks if the hibachi has a gyroscopic laser guidance system.
4. Wears an apron which reads, "Kiss the spy."
3. You ask him how he likes his burger -- he bites down on a cyanide tablet.
2. After a couple drinks starts telling you nuclear launch codes.
1. He seems awfully interested in the Titan missiles you keep in the shed.
Wednesday, May 24, 2006
Word of the Day: Apocryphal
a·poc·ry·phal
Of questionable authorship or authenticity.
Erroneous; fictitious
Apocryphal Bible. Of or having to do with the Apocrypha.
Get this. A man is suing the Catholic Church for proof that Jesus existed.
I'm not kidding. It's on CNN.
He says the church is doing a lot of harm by continuing to profess that the man they build their credibility on is in fact not all that credible. He argues that all the historical proof of Jesus is not exactly "historical" but is merely fictional representations used to write a book, The Bible. He calls it a "con" and an abuse of the public's faith, the claim that Jesus ever existed. He calls Jesus a fictional "character", a mythical figure used to tell parables.
Use some common sense, man! Are you saying that Jesus is Coyote??
He sued a priest because he couldn't sue the Pope. The case was then stopped because the prosecutor said there was no evidence to take the process farther because there was no way to confirm or confute the claim that Jesus was who the church professes he is. The church claims there is evidence in the gospels and in Greek and Jewish histories. But this man claims that the gospels cannot prove Jesus.
Okay, I tend to agree with him that the Bible cannot prove the Bible. Many times the church uses this sort of circular reasoning. But it seems to me there are enough historical accounts of Jesus outside of church documents, including the sarcophogus of James, Jesus' brother, which states "James, brother of Jesus" on the side in script.
But let's assume Jesus was not real, that he was indeed a mythical figure. Darn. Millions and millions of people are going to feel pretty stupid upon death when they find this out for themselves. The thing is, I'd rather spend a lifetime believing in a fairytale then an eternity burning in hell.
Of questionable authorship or authenticity.
Erroneous; fictitious
Apocryphal Bible. Of or having to do with the Apocrypha.
Get this. A man is suing the Catholic Church for proof that Jesus existed.
I'm not kidding. It's on CNN.
He says the church is doing a lot of harm by continuing to profess that the man they build their credibility on is in fact not all that credible. He argues that all the historical proof of Jesus is not exactly "historical" but is merely fictional representations used to write a book, The Bible. He calls it a "con" and an abuse of the public's faith, the claim that Jesus ever existed. He calls Jesus a fictional "character", a mythical figure used to tell parables.
Use some common sense, man! Are you saying that Jesus is Coyote??
He sued a priest because he couldn't sue the Pope. The case was then stopped because the prosecutor said there was no evidence to take the process farther because there was no way to confirm or confute the claim that Jesus was who the church professes he is. The church claims there is evidence in the gospels and in Greek and Jewish histories. But this man claims that the gospels cannot prove Jesus.
Okay, I tend to agree with him that the Bible cannot prove the Bible. Many times the church uses this sort of circular reasoning. But it seems to me there are enough historical accounts of Jesus outside of church documents, including the sarcophogus of James, Jesus' brother, which states "James, brother of Jesus" on the side in script.
But let's assume Jesus was not real, that he was indeed a mythical figure. Darn. Millions and millions of people are going to feel pretty stupid upon death when they find this out for themselves. The thing is, I'd rather spend a lifetime believing in a fairytale then an eternity burning in hell.
Monday, May 22, 2006
An Ode to Elliot
Elliot...
This cool guy came to visit last week after spending the past year in the Israeli Army, which he enlisted himself into voluntarily in 2004. Why? I like to think he got bored of his job or he hated his friends or something (impossible seeing as we *are* his friends) ... but I think he just wanted to do something good with himself.
Maybe I should give Elliot a code name so I don't give away his identity in cyberspace. Only problem is I can't think of a good enough name. Michelle and I went to New York City in 2003 with Elliot to crash a party his friends were throwing. We had the best time and coincidentally came up with a title for a very interesting book "A British Guy on the Jersey Turnpike". And believe me, you don't ever want to come across one of those. Scary.
So anyway, that's the whole story. I told him I was going to take this photo and he wasn't all that happy about it, but this is why I took your picture, Elliot. We must preserve the memories. Just forget about that last shot we made you do. Big mistake. I hope you don't hate us.
Sunday, May 21, 2006
Word of the Day: Conflate
conflate \kuhn-FLAYT\, transitive verb:
1. To bring together; to fuse together; to join or meld.
2. To combine into one whole.
This weekend was so much fun. In order to illustrate, I must use photos. So welcome to my weekend slideshow:
First was Barb's Big Backyard BBQ: Barb is my awesome coworker. We all drove down to Fredericksburg to her amazing dream home that they built. It's gorgeous. The best part about the BBQ, aside from the yummy food and the good company, was that Michelle, Dida and I were together again.
And the bad part about Barb's party was the traffic. It took approximately 45 minutes to get there, and about 2.5 hours to get back. Therefore, I was a bit, okay a lot, late for Lindsey's birthday party. I don't have a photo of this stop. We went to her house for a bit and then out to Eleventh in Arlington (which I love) but I had a hard time loving it this time due to a HUGE headache that refused to go away.
And that brings us to Sunday. We had an awesome social with the best group of guys, our good friends, the Apples group. Why do we call them the Apples group? It has something to do with a game we played once. Anyway, I was asked how I met this group and it occured to me that it would make a good book. The first line would be "It all started on a boat on the Sea of Galilee." However it began, the Apples group is great fun. The BBQ was fabulous. The weather was perfect (mostly because we *thought* it would rain and it didn't). The company was great. And best of all, there was a bag and a half of charcoal leftover so I guess that means there are more BBQs in our future.
1. To bring together; to fuse together; to join or meld.
2. To combine into one whole.
This weekend was so much fun. In order to illustrate, I must use photos. So welcome to my weekend slideshow:
First was Barb's Big Backyard BBQ: Barb is my awesome coworker. We all drove down to Fredericksburg to her amazing dream home that they built. It's gorgeous. The best part about the BBQ, aside from the yummy food and the good company, was that Michelle, Dida and I were together again.
And the bad part about Barb's party was the traffic. It took approximately 45 minutes to get there, and about 2.5 hours to get back. Therefore, I was a bit, okay a lot, late for Lindsey's birthday party. I don't have a photo of this stop. We went to her house for a bit and then out to Eleventh in Arlington (which I love) but I had a hard time loving it this time due to a HUGE headache that refused to go away.
And that brings us to Sunday. We had an awesome social with the best group of guys, our good friends, the Apples group. Why do we call them the Apples group? It has something to do with a game we played once. Anyway, I was asked how I met this group and it occured to me that it would make a good book. The first line would be "It all started on a boat on the Sea of Galilee." However it began, the Apples group is great fun. The BBQ was fabulous. The weather was perfect (mostly because we *thought* it would rain and it didn't). The company was great. And best of all, there was a bag and a half of charcoal leftover so I guess that means there are more BBQs in our future.
Thursday, May 18, 2006
Word of the Day: Cliche
cli·ché also cliche ( P ) Pronunciation Key (kl-sh)
n.
A trite or overused expression or idea
A person or character whose behavior is predictable or superficial
Yesterday I skipped work to attend the Writer's Digest Writer's Conference in conjuction with the Book Expo of America. I was thrilled that Jerry B. Jenkins was there as the keynote speaker. He had a lot of insightful things to say, and a little bit of encouragement to the hopefuls in the audience. I don't know what I was expecting really -- possibly just some motivation and encouragement. I did come away with some of that, although most of the stuff I learned I already knew. I know that being a writer of anything these days means that you're going to have to wait through numerous rejections before getting published, if you ever do. I know that even when you do, oftentimes the product is not exactly what you expected. But I also know that to not write is not a choice for many writers. Me included. If I did not write, I would not be me. It's how I define myself and how I share myself with the world. Some people are able to express themselves to other people through discussion, and others express themselves through art, like painting and drawing and acting. To not put words on paper is like suffocating me with a heavy hand.
The only really crazy part was the lunch speaker who claimed that no one has original thoughts and we are actually making ourselves stupider by succumbing to what he calls "dimwitticisms". These dimwitticisms are colloquial and cliched andm etaphorical phrases that we say just by force of habit, such as "a dime a dozen" "piece of cake" "just in the knick of time" etc. The guy rattled off a hundred phrases we use everyday, and though they are undoubtedly overused and somewhat dim, there is no possible way to write and/or speak without using one. Try it. It's impossible. In any case (another dimwitticism) it would be just as vexing to try to speak without them as it is to use them repeatedly. Consider this sentence: The conference ran like clockwork, on the other hand, there was a heated debate over metaphors. If I were trying to avoid these dimwitticisms and replace them with original thoughts so I don't force my reader to become stupider, the sentence would have to look something like this: The conference was successful in that there were no problems and each activity pleased the attendees. Several conference attendees quarrelled about the overuse and/or misuse of specific phrases that make use of another object as a similar comparison for the original thought. Wouldn't you much prefer I just say it rather than muck it all up like that?
One thing I learned is that having a blog is quite beneficial to your eventual writing career so at least I have a headstart on that.
n.
A trite or overused expression or idea
A person or character whose behavior is predictable or superficial
Yesterday I skipped work to attend the Writer's Digest Writer's Conference in conjuction with the Book Expo of America. I was thrilled that Jerry B. Jenkins was there as the keynote speaker. He had a lot of insightful things to say, and a little bit of encouragement to the hopefuls in the audience. I don't know what I was expecting really -- possibly just some motivation and encouragement. I did come away with some of that, although most of the stuff I learned I already knew. I know that being a writer of anything these days means that you're going to have to wait through numerous rejections before getting published, if you ever do. I know that even when you do, oftentimes the product is not exactly what you expected. But I also know that to not write is not a choice for many writers. Me included. If I did not write, I would not be me. It's how I define myself and how I share myself with the world. Some people are able to express themselves to other people through discussion, and others express themselves through art, like painting and drawing and acting. To not put words on paper is like suffocating me with a heavy hand.
The only really crazy part was the lunch speaker who claimed that no one has original thoughts and we are actually making ourselves stupider by succumbing to what he calls "dimwitticisms". These dimwitticisms are colloquial and cliched andm etaphorical phrases that we say just by force of habit, such as "a dime a dozen" "piece of cake" "just in the knick of time" etc. The guy rattled off a hundred phrases we use everyday, and though they are undoubtedly overused and somewhat dim, there is no possible way to write and/or speak without using one. Try it. It's impossible. In any case (another dimwitticism) it would be just as vexing to try to speak without them as it is to use them repeatedly. Consider this sentence: The conference ran like clockwork, on the other hand, there was a heated debate over metaphors. If I were trying to avoid these dimwitticisms and replace them with original thoughts so I don't force my reader to become stupider, the sentence would have to look something like this: The conference was successful in that there were no problems and each activity pleased the attendees. Several conference attendees quarrelled about the overuse and/or misuse of specific phrases that make use of another object as a similar comparison for the original thought. Wouldn't you much prefer I just say it rather than muck it all up like that?
One thing I learned is that having a blog is quite beneficial to your eventual writing career so at least I have a headstart on that.
Monday, May 15, 2006
Hawaii
I realized that I never mentioned Hawaii on the blog when I got back except to say that life had gone completely back to normal the second I stepped off the plane. Ignoring the subject on my blog is a little like ignoring my wet and dirty shoes that were sufficiently wrapped in a plastic bag. I just discovered the bag yesterday and the shoes, I discovered, were encased in mold. Nothing a tumble in the washer can't fix. So I figure if I at least post some photos on my blog, it'll be a little like ridding the shoes of mold.
Michelle and I sat underneath this palm tree contemplating how much better life in Hawaii is than life in Washington DC. I could come up with a full list of reasons, but most of you already know them. So I'll spare you. Needless to say, one of the reasons is this very palm tree. And another is this:
The World's Best Mai Tai.
Michelle and I sat underneath this palm tree contemplating how much better life in Hawaii is than life in Washington DC. I could come up with a full list of reasons, but most of you already know them. So I'll spare you. Needless to say, one of the reasons is this very palm tree. And another is this:
The World's Best Mai Tai.
Friday, May 12, 2006
Word of the Day: Cotton
Oh how I wish I were laying between my lovely cotton sheets right now sleeping blissfully. Getting out of bed at 8am this morning was *not* a good idea.
But my comfy bed not what this entry is about, sadly. It's about cotton. Not the noun, but the verb. Who knew cotton could be used as a verb? Timoni pointed this out to me this morning and I feel it is important enough to tell the world about. You may have been living your life all this time without knowing you could use the word cotton as a verb in your vocabularly, thus severly limiting the amount of things you *could* be saying if you adopted it's use. So here is how you can add the cotton to your lexicon.
intr.v. cot·toned, cot·ton·ing, cot·tons
To take a liking; attempt to be friendly: a dog that didn't cotton to strangers; an administration that will cotton up to the most repressive of regimes.
To come to understand. Often used with to or onto: “The German bosses... never cottoned to such changes”
From now on, you can say things like "I cotton you" instead of the bland and overused "I like you".
"I cottoned him, he started to cotton me back" to show your compassionate attempt at friendship towards another.
The possibilities are endless that you'll start cottoning the word and will begin using it with frequency.
But my comfy bed not what this entry is about, sadly. It's about cotton. Not the noun, but the verb. Who knew cotton could be used as a verb? Timoni pointed this out to me this morning and I feel it is important enough to tell the world about. You may have been living your life all this time without knowing you could use the word cotton as a verb in your vocabularly, thus severly limiting the amount of things you *could* be saying if you adopted it's use. So here is how you can add the cotton to your lexicon.
intr.v. cot·toned, cot·ton·ing, cot·tons
To take a liking; attempt to be friendly: a dog that didn't cotton to strangers; an administration that will cotton up to the most repressive of regimes.
To come to understand. Often used with to or onto: “The German bosses... never cottoned to such changes”
From now on, you can say things like "I cotton you" instead of the bland and overused "I like you".
"I cottoned him, he started to cotton me back" to show your compassionate attempt at friendship towards another.
The possibilities are endless that you'll start cottoning the word and will begin using it with frequency.
Tuesday, May 09, 2006
Word of the Day: Crapulous
crapulous \KRAP-yuh-lus\, adjective:
1. Suffering the effects of, or derived from, or suggestive of gross intemperance, especially in drinking; as, a crapulous stomach.
2. Marked by gross intemperance, especially in drinking; as, a crapulous old reprobate
I've left the sunshine, the white sandy beaches and the fruity drinks of Hawaii in exchange for the life I've, for some unknown reason, opted to build for myself in Washington, D.C. I contemplated staying in Hawaii. I've designed a plan which would allow me to live in Hawaii year-round and generate enough cash to basically buy my own island if I chose to do so. My only hang-up with the plan is that it would require me to work early morning hours, and we all know that I'm incapable of doing that. Judging by the fact that I've missed the bus two mornings in a row, I don't see being able to pull off this plan of mine. But perhaps when I live in Hawaii I won't care what time of the morning I have to get up. Because I… live in… Hawaii. ALOHA!
Last night was another David Shelby ATM party. This one was a rager. I'm surprised that half of the participants are even alive today, much less at work. A bottle of expensive tequila was given to Tofu Todd as a parting gift and it was summarily drained within half an hour. I was not "crapulous" last night, but so many were that I feel it's necessary to use the word because it's just so fitting. I particularly enjoy the "gross intemperance" part because that's the whole crux of the ATM (Anti-Temperance Monday). But drinking six tequila shots after work on Monday when you've had no dinner and must attend work the next day is probably a pretty crapulous thing to do.
1. Suffering the effects of, or derived from, or suggestive of gross intemperance, especially in drinking; as, a crapulous stomach.
2. Marked by gross intemperance, especially in drinking; as, a crapulous old reprobate
I've left the sunshine, the white sandy beaches and the fruity drinks of Hawaii in exchange for the life I've, for some unknown reason, opted to build for myself in Washington, D.C. I contemplated staying in Hawaii. I've designed a plan which would allow me to live in Hawaii year-round and generate enough cash to basically buy my own island if I chose to do so. My only hang-up with the plan is that it would require me to work early morning hours, and we all know that I'm incapable of doing that. Judging by the fact that I've missed the bus two mornings in a row, I don't see being able to pull off this plan of mine. But perhaps when I live in Hawaii I won't care what time of the morning I have to get up. Because I… live in… Hawaii. ALOHA!
Last night was another David Shelby ATM party. This one was a rager. I'm surprised that half of the participants are even alive today, much less at work. A bottle of expensive tequila was given to Tofu Todd as a parting gift and it was summarily drained within half an hour. I was not "crapulous" last night, but so many were that I feel it's necessary to use the word because it's just so fitting. I particularly enjoy the "gross intemperance" part because that's the whole crux of the ATM (Anti-Temperance Monday). But drinking six tequila shots after work on Monday when you've had no dinner and must attend work the next day is probably a pretty crapulous thing to do.
Thursday, April 27, 2006
Hawaii: The runon sentence
Consider this notice of the fact that I will not be around to update the blog beginning Saturday morning and continuing through the following Sunday due to the fact that I will be vacationing in the sun on the white sandy beaches of Hawaii for an entire week, completely and utterly devoid of a schedule or any other form of mundane and useless work and I won't feel bad about it at all, not even a little bit, not even when I think of you back here working at your desk hour after hour, bored out of your mind, wishing you could be on the white sandy beaches of Hawaii when instead you have ample time to update your own blog and probably no remaining vacation days because you already wasted them on useless "pretend sick days" and therefore can't leave your little comfortable desk chair for approximately nine more months while you earn what few days you can in order to take just half a week's vacation, which you'll probably spend doing something like moving to a new apartment, which might as well be work anyway, and I probably won't bring you back anything from Hawaii either because I'm too poor now that I took a week off and paid for the airfare and the hotel, so don't expect any big jars of macadamia nuts or Kona Coffee because if I give you anything al all it'll probably be a really big picture of me vacationing in the sun on the white sandy beaches of Hawaii without you.
Aloha!
Aloha!
Sunday, April 23, 2006
Word of the Day: Agog
agog \uh-GOG\, adjective:
Full of excitement or interest; in eager desire; eager, keen.
I am so excited! Tonight the coolest thing happened. I was at church with Cassie and just before the service was done, out comes Mercy Me, one of my favorite Christian bands. Now for those of you who know me, you are well aware that I listen to more Christian music than secular and though I can tell you all about Jack Johnson and O.A.R., I can, and probably will, recite all the words to every Switchfoot song, and I can tell you the names of all the tracks to every Jars of Clay song ever written (on seven albums, which I can also name and date). Mercy Me has been a favorite of mine for five years when I first hear their song I Can Only Imagine. So when they show up unannounced at church, YOU can only imagine my excitement.
Apparently they were just "stopping by" on their way to the airport for a flight to New York. They are promoting their new album Coming Up to Breathe, which isn't out in stores until Tuesday. But lucky us, they were selling copies for $5!!! And not only that, but after we picked up our $5 CDs the entire band was standing RIGHT THERE with pens and they all signed our CDs. Now I not only have the CD before it's even in stores for 1/3 of the price, it's just become priceless. Mercy Me can stopping looking -- they've just met their biggest fan.
Full of excitement or interest; in eager desire; eager, keen.
I am so excited! Tonight the coolest thing happened. I was at church with Cassie and just before the service was done, out comes Mercy Me, one of my favorite Christian bands. Now for those of you who know me, you are well aware that I listen to more Christian music than secular and though I can tell you all about Jack Johnson and O.A.R., I can, and probably will, recite all the words to every Switchfoot song, and I can tell you the names of all the tracks to every Jars of Clay song ever written (on seven albums, which I can also name and date). Mercy Me has been a favorite of mine for five years when I first hear their song I Can Only Imagine. So when they show up unannounced at church, YOU can only imagine my excitement.
Apparently they were just "stopping by" on their way to the airport for a flight to New York. They are promoting their new album Coming Up to Breathe, which isn't out in stores until Tuesday. But lucky us, they were selling copies for $5!!! And not only that, but after we picked up our $5 CDs the entire band was standing RIGHT THERE with pens and they all signed our CDs. Now I not only have the CD before it's even in stores for 1/3 of the price, it's just become priceless. Mercy Me can stopping looking -- they've just met their biggest fan.
Saturday, April 22, 2006
Word of the Day: Specious
specious \SPEE-shuhs\, adjective:
1. Apparently right; superficially fair, just, or correct, but not so in reality; as, "specious reasoning; a specious argument."
This word seems to sum up what occured here on Friday night. It was right and fair and just and correct that Tofu Todd or I were to win the game of Seafarers. However, the victory was apparently specious in that it wasn't attained in reality.
In reality, Timoni won the game. And not only did she win, she slaughtered us. Todd had 4 points. I had 5. We are clearly not as good at alliances as we once assumed. In the future we need to create a whole new game plan or else we will have to do some serious cheating. That win was ours! It was. Just not in reality.
1. Apparently right; superficially fair, just, or correct, but not so in reality; as, "specious reasoning; a specious argument."
This word seems to sum up what occured here on Friday night. It was right and fair and just and correct that Tofu Todd or I were to win the game of Seafarers. However, the victory was apparently specious in that it wasn't attained in reality.
In reality, Timoni won the game. And not only did she win, she slaughtered us. Todd had 4 points. I had 5. We are clearly not as good at alliances as we once assumed. In the future we need to create a whole new game plan or else we will have to do some serious cheating. That win was ours! It was. Just not in reality.
Friday, April 21, 2006
Word of the Day: Domination
dom·i·na·tion ( P ) Pronunciation Key (dm-nshn)
n.
Control or power over another or others.
The exercise of such control or power.
You know I can't think of anything to blog about when I start rambling on about world domination based on a board game, but tonight is going to be a feat of total world domination never seen or heard of before. I dare say Tofu Todd and I are on track for taking over the entire civilized world in what can only be classified as a masterpiece of strategy and allure. Settlers of Catan (or more specifically Seafarers of Catan), is one of my favorite games of all times and some of my favorite people of all times will be coming over this evening to embark in a friendly game or two.
I'll report back on the outcome, but you can bet it will begin with the glorious victory of either Tofu Todd or the Empress (me).
n.
Control or power over another or others.
The exercise of such control or power.
You know I can't think of anything to blog about when I start rambling on about world domination based on a board game, but tonight is going to be a feat of total world domination never seen or heard of before. I dare say Tofu Todd and I are on track for taking over the entire civilized world in what can only be classified as a masterpiece of strategy and allure. Settlers of Catan (or more specifically Seafarers of Catan), is one of my favorite games of all times and some of my favorite people of all times will be coming over this evening to embark in a friendly game or two.
I'll report back on the outcome, but you can bet it will begin with the glorious victory of either Tofu Todd or the Empress (me).
Thursday, April 20, 2006
Word of the Day: Allergies
al·ler·gy ( P ) Pronunciation Key (lr-j)
n. pl. al·ler·gies
An abnormally high sensitivity to certain substances, such as pollens, foods, or microorganisms. Common indications of allergy may include sneezing, itching, and skin rashes.
The allergy season is especially bad this season, if you couldn't tell by the itching eyes, sneezing and basic irritation of everyone around you. You're well aware if you've spent any time with me in the past few weeks. According to ABC News:
Here is a cool interactive map of the U.S. with highlighted pollen counts. Good luck out there.
n. pl. al·ler·gies
An abnormally high sensitivity to certain substances, such as pollens, foods, or microorganisms. Common indications of allergy may include sneezing, itching, and skin rashes.
The allergy season is especially bad this season, if you couldn't tell by the itching eyes, sneezing and basic irritation of everyone around you. You're well aware if you've spent any time with me in the past few weeks. According to ABC News:
April is the cruelest month — just ask any seasonal allergy sufferer. But this April is especially pitiless, since a mild, wet winter in many parts of the country caused an early start to what has become a record-setting allergy season.They listed ten of the worst cities and not surprisingly Washington, D.C. is right up there. I personally suffer from tree pollens (which are causing the misery this week) but even worse for me is the grass pollen, and those don't come out until June.
Here is a cool interactive map of the U.S. with highlighted pollen counts. Good luck out there.
Tuesday, April 18, 2006
Word of the Day: Consistent
con·sis·tent ( P ) Pronunciation Key (kn-sstnt)
adj.
Reliable; steady: demonstrated a consistent ability to impress the critics.
This is my 150th post. I feel a great sense of accomplishment. The best part about this blog is that I can go back into the catalog of my life and pull out little snippets of things that happened for reference. It's practically indispensible.
This weekend was Easter. I spent it with my dear friend Kim in Elizabeth, Pennsylvania. We cooked and ate, and ate and cooked and had the best time two friends could have. I made it to Season 2, Episode 17 of Lost, so I'm almost caught up. And that crazy ending with Hurley is just TOO much. And on the way back I got to test out the racing ability of my car, which is way too fun. I don't think I dropped below 80 the whole way. I love how no one drives in the right lane when it opens up to three lanes (for trucks). I'd get over there in the right lane and buzz by all kinds of slowpokes. Is "slowpoke" a bad word?
For anyone who cares, it is currently 57 degrees OUTSIDE and 79 degrees (and rapidly rising) INSIDE. Oh how I love my office.
Yesterday was a really bad bus day for me. Nevermind the fact that I was evaded by three buses and ended up 20 minutes late for work. On my way home I was reading a magazine and was, I can only imagine, totally engrossed in it, because when I finally looked up we were WAY past my stop. Like four stops and a mile past my stop. I had to walk all the way home. Here's to hoping today is better.
adj.
Reliable; steady: demonstrated a consistent ability to impress the critics.
This is my 150th post. I feel a great sense of accomplishment. The best part about this blog is that I can go back into the catalog of my life and pull out little snippets of things that happened for reference. It's practically indispensible.
This weekend was Easter. I spent it with my dear friend Kim in Elizabeth, Pennsylvania. We cooked and ate, and ate and cooked and had the best time two friends could have. I made it to Season 2, Episode 17 of Lost, so I'm almost caught up. And that crazy ending with Hurley is just TOO much. And on the way back I got to test out the racing ability of my car, which is way too fun. I don't think I dropped below 80 the whole way. I love how no one drives in the right lane when it opens up to three lanes (for trucks). I'd get over there in the right lane and buzz by all kinds of slowpokes. Is "slowpoke" a bad word?
For anyone who cares, it is currently 57 degrees OUTSIDE and 79 degrees (and rapidly rising) INSIDE. Oh how I love my office.
Yesterday was a really bad bus day for me. Nevermind the fact that I was evaded by three buses and ended up 20 minutes late for work. On my way home I was reading a magazine and was, I can only imagine, totally engrossed in it, because when I finally looked up we were WAY past my stop. Like four stops and a mile past my stop. I had to walk all the way home. Here's to hoping today is better.
Thursday, April 13, 2006
Word of the Day: Incorrigible
in·cor·ri·gi·ble ( P ) Pronunciation Key (n-kôr-j-bl, -kr-)
adj.
Incapable of being corrected or reformed: an incorrigible criminal.
Firmly rooted; ineradicable: incorrigible faults.
Difficult or impossible to control or manage: an incorrigible, spoiled child.
Some of you may remember a little episode I had a while back with the office temperature lady. (What would be the title of a person who controls the temperature?) Back in December the office was so cold, we had to wear three coats, a scarf and gloves just to stay warm. It was anywhere between 67 and 70 degrees on a daily basis, which often led to us complaining incessantly about frostbite and hypothermia. Finally, one day I broke down and called the temperature lady.
Flash forward to April 13, 2006... I enter the building. I ride the elevator, walk down the hall... it's all quite pleasant. Until I set foot into the office in which I work and around me settles air so stiflingly warm that I almost can't breathe and my skin clams up instantly from unbelieveable humidity. I can only imagine they are trying to prove to us they have absolutely no control over the temperature of this building. It has been an incorrigible 80 degrees everyday for two weeks. Oh yeah, sure, occasionally the temperature dips to a low of 77 - but that is a rare occurance.
By the second week of this weather, my florescent light coworker was threatening to come to work in shorts and my boss had mentioned something about a speedo. I would have to take desperate measures if I was going to save my sanity. So what did I do? I called the temperature lady. She arrived with her laser temperature gun and pointed it around at various surfaces testing the temperature, which she found to be between 78-80 degrees throughout. "It's really hot in here," I said with a resigned sigh. "It's well within the acceptable range according to the GSA," she says. "We don't have to do anything about it."
I looked up this supposed "range" and the only thing I found suggested that during occupancy the building should be kept between 70 and 78 degrees. 80 is, as I see it, well WITH OUT the acceptable range. Furthermore "Overexposure to heat can lead to a decrease in physical and mental performance, resulting in an increased potential for errors and accidents," says the Department of Sustainability and Environment. I believe it is in their best interest to turn the heat down already and quit trying to run us out of here by threatening to melt our brain cells.
And that lady should really learn to calm herself down. I'm not asking her to anihilate the universe. I'm asking her to turn the temperature down a degree or two. It's really not that big a deal. It's a dial. You turn it. It goes down.
adj.
Incapable of being corrected or reformed: an incorrigible criminal.
Firmly rooted; ineradicable: incorrigible faults.
Difficult or impossible to control or manage: an incorrigible, spoiled child.
Some of you may remember a little episode I had a while back with the office temperature lady. (What would be the title of a person who controls the temperature?) Back in December the office was so cold, we had to wear three coats, a scarf and gloves just to stay warm. It was anywhere between 67 and 70 degrees on a daily basis, which often led to us complaining incessantly about frostbite and hypothermia. Finally, one day I broke down and called the temperature lady.
Flash forward to April 13, 2006... I enter the building. I ride the elevator, walk down the hall... it's all quite pleasant. Until I set foot into the office in which I work and around me settles air so stiflingly warm that I almost can't breathe and my skin clams up instantly from unbelieveable humidity. I can only imagine they are trying to prove to us they have absolutely no control over the temperature of this building. It has been an incorrigible 80 degrees everyday for two weeks. Oh yeah, sure, occasionally the temperature dips to a low of 77 - but that is a rare occurance.
By the second week of this weather, my florescent light coworker was threatening to come to work in shorts and my boss had mentioned something about a speedo. I would have to take desperate measures if I was going to save my sanity. So what did I do? I called the temperature lady. She arrived with her laser temperature gun and pointed it around at various surfaces testing the temperature, which she found to be between 78-80 degrees throughout. "It's really hot in here," I said with a resigned sigh. "It's well within the acceptable range according to the GSA," she says. "We don't have to do anything about it."
I looked up this supposed "range" and the only thing I found suggested that during occupancy the building should be kept between 70 and 78 degrees. 80 is, as I see it, well WITH OUT the acceptable range. Furthermore "Overexposure to heat can lead to a decrease in physical and mental performance, resulting in an increased potential for errors and accidents," says the Department of Sustainability and Environment. I believe it is in their best interest to turn the heat down already and quit trying to run us out of here by threatening to melt our brain cells.
And that lady should really learn to calm herself down. I'm not asking her to anihilate the universe. I'm asking her to turn the temperature down a degree or two. It's really not that big a deal. It's a dial. You turn it. It goes down.
Monday, April 10, 2006
Word of the Day: Squalor
squal·or ( P ) Pronunciation Key
A filthy and wretched condition or quality.
I'm living in squalor.
The office refrigerator problem just became so much worse. On friday we were instructed to clean all perishable food out of the refrigerator because the power would be out all weekend. Fine. Some benevolent soul from the other office that uses or fridge cleaned it out and put all the old food in plastic bags and placed them near the door of the kitchen. It's just that he forgot one small detail. It was after 2pm, so the cleaning crew had already come for the day. And there is no cleaning crew over the weekend.
(Fast forward to Monday morning)
What is that smell? Ew. Is that the garbage from the refrigerator? All sitting there in neat little plastic bags, exactly where they were left on Friday? I wonder how many mice and cockroaches feasted on old leftovers over the weekend? You'd think an office full of people who were terrorized recently by a never-ending mouse problem would be a little more careful not to leave food laying out all weekend.
Anyone for some warm yogurt?
A filthy and wretched condition or quality.
I'm living in squalor.
The office refrigerator problem just became so much worse. On friday we were instructed to clean all perishable food out of the refrigerator because the power would be out all weekend. Fine. Some benevolent soul from the other office that uses or fridge cleaned it out and put all the old food in plastic bags and placed them near the door of the kitchen. It's just that he forgot one small detail. It was after 2pm, so the cleaning crew had already come for the day. And there is no cleaning crew over the weekend.
(Fast forward to Monday morning)
What is that smell? Ew. Is that the garbage from the refrigerator? All sitting there in neat little plastic bags, exactly where they were left on Friday? I wonder how many mice and cockroaches feasted on old leftovers over the weekend? You'd think an office full of people who were terrorized recently by a never-ending mouse problem would be a little more careful not to leave food laying out all weekend.
Anyone for some warm yogurt?
Friday, April 07, 2006
Word of the Day: deus ex machina
deus ex machina \DAY-uhs-eks-MAH-kuh-nuh; -nah; -MAK-uh-nuh\, noun:
Any active agent who appears unexpectedly to solve an apparently insoluble difficulty.
I can now tell the world what 2am and 4am look like in full detail. I have spent the past six nights researching what occurs when most sane people are tucked away safely and snuggly in their beds. During these hours when the world is quiet, I am awake bringing order to the universe by providing the rest of you lazy people with the answers to what you've always wondered: What do people do in the middle of the night?
(For those of you who have asked out of sheer concern for my well-being, the chanting has stopped. I know this because I am awake all night.)
My reasoning for being awake all night is three-fold. 1.) I believe the chanting is over because I have finally officially been brain-washed into staying up all night. 2.) I'm sick, and sleeping is prohibited when sick. 3.) I am suffering from "overactive brain syndrome" which results in being unable to shut down activity until approximately 7:43 -- two minutes before my alarm clock goes off.
Here is what I have learned in my insomnia:
1. There is more traffic at 4am than at 2am.
2. Traffic lights do not run on an abbreviated schedule even after 2am when instead of 20 cars passing per second there is an average of 1 car passing per five minutes.
3. If you listen long and hard enough, you can almost hear other people talking before you realize it's all in your own crazy head.
4. Peanut butter tastes better after midnight.
5. The only thing on TV is monotonous infomercials about food dehydrators and annoying ads for get-rich-quick real estate programs.
6. No one likes it when you call them before the sun rises.
7. If you try to write a book during the night hours, you'll have to erase it all in the morning when you realize it's completely incomprehensible.
8. You still have to get up at 7:44, so WHY ARE YOU STILL AWAKE??
Any active agent who appears unexpectedly to solve an apparently insoluble difficulty.
I can now tell the world what 2am and 4am look like in full detail. I have spent the past six nights researching what occurs when most sane people are tucked away safely and snuggly in their beds. During these hours when the world is quiet, I am awake bringing order to the universe by providing the rest of you lazy people with the answers to what you've always wondered: What do people do in the middle of the night?
(For those of you who have asked out of sheer concern for my well-being, the chanting has stopped. I know this because I am awake all night.)
My reasoning for being awake all night is three-fold. 1.) I believe the chanting is over because I have finally officially been brain-washed into staying up all night. 2.) I'm sick, and sleeping is prohibited when sick. 3.) I am suffering from "overactive brain syndrome" which results in being unable to shut down activity until approximately 7:43 -- two minutes before my alarm clock goes off.
Here is what I have learned in my insomnia:
1. There is more traffic at 4am than at 2am.
2. Traffic lights do not run on an abbreviated schedule even after 2am when instead of 20 cars passing per second there is an average of 1 car passing per five minutes.
3. If you listen long and hard enough, you can almost hear other people talking before you realize it's all in your own crazy head.
4. Peanut butter tastes better after midnight.
5. The only thing on TV is monotonous infomercials about food dehydrators and annoying ads for get-rich-quick real estate programs.
6. No one likes it when you call them before the sun rises.
7. If you try to write a book during the night hours, you'll have to erase it all in the morning when you realize it's completely incomprehensible.
8. You still have to get up at 7:44, so WHY ARE YOU STILL AWAKE??
Tuesday, April 04, 2006
The Great Scavenger Hunt
Last Saturday we ran around DC like the crazy people we are on a huge photo scavenger hunt. The point was to get more points than the other teams based on which photos you decide to take. We only had a disposable camera with 27 shots so it required a lot of strategic planning to get the most possible points. In the end, my team won by 15 points, despite a 30 pt deduction for being 22 minutes late returning. Here are a few of my favorite photos from the event.
Just tell me this photo doesn't look fake. Even the sky looks fake (35 pts).
Here's the team doing kartwheels with the Capitol in the background (25 pts):
And here's the team in a porta-potty (35 pts)
Just tell me this photo doesn't look fake. Even the sky looks fake (35 pts).
Here's the team doing kartwheels with the Capitol in the background (25 pts):
And here's the team in a porta-potty (35 pts)
Word of the Day: Five Guys
Don't worry, I'm not going to actually write a whole blog entry about five guys... oh but I am going to write about FIVE GUYS -- as in the best burger place in the world, "...a little joint with all the charm of an RFK Stadium bathroom," according to a wash post writer. Here's a link to the story in the post...and a few excerpts:
Four years ago, before franchising, Five Guys was just a little family burger operation with five locations and a steady, if cultish following, in Northern Virginia. Today the business is by some estimates heading toward $1 billion in value. Five Guys has 87 locations. Most are in the Washington region, but a hundred more will open along the East Coast this year, and another thousand are being phased in. Each store, the company says, pulls in about $1 million a year.An interesting question: Should the pickles go on top of the tomatoes or should the tomatoes go on top of the pickles?
Thus, you can't buy one Five Guys franchise. You have to buy at least five.I used to work at a "Five Guys" type of establishment when I was in high school. It was called Burger Hut and was considered "medium fast food". I'm not surprised that I love Five Guys so much since my days at Burger Hut forever endeared me to a really good hamburger. I love it that you can now find Five Guys everywhere instead of just in Bailey's Crossroads and Springfield. I've decided officially that I can't move back to the West coast until Five Guys has become firmly established there. All you people who think In and Out Burger rivals Five Guys are wrong. It's not even close.
Sunday, April 02, 2006
Cherry blossoms
One of the best things about Timoni, amongst hundreds of things, is that she always has a camera with her and is prepared to take photos of all the excursions we go on, including our trip to the cherry blossoms on Friday. So here is a lovely photos compliments of Timoni.
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