Thursday, October 28, 2010
The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly
Time to take stock.
Good: I have rediscovered the Skittles-flavored lip balms in my supply drawer in my office, and they are delicious.
Bad: I weighed in at a lifetime high last week, meaning that real Skittles are off the table for some time to come.
Ugly: Sarah Jessica Parker.
Good: I am really enjoying The Complete Stories of Flannery O'Connor.
Bad: Flannery O'Connor has been dead for a while, so there is unlikely to be a sequel.
Ugly: Most of the characters in Flannery O'Connor, unless you're into unusual dental scenarios.
Good: I got a seat on the train this morning.
Bad: The seat was somewhat damp, and I'm not entirely sure it was water.
Ugly: Danny DeVito.
Good: Election season is almost over and soon we will never have to hear from Christine O'Donnell again.
Bad: I said the same thing about Sarah Palin in 2008.
Ugly: Mike Castle.
This could go on all night...
Time to take stock.
Good: I have rediscovered the Skittles-flavored lip balms in my supply drawer in my office, and they are delicious.
Bad: I weighed in at a lifetime high last week, meaning that real Skittles are off the table for some time to come.
Ugly: Sarah Jessica Parker.
Good: I am really enjoying The Complete Stories of Flannery O'Connor.
Bad: Flannery O'Connor has been dead for a while, so there is unlikely to be a sequel.
Ugly: Most of the characters in Flannery O'Connor, unless you're into unusual dental scenarios.
Good: I got a seat on the train this morning.
Bad: The seat was somewhat damp, and I'm not entirely sure it was water.
Ugly: Danny DeVito.
Good: Election season is almost over and soon we will never have to hear from Christine O'Donnell again.
Bad: I said the same thing about Sarah Palin in 2008.
Ugly: Mike Castle.
This could go on all night...
Tuesday, October 26, 2010
Body by Jay
So I've been going to this gym in my office building on weekdays. It's nice in some ways, because it's sort of hard to think of excuses not to go when it's only five minutes from your desk and it's generally not too crowded, since only people from my building can go there and my office is not technically speaking the most athletic place in America. It's also sort of terrible at times, primarily because I don't really need to see my coworkers wangs, but also because the locker room is terribly, terribly small, causing strangers to often feel the need to engage me in unnecessary conversation. Today, for instance, a Stage III Smalltalker latched on to me the minute I got in the door. Well, not the exact minute I got in there -- at that point he was still singing "Still The One" loudly to himself. But within thirty seconds, he had shifted over to asking me why his shirt was wet (answer: I did not know) and telling me all about his workout (topic sentence: it was freaking awesome). Then he settled into a strict routine of soliciting my views on whatever happened to be shown on ESPN at any given moment. I have frankly never put my clothes on so quickly in my life, and that includes the time I woke up from that one night stand with Celine Dion.
So I've been going to this gym in my office building on weekdays. It's nice in some ways, because it's sort of hard to think of excuses not to go when it's only five minutes from your desk and it's generally not too crowded, since only people from my building can go there and my office is not technically speaking the most athletic place in America. It's also sort of terrible at times, primarily because I don't really need to see my coworkers wangs, but also because the locker room is terribly, terribly small, causing strangers to often feel the need to engage me in unnecessary conversation. Today, for instance, a Stage III Smalltalker latched on to me the minute I got in the door. Well, not the exact minute I got in there -- at that point he was still singing "Still The One" loudly to himself. But within thirty seconds, he had shifted over to asking me why his shirt was wet (answer: I did not know) and telling me all about his workout (topic sentence: it was freaking awesome). Then he settled into a strict routine of soliciting my views on whatever happened to be shown on ESPN at any given moment. I have frankly never put my clothes on so quickly in my life, and that includes the time I woke up from that one night stand with Celine Dion.
Sunday, October 24, 2010
Possibly the Last Set of Wedding Shots You Will Ever See (This Year)
So I finally uploaded the pictures from last weekend. Get ready for some pine trees, people.
The ceremony and reception were at this amazing house on a cliff. There was also a guest house that came equipped with a VHS copy of Grease 2. Because that's the best way to make people feel welcome.
There were all sorts of precarious steps carved into the cliffs so that you could get down to the water. Getting back up was another matter entirely.
The old man and the sea. The middle-aged man and the lake just doesn't sound as good.
The bride definitely knows how to smile with her eyes. I was too busy trying to pull my jacket back from the weird place it kept trying to put itself. Tyra would not be pleased with me.
I just like this picture because I look really concerned for no reason at all. Perhaps I'm worried that I'll be attacked by a wolf or something. We did see one. It didn't pose much of a threat, though, as it had already been run over by a car.
So I finally uploaded the pictures from last weekend. Get ready for some pine trees, people.
The ceremony and reception were at this amazing house on a cliff. There was also a guest house that came equipped with a VHS copy of Grease 2. Because that's the best way to make people feel welcome.
There were all sorts of precarious steps carved into the cliffs so that you could get down to the water. Getting back up was another matter entirely.
The old man and the sea. The middle-aged man and the lake just doesn't sound as good.
The bride definitely knows how to smile with her eyes. I was too busy trying to pull my jacket back from the weird place it kept trying to put itself. Tyra would not be pleased with me.
I just like this picture because I look really concerned for no reason at all. Perhaps I'm worried that I'll be attacked by a wolf or something. We did see one. It didn't pose much of a threat, though, as it had already been run over by a car.Wednesday, October 20, 2010
Unreal
So I have to admit that I'm dipping into the new edition of the Program Formerly Known as the Real World/Road Rules Challenge a little bit. It's sort of strange because for the most part I have no idea who any of these people are, but the appeal of idiots getting drunk and screaming at each other is pretty much eternal. (See: The Jersey Shore.) I've never understood the rules of these things at all, and this one is no exception. I'm pretty sure that each week the teams compete to see who can lose the most weight, before being judged on their singing abilities by Padma Lakshmi and texting their votes for who got the best makeover. Of course the real point is alcohol and blurred-out nudity, which if you think about it is the natural way to celebrate the rich history and culture of Prague.
I do sort of long for the days of Coral announcing that "she doesn't wrestle; she beats bitches up," I have to be honest. Hell, I'd even take Tanya freaking out about her kidneys while ignoring the larger problem of her ungainly breast implants. Ah, the Real World that once was, how I miss thee.
So I have to admit that I'm dipping into the new edition of the Program Formerly Known as the Real World/Road Rules Challenge a little bit. It's sort of strange because for the most part I have no idea who any of these people are, but the appeal of idiots getting drunk and screaming at each other is pretty much eternal. (See: The Jersey Shore.) I've never understood the rules of these things at all, and this one is no exception. I'm pretty sure that each week the teams compete to see who can lose the most weight, before being judged on their singing abilities by Padma Lakshmi and texting their votes for who got the best makeover. Of course the real point is alcohol and blurred-out nudity, which if you think about it is the natural way to celebrate the rich history and culture of Prague.
I do sort of long for the days of Coral announcing that "she doesn't wrestle; she beats bitches up," I have to be honest. Hell, I'd even take Tanya freaking out about her kidneys while ignoring the larger problem of her ungainly breast implants. Ah, the Real World that once was, how I miss thee.
Monday, October 18, 2010
The Friendly Skies
Every time I start out on a trip, I'm in an upbeat mood, genuinely excited just to have a little bit of time to read and listen to music, even if it is while wedged between a compulsive talker and a sociopath in business class. Every time I return from a trip, though, I'm sort of a monster, irritated by everyone and everything around me. For instance, yesterday I simply could not take the flight attendant who delayed our departure for about fifteen minutes while she rearranged bags even though everyone already had a place for their stuff. She was just so pleased with herself as she announced that it was "only her third day on the job" and tried to force some poor serviceman to stow his giant backpack under his seat that I sort of wanted to punch her. Then my attentions quickly shifted to her coworker, who decided to actively grill me about the various tasks required of me as an exit row resident. (Apparently the correct answer to "What's the first thing you're going to do if there's an accident?" wasn't "Cry.") Then I found myself wanting to murder the guy in the seat next to me, who felt it necessary to repeatedly attempt to engage me in conversation about the SkyMall catalogue. (I actually wasn't too happy with the creators of SkyMall themselves, either.) Then it was the mother two rows in front of me, who kept delivering dramatic monologues to no one in particular about how hard it is to take a two-year-old on a flight. I resisted the urge to remind her that there's no actual law requiring two-year-olds to be taken above 10,000 feet every few months. Finally, it was pretty much everyone in the entire world when, upon landing, we were informed that we'd have to sit on the runway for a while, since we didn't have a gate. I'm making it my personal goal to stay off of planes for pretty much the rest of 2010.
Every time I start out on a trip, I'm in an upbeat mood, genuinely excited just to have a little bit of time to read and listen to music, even if it is while wedged between a compulsive talker and a sociopath in business class. Every time I return from a trip, though, I'm sort of a monster, irritated by everyone and everything around me. For instance, yesterday I simply could not take the flight attendant who delayed our departure for about fifteen minutes while she rearranged bags even though everyone already had a place for their stuff. She was just so pleased with herself as she announced that it was "only her third day on the job" and tried to force some poor serviceman to stow his giant backpack under his seat that I sort of wanted to punch her. Then my attentions quickly shifted to her coworker, who decided to actively grill me about the various tasks required of me as an exit row resident. (Apparently the correct answer to "What's the first thing you're going to do if there's an accident?" wasn't "Cry.") Then I found myself wanting to murder the guy in the seat next to me, who felt it necessary to repeatedly attempt to engage me in conversation about the SkyMall catalogue. (I actually wasn't too happy with the creators of SkyMall themselves, either.) Then it was the mother two rows in front of me, who kept delivering dramatic monologues to no one in particular about how hard it is to take a two-year-old on a flight. I resisted the urge to remind her that there's no actual law requiring two-year-olds to be taken above 10,000 feet every few months. Finally, it was pretty much everyone in the entire world when, upon landing, we were informed that we'd have to sit on the runway for a while, since we didn't have a gate. I'm making it my personal goal to stay off of planes for pretty much the rest of 2010.
Saturday, October 16, 2010
Minnesota Dreamin'
I am attending the sixth and last of this year's phalanx of weddings this weekend. It is in northern Minnesota, of course. As in "hour and a half flight to Minneapolis followed by four and a half hour drive" nothern Minnesota. As in "good luck getting cell phone service anywhere" northern Minnesota. (Oddly enough, the condos we're staying in have wireless internet, though.) As in "get severe windburn while going on your run" northern Minnesota. Yes, it is cold. No, I did not bring enough sweaters. But there are also a number of great things about this trip:
1. The condos we're staying in are amazing. Two bedrooms, four baths, full kitchen and living room AND they're right on Lake Superior.
2. I'm not in the wedding, so I get time to relax and enjoy the aforementioned condos.
3. It's beautiful up here, and not insanely cold when the sun is out. Lots of pine trees and cliffs and stuff.
4. Everyone is super friendly, because we're in Minnesota. I seriously thought the car rental girl might try to come along on the trip with me.
5. It's nice for people to get married and all.
If the dinner ends up being good tonight and the liquor flows, I'm even ready to forgive the wolf carcass I encountered while on my run this morning. I am nothing if not diplomatic.
I am attending the sixth and last of this year's phalanx of weddings this weekend. It is in northern Minnesota, of course. As in "hour and a half flight to Minneapolis followed by four and a half hour drive" nothern Minnesota. As in "good luck getting cell phone service anywhere" northern Minnesota. (Oddly enough, the condos we're staying in have wireless internet, though.) As in "get severe windburn while going on your run" northern Minnesota. Yes, it is cold. No, I did not bring enough sweaters. But there are also a number of great things about this trip:
1. The condos we're staying in are amazing. Two bedrooms, four baths, full kitchen and living room AND they're right on Lake Superior.
2. I'm not in the wedding, so I get time to relax and enjoy the aforementioned condos.
3. It's beautiful up here, and not insanely cold when the sun is out. Lots of pine trees and cliffs and stuff.
4. Everyone is super friendly, because we're in Minnesota. I seriously thought the car rental girl might try to come along on the trip with me.
5. It's nice for people to get married and all.
If the dinner ends up being good tonight and the liquor flows, I'm even ready to forgive the wolf carcass I encountered while on my run this morning. I am nothing if not diplomatic.
Wednesday, October 13, 2010
Rejected Marathon Signs 2010
"It's Certainly Conceivable That You Might Finish!"
"Come On, Katie Holmes Did This, And She Only Has One Normal Eye"
"Jesus is Very Much Interested in the Outcome of this Race"
"You're Drunk Right Now, Aren't You?"
"Try Not to Think About the Permanent Damage You're Probably Doing to Your Body"
"Run Like You Just Committed a Brutal Double Murder"
"I'm Cheating On You"
"I Mean Really, What's the Point?"
"Sorry About That Time I Called You an Asswipe"
"This is a Nice Moment For You, So I'm Going to Let You Have It"
"Want To Maybe Go See The New Katherine Heigl Flick After?"
"You're Killing Me Inside, You Know That"
"There's a Nice Jug of Warm Milk Waiting for You at the Finish!"
"Shouldn't You Ask Yourself Exactly What You're Running From?"
"It's Certainly Conceivable That You Might Finish!"
"Come On, Katie Holmes Did This, And She Only Has One Normal Eye"
"Jesus is Very Much Interested in the Outcome of this Race"
"You're Drunk Right Now, Aren't You?"
"Try Not to Think About the Permanent Damage You're Probably Doing to Your Body"
"Run Like You Just Committed a Brutal Double Murder"
"I'm Cheating On You"
"I Mean Really, What's the Point?"
"Sorry About That Time I Called You an Asswipe"
"This is a Nice Moment For You, So I'm Going to Let You Have It"
"Want To Maybe Go See The New Katherine Heigl Flick After?"
"You're Killing Me Inside, You Know That"
"There's a Nice Jug of Warm Milk Waiting for You at the Finish!"
"Shouldn't You Ask Yourself Exactly What You're Running From?"
Sunday, October 10, 2010
Home, Alone
This weekend I am very much enjoying the benefits of being stationary for a while. No weddings, no reunions, no holidays, no parties, not even any work. I have been at home. Doing not a whole lot. For example, today I shredded old credit card statements I had retained for unknown reasons. Also I watched three episodes of The Wizards of Waverly Place. That Selena Gomez is a natural-born comedian, I tell ya. And this despite her strangely immobile face.
I did run out this morning to try and catch Former Roommate Liz in the marathon, but the text messaging alerts must have been messed up, because by the time it told me to go out there, no one was to be seen except the funny little guy running the street sweeper. Somehow walking down the street with a giant posterboard sign seems much less cool when there is in fact no marathon going on any more.
Of course, I am not completely out of the woods yet. One more wedding next weekend. In northern Minnesota. But after that I can say the year of matrimony is officially at an end. And I only have one wedding that's even on my radar for next year. Although these things can happen fast. No more love, people, come on. Enough is enough.
This weekend I am very much enjoying the benefits of being stationary for a while. No weddings, no reunions, no holidays, no parties, not even any work. I have been at home. Doing not a whole lot. For example, today I shredded old credit card statements I had retained for unknown reasons. Also I watched three episodes of The Wizards of Waverly Place. That Selena Gomez is a natural-born comedian, I tell ya. And this despite her strangely immobile face.
I did run out this morning to try and catch Former Roommate Liz in the marathon, but the text messaging alerts must have been messed up, because by the time it told me to go out there, no one was to be seen except the funny little guy running the street sweeper. Somehow walking down the street with a giant posterboard sign seems much less cool when there is in fact no marathon going on any more.
Of course, I am not completely out of the woods yet. One more wedding next weekend. In northern Minnesota. But after that I can say the year of matrimony is officially at an end. And I only have one wedding that's even on my radar for next year. Although these things can happen fast. No more love, people, come on. Enough is enough.
Thursday, October 07, 2010
Key Learnings
Some things I forgot to mention about my big Decatur trip, which was clearly the most exciting thing that has ever happened to anyone:
1. The Fairfield Inn by Mariott was amazing. It was one of those hotels where the sink is in your living room and the closet is just a bar with hangers sitting out in the middle of the room. Also it had the hangers with the tiny hooks because hanger theft is apparently a huge issue. Oh, and an old-school tube TV. It was nice to see Tyra looking all fuzzy again.
2. Free continental breakfast buffets are a truly frightening display of humanity. It's so strange to see people clawing at each other for a shot at a free "fun size" pack of Frosted Flakes. If I threw a dollar on the floor, people probably wouldn't draw blood for it, but offer its retail value in cranberry juice, and it's on.
3. Cheddar's remains a pretty fantastic value. I had queso dip, a bowl of baked potato soup, and half a club sandwich for like $12. No word yet on whether the angioplasty is included.
4. Rest stops are terrifying, especially when packed with old people heading to an Illini game. And they don't take kindly to your explanation that you tend to "shy up" when forced to share cubic centimeters with others as you attempt to pee.
5. The drive to and from Champaign is the most terrible thing ever known to man. Construction everywhere. And nothing to look at for miles, except for the random adult bookstore in the abandoned Wendy's.
Some things I forgot to mention about my big Decatur trip, which was clearly the most exciting thing that has ever happened to anyone:
1. The Fairfield Inn by Mariott was amazing. It was one of those hotels where the sink is in your living room and the closet is just a bar with hangers sitting out in the middle of the room. Also it had the hangers with the tiny hooks because hanger theft is apparently a huge issue. Oh, and an old-school tube TV. It was nice to see Tyra looking all fuzzy again.
2. Free continental breakfast buffets are a truly frightening display of humanity. It's so strange to see people clawing at each other for a shot at a free "fun size" pack of Frosted Flakes. If I threw a dollar on the floor, people probably wouldn't draw blood for it, but offer its retail value in cranberry juice, and it's on.
3. Cheddar's remains a pretty fantastic value. I had queso dip, a bowl of baked potato soup, and half a club sandwich for like $12. No word yet on whether the angioplasty is included.
4. Rest stops are terrifying, especially when packed with old people heading to an Illini game. And they don't take kindly to your explanation that you tend to "shy up" when forced to share cubic centimeters with others as you attempt to pee.
5. The drive to and from Champaign is the most terrible thing ever known to man. Construction everywhere. And nothing to look at for miles, except for the random adult bookstore in the abandoned Wendy's.
Tuesday, October 05, 2010
Reunited
I had my ten-year college reunion this past weekend. It was a fairly surreal experience, if also quite pleasant for the most part. Although I'm pretty sure I haven't grown that much since college (at least not upwards), everything somehow looked smaller. I actually took the time on this trip to visit a bunch of the buildings I spent time in as an undergrad and it really brought back a lot of memories. The time I got in a surprisingly physical altercation with my viola teacher over my rendering of the three-octave D-major scale. The time I fell asleep in a cubicle at the library while reading Uncle Tom's Cabin and dreamed that I was best friends with Madonna. The time I became involved in an indoor water fight that resulted in the loss of a security deposit. The time I drank three bottles of Boone's Farm Wine Product and ended up throwing crackers at cars in the snow, declaring that "some guy's gonna see this, and it's going to blow his mind." The many times I ate chicken strips and white rice for lunch in the cafeteria. You get the idea, I think. I also drove around the Decatur area a bit, but that just made me sort of sad. They tore down the liquor store I used to frequent and the Old Navy done packed up and left the mall. How do people get drunk and try on performance fleece in that town these days? It really sort of boggles the mind.
I had my ten-year college reunion this past weekend. It was a fairly surreal experience, if also quite pleasant for the most part. Although I'm pretty sure I haven't grown that much since college (at least not upwards), everything somehow looked smaller. I actually took the time on this trip to visit a bunch of the buildings I spent time in as an undergrad and it really brought back a lot of memories. The time I got in a surprisingly physical altercation with my viola teacher over my rendering of the three-octave D-major scale. The time I fell asleep in a cubicle at the library while reading Uncle Tom's Cabin and dreamed that I was best friends with Madonna. The time I became involved in an indoor water fight that resulted in the loss of a security deposit. The time I drank three bottles of Boone's Farm Wine Product and ended up throwing crackers at cars in the snow, declaring that "some guy's gonna see this, and it's going to blow his mind." The many times I ate chicken strips and white rice for lunch in the cafeteria. You get the idea, I think. I also drove around the Decatur area a bit, but that just made me sort of sad. They tore down the liquor store I used to frequent and the Old Navy done packed up and left the mall. How do people get drunk and try on performance fleece in that town these days? It really sort of boggles the mind.
Friday, October 01, 2010
Thanks, A Lot
Yesterday I had court out in Lake County, which is always sort of a trial. Don't get me wrong, the courthouse out there is certainly less of a zoo than the Daley Center, and the people are about ten thousand times more pleasant (the girl running the x-ray actually smiled at me and the guy with the metal detector called me "sir" in a non sarcastic manner), but the drive is kind of a nightmare. It's not really all that far, but it seems to perpetually be rush hour, and the last twenty miles or so are on one of those divided highways that sort of lose their highway quality by putting stoplights every couple of miles or so. So it ended up being like a five-hour trip there and back.
But the capper to my incredible day had to be when I pulled into the exit lane of the parking garage by my office and found that I didn't have the parking card (which I had just paid in the lobby) anywhere on me. I checked every pocket I had. I checked every pocket in my bag. I checked every compartment in the car. I got out of the car, rolled the seats all the way forward and back and checked under them. I checked the trunk. It was nowhere to be found.
It was at this point that the sassy garage attendant became involved. I showed her my receipt from ten minutes before I met her (because yes, of course I wouldn't lose the receipt, just the actual piece of paper I needed to get the fuck out of that garage), but apparently that wasn't enough to prove to her that I wasn't some bizarre garage con man. She insisted that she would go down to the lobby and check to see if I left the parking car there, and then disappeared for about six years. She was, of course, wholly unsuccessful.
At this point, I decided to abandon my car and walk back up through the garage to see if I'd dropped the card somewhere, rather than live the rest of my life in that garage. And sure enough, there it was, on the ground right behind my spot. As I finally drove out of the garage, the parking attendant raised her arms in triumph, as though she had actually done something. She also called me "sweetheart." I'm not totally sure, but I think we might be engaged.
Yesterday I had court out in Lake County, which is always sort of a trial. Don't get me wrong, the courthouse out there is certainly less of a zoo than the Daley Center, and the people are about ten thousand times more pleasant (the girl running the x-ray actually smiled at me and the guy with the metal detector called me "sir" in a non sarcastic manner), but the drive is kind of a nightmare. It's not really all that far, but it seems to perpetually be rush hour, and the last twenty miles or so are on one of those divided highways that sort of lose their highway quality by putting stoplights every couple of miles or so. So it ended up being like a five-hour trip there and back.
But the capper to my incredible day had to be when I pulled into the exit lane of the parking garage by my office and found that I didn't have the parking card (which I had just paid in the lobby) anywhere on me. I checked every pocket I had. I checked every pocket in my bag. I checked every compartment in the car. I got out of the car, rolled the seats all the way forward and back and checked under them. I checked the trunk. It was nowhere to be found.
It was at this point that the sassy garage attendant became involved. I showed her my receipt from ten minutes before I met her (because yes, of course I wouldn't lose the receipt, just the actual piece of paper I needed to get the fuck out of that garage), but apparently that wasn't enough to prove to her that I wasn't some bizarre garage con man. She insisted that she would go down to the lobby and check to see if I left the parking car there, and then disappeared for about six years. She was, of course, wholly unsuccessful.
At this point, I decided to abandon my car and walk back up through the garage to see if I'd dropped the card somewhere, rather than live the rest of my life in that garage. And sure enough, there it was, on the ground right behind my spot. As I finally drove out of the garage, the parking attendant raised her arms in triumph, as though she had actually done something. She also called me "sweetheart." I'm not totally sure, but I think we might be engaged.
