My Christmas Playlist

I love Christmas music. I love it so much that I've been listening to it since October. It comes in every variety -- pop, jazz, hip-hop, instrumental...There's something for everyone. For those of you who might want to add some new songs to your Christmas repertoire, here are some of my favorites:
(Links are provided for ones that could be found on amazon.com)

* All Alone on Christmas - Darlene Love

* Somewhere in my Memory - John Williams (from Home Alone)

*When the River Meets the Sea - John Denver (from Emmett Otter's Jugband Christmas)

*Percy the Puny Poinsettia - Elmo & Patsy (a childhood favorite)

*Grandma Got Run Over by a Reindeer - Elmo & Patsy (Should we open up her gifts or send them back?)

* 12 Days of Christmas - The Muppets

* Christmas Don't Be Late -- Alvin & The Chipmunks (I used to think it said, "We can hardly Santa wait" )

* O Holy Night - Josh Groban (That voice!)

* Snoopy's Christmas - The Royal Guardsmen

* Deck the Halls - Manheim Steamroller

* Happy Xmas - John Lennon

* Last Christmas - Jimmy Eat World

*The entire Winter Solstice V album

I'm sure I could list many more, but those are the ones that come to mind first. Enjoy.

Cubicle Decorations

My place of employ has an annual cubicle-decorating contest around the holidays, with prizes for first and second place. Last year, I did a cow-print background with tinsel around the top and a big cow head saying, "Moo-ry Christmas." I thought it was creative, but I didn't win anything. This year, I opted for a Family Guy theme, inspired by the stuffed Peter Griffin dressed up like an angel that I won at Kennywood over the summer. Since I already had the angel, I decided to go with a whole nativity scene. The cast of characters is as follows:

Lois --> Mary
Brian --> Joseph
Stewie --> Jesus (naturally)
Peter --> angel
Chris --> shepherd
Meg --> donkey
Quagmire --> Wise man #1
Cleveland --> Wise man #2
Joe --> Wise man #3

See picture below.


Guy and I made the stable out of a cardboard box, and I found nativity cut-outs online that I pasted Family Guy characters' heads onto. Amanda, who I share the cubicle with on the shift after mine, did the background.

It probably won't win anything, but at least I've enjoyed looking at it for the past two weeks.

Briefs

Funny observation of the day: A little boy cruising down the sidewalk at 5 mph in his yellow Power Wheels Corvette, followed by a Power Wheels white and pink Jeep (possibly the Barbie edition?) carrying two girls. No adults in sight.

Announcement: Guy and I are now the proud parents of a new baby Wii. And we didn't even have to wait in line for it!

She's Baaa-aaack

Came home the other day to a few messages on the answering machine. When I pressed "play," a familiar voice rang in my ears. It was Florence! I guess her ceiling didn't come down after all. In this message, she talks about how Brian should wash his windows and how she was wrong about the laundry (I guess she dialed the right number when she told the beginning of that story.) Look for audio clips coming soon.

Clean House

As I sit on the floor of my new master bedroom the first thought that comes to my mind is not "Ahh, the joy of vaulted ceilings," but rather, "Thank God Guy cleaned this carpet!" As you may have noticed, I haven't updated in about a month, but I have an excuse. -- "move-in ready" houses are never truly move-in ready. Since we closed on the 31st, life has been a mess of trying to come up with design schemes, shopping for necessities, shopping for items to contribute to design schemes, returning said items, packing, cleaning, telling Guy what to clean, and telling Guy that he missed a spot. There are many things I can say about buying a house, but I have one main theme to this post, and it goes out to home sellers more than home buyers. If you are moving out of a house that other humans soon intend to live in, clean it before you go! Even if you haven't vacuumed more than twice within the 7 years of living there, lift a finger and leave it in a nice condition for the new owners. I was cleaning the bathroom vanity the other night when I encountered (gag me) a drawer where the previous owner presumably kept his electric razor. You can only imagine my disgust at the sight of dozens of tiny hairs Grizzly Adams had left behind for me to clean. Now not only do I have to attempt to block out this image every time I eat a meal, but I am convinced the previous owners were slobs. And hey, I can be a slob myself at times, but it's one thing to live in your own filth and another to sell it to someone else for $120,500.

Homeowners' Fret

We signed our lives away yesterday in the form of a mortgage. Homeowning is exciting, but it also comes with a whole new set of worries. For instance, how cold will we have to keep our house in order to be able to afford the gas bill? How about, what if our furnace explodes? And who can forget, did I leave the garage door open? The last worry has been consuming my thoughts ever since we left there last night. We were there to pass out candy to Trick or Treaters, and I remember hitting the garage-door button when I left, but what if a little mouse ran under, triggered the sensor, and it went back up without me noticing? Now hobos and ragamuffins are probably making themselves at home in our 2 1/2 bedroom, 1 1/2 bath semi-house. I guess that's one way to meet the neighbors.

Classified Contradictions

I was browsing the Pennysaver today, when I came across a couple of ads that I considered humorous. Here they are:

"Temperpedic memory foam mattress. Still in original plastic, never used. 20 year manufacture warranty. (NASA). Very comfortable. Cost $1,200. Asking $395."

and the second...

"Saxophone, New. Used 1 month. Great for student or beginner. $400 or best offer."

I'll let you see if you can find the humor in them that I did.

A Few Updates

First of all, I came home yesterday to the wonderful sound of the carbon-monoxide detector beeping, as I knew it would. I called the office yet again and complained and was told that they ordered new ones in the mail and they'll replace ours next week. So, I guess if we die of carbon-monoxide poisoning in the meantime, at least we'll know whose fault it was.

Secondly, thanks to Emily's grandma, I received this lovely photo of the birthday cheesecake.

And finally, you may have noticed that you can't get to my blog from the link in my profile for some reason. I don't understand the problem, but I think it's Google's issue, so if you are a regular reader, just bookmark it, and you'll be able to access it from the bookmark just fine.

#1 Reason I'm Glad We Bought a House

Lindenbrooke maintenance could possibly be the biggest collection of idiots in charge of something that I have encountered thus far in life. Here is a detailed account of why I feel this way:

Day one: Carbon-monoxide detector provided by Lindenbrooke begins to beep. Guy and I check the manual and determine that the beeping means the unit has malfunctioned. We take it down and forget about it until...

Day fourteen (approximately): I call the maintenance office and leave a message detailing the problem. Even though their hours are 8:00-4:30, no one ever answers the phone, so you have to leave a message on a machine and hope they get it. This day happened to be a Friday.

Day seventeen: The following Monday, I stayed home from work for half a day with a migraine. At around 9:00, I was awakened by someone knocking on the door and calling, "Maintenance!" He let himself in, and I came out to greet him in my pajamas. I showed him where the detector was, went back in the bedroom, and shut the door.

Afternoon of day seventeen: I find a pink slip commonly left by maintenance after they have visited detailing the steps taken to remedy the problem. This maintenance man, who we will call Chet, decided to ignore what we had told him about looking in the manual and simply replace the battery in the unit.

Day eighteen: Carbon-monoxide detector begins to beep again. I call the maintenance department and leave another message, restating that the manual says the unit has malfunctioned.

Day nineteen: The weather gets cold, and we want to use the furnace without fear of death by carbon-monoxide poisoning. No sign of maintenance.

Day twenty: I call maintenance again and leave yet another message.

Day twenty-one: No pink slip on the door when I get home from work. I call the main office and explain the problem to the leasing consultant there. She says she will tell the head of maintenance about the problem.

Days twenty-two and twenty-three: It's the weekend, so far be it from a maintenance man to take five minutes to solve our problem. We take the risk of being poisoned and use the furnace.

Day twenty-four: Still alive and breathing, I return home from work to find a pink slip on the door. Hurray! Until I take a closer look. Chet has returned. His solution: "Replaced battery. Tested several times. Made sure 'silence' after testing." What the heck is wrong with this man??? I could not believe my eyes. The silence he heard from the detector is still in effect, but so help me if I hear that thing start to chirp again. Ridiculous!!

Infamous

I just saw a preview for the new movie "Infamous" about Truman Capote. One of the critics' reviews mentioned in the clip was "the best Sandra Bullock performance yet" or something along those lines. At first sight, that's all well and good. And I know there's not a lot of time to mentally process what you see on TV before being bombarded by the next ad's imagery, but after seeing the preview once every commercial break, I did pause to think about the critics' statement. What I thought sounded a lot like that noise Tim the Toolman Taylor used to make when he was confused -- "ooouhh?" Is saying this movie contains Sandra Bullock's best performance really that much of a selling point? We're not talking about Meryl Streep or some other multiple-award-winning actress. This is the best performance yet of the ugly cop turned Miss Congenialty, the lady from "the bus that couldn't slow down." Sure, I'll give her "Crash," but Sandra is much more well-known for box-office blunders like "Murder by Numbers" and "The Lakehouse" than anything praiseworthy. "Infamous" could be a good film, but if lauding Sandra's performance is the best the critics can say about it, then maybe seeing "The Departed" would be $8.50 better spent.

Don't Judge an Eatery by its Cover

We went to a place called "New York Buffet & Grill" tonight for my brother's 20th bday. It's a new establishment where the old Blockbuster by Festival Foods used to be. We knew nothing about the place other than its name, and boy does the name deceive! A sign on the sidewalk out front said "Italian, American, Chinese, Japanese," so I was expecting to walk into a Ponderosa-esque restaurant. But as soon as I set foot inside and saw two Asian ladies in kimono tops standing there, I knew something was amiss. We were seated, drink orders were taken, and we all went to peruse the cuisine. They weren't lying. They did have representatives from all of the ethnic food groups that were advertised, but what they didn't tell you is that Chinese represented 99% of the selections. Italian consisted of pizza and wedding soup. American was...jello, maybe? And then for Chinese and Japanese, there was sushi, a habachi grill, and all the typical variations on chicken that Chinese restaurants offer. I especially loved the handwritten labels above all of the food like, "stuff shrimp" and "hot muster." Oh, and my brother received perhaps the best attempt at an American birthday cake that can come out of a place like that -- cheesecake surrounded by thinly sliced cucumbers and topped with halved cherry tomatoes. A novel attempt, but it just slightly missed the mark. By that time, we knew this was in no way, shape or form a Ponderosa. We were at a Chinese buffet with an awfully misguided title. The food and the service were good, but I'll be interested to see if the New York Buffet and Grill can survive its naming blunder.

Etiquette, anyone?

I have this thing with thank you's. I feel that if you give someone something (letter in the mail, gift, etc.), they should say thank you (if they enjoyed it) or at least acknowledge that it was received. I don't do nice things for people so I can get gratitude, but it's just nice to know that well-intended gestures were appreciated, not lost in the mail, etc. I went to a wedding a few summers ago and never received a thank-you note for the gift. I still think of that as a major faux pas. And I know some people just don't have it programmed into them to acknowledge the receipt of gifts, even if they truly do appreciate it (my husband is one of them), but I can't help but feel a bit perturbed if I try to do something nice and the recipient acts like it never happened. However, the point of this post isn't to make you feel bad if I've sent you something and you never said anything about it. Really, what I want to say is that if you've ever given me a gift, act of kindness, etc. and felt like I didn't acknowledge it, tell me! I still worry about people not receiving thank-you's from our wedding, but we do think we sent them all out, so if you didn't get one, tell me! If there is another sensitive person out there who is bitter that I've not appreciated them, forgive me. And if you never thank me, I'll probably just forgive you and continue sending things because, let's face it -- I just love writing letters.

Where Are They Now?

There are a lot of t.v. shows and magazine articles dedicated to past celebrities and what they're doing now, but a commercial I saw today made me ask the same question regarding a trendy drink of the past. Remember Orbitz? The clear drinks with the colored gel balls in them? There was a time about ten years ago when all of a sudden, bottled drinks became super popular. You were cool if you carried around an Arizona Iced Tea bottle, or a Jones soda, even if you weren't drinking out of it. And of course you had to save the bottles and use them as bedroom decor. Orbitz attempted to catch on to that trend, but didn't quite hit the nail on the head. If you never heard of these mysterious drinks or just need a refresher course, here's a link:

Orbitz

Also, what ever happened to Dunkaroos? Are they still around? There is no other way to describe the graham cracker ones with vanilla frosting than by saying they were simply the bomb. I finally felt justified in my habit of buying containers of frosting and eating it with a spoon.

Now they've really crossed the line

Since the last post on the woes of school bus comaraderie, I experienced another strange phenomenon -- school bus comaraderie in the absence of said school bus. For those of you that don't know, Guy and I happen to live right down the road from the school bus "loading dock," as I like to call it. It's the place where buses are kept during non-school hours and where the drivers park their personal vehicles before hitting the road every day. Yesterday, on the way home from work, a silver pickup truck pulled out in front of me from the upper entrance of the loading dock parking lot. 100 feet down the road, he STOPS in front of the lower entrance and proceeds to allow two other cars, presumably his bus-driver buddies, to exit. Far be it from the guy to realize that if he would have just kept going at a normal speed, I was the only person behind him, and his friends would have been able to pull out with no more than a 30-second delay. Apparently school bus comaraderie runs too deep to be contained within the black-and-gold framework and impossible-to-open-straight, kick-out-in-case-of-emergency windows. It's not just a part of the job. It's a way of life.

Big Yellow Monsters

Driving by backpack-laden kids waiting at street corners, getting stuck in 15 mph school zones, hearing the echo of an announcer on a P.A. system when you drive by the high school football stadium on Friday night. Ahh, yes, the school year has begun. This is certainly the one time of year when I'm glad I steered clear of the profession my college degree was intended for. I'd much rather get stuck in school traffic than be in the classroom dealing with a new swarm of faces, attitudes, and forgotten homework excuses. But just because I'm not a teacher doesn't mean there's nothing for me to gripe about at the start of another school year. This time what gets me is what I like to call school bus comaraderie. You know what I'm talking about -- you're tailing a large, yellow bus, trying to get to work on time, and out of nowhere, it stops and lets two or three of its school bus friends pull out from a side street. Now you're not just stuck behind one view-obstructing nuisance that seems capable of going over 30 mph only when plowing over curbs, but four. They form a nice little train and chug on down the road. I know school buses are on a tight schedule and all, but does transporting America's future really make them above the code of driving etiquette? The way I see it, the future can wait. Just say no to school bus comaraderie (and while you're at it, you might as well say no to drugs, too.)

If you don't have something nice to say...

I saw a bumper sticker on a telephone pole today that said "If it will send you to HELL, it's not safe sex." It bothered me for numerous reasons. First of all, I just don't like the concept of attempting to make a profound statement through a sticker. Also, the sticker was on public property, which is probably against the law, thus making the sticker-onner a hypocrite. Most importantly, though, it's possible to be a Christian and exhibit your beliefs in a much more effective manner than anonymously harassing people who live a different lifestyle. I don't know of anyone, Christian and non-Christian alike, that would benefit from seeing that sticker. It can only draw out negative reactions and perpetuate the stigmas that already exist about Christianity. I seriously doubt anyone's life will be changed for the better after seeing it, let alone cause a conversion experience. I don't know the motives of the person that put it up there. Maybe it was a joke. If only I had a sticker that said "let he without sin throw the first stone." I'd stick it right under the first one and then we'd see who'd get the last laugh.

Secret Agent Man

I had a one-sided conversation with a Pittsburgh FBI agent today. See, two Fridays ago when I was at the mall for an eye appointment, I saw an Arab-looking man in the parking lot taking pictures of the building and the surrounding area. I watched him for a while and decided he was suspicious. Call me a racial profiler, but I just didn't like the looks of things. Not many people want souvenir pictures of the outside of Macy's. Feeling a bit unnerved, I came home and told a few people, but didn't really take much action. Now, two weeks later, I still had an unsettled feeling about it because, hey, maybe it's nothing...but if it's something, boy would I feel guilty for not speaking up. I started looking around on the FBI's website for what to do if you see something like that, and it told me that I should call my local FBI's terrorism office. Of course they would force me to make an actual phone call. A handy internet form would just be too easy. So I mustered up some guts and made the call. I expected an operator to tell me to dial one for terrorism tips or something, but all I got was a man answering "Pittsburgh FBI." I told him I wanted to report suspicious activity. I got transferred to another gruff-sounding man who took my information, asked if I got a license plate number (I didn't), and said thanks and goodbye. Afterwards, I felt kind of dumb because I'm sure they get lots of useless tips like that all the time, but I was just trying to do my part to fight the war on "terra." Maybe I wasted 30 seconds of an FBI agent's time, but at least now I've got a clear conscience.

Say it ain't so!

Not much to say other than my favorite member of N'Sync just came out of the closet!

Read more here

Project Runway, Season 3

Men watch it for the buxom blonde host, fashionistas tune in to eye up the latest trends, and I watch for the delightful mix of drama, zany characters, and sheer amazement that occurs when a person takes a bedsheet and turns it into a beautiful dress right before your eyes. Yes, I'm talking about Project Runway, which is currently in its third season, on Bravo. I caught on in the midst of last season, after we nixed our luxury cable and I could no longer indulge myself in the many reality shows that MTV has to offer. Though I am one to watch almost any type of reality show and enjoy it, I truly think this is quality programming. The third episode will air this Wednesday, and the cast will be whittled down to 12 remaining designers willing to do almost anything for the $100,000 prize. I can't quite tell yet how this season stacks up to one or two, but it's been satisfying so far. The first challenge involved using any type of found material from the designers' apartments to create some type of wearable piece. Despite Vincent's attempt at making a cool hat out of a basket, I was very impressed with the rest of the creations. Episode two was a dressmaking challenge, to create a garment that the USA contestant in the Miss Universe pageant would actually wear in the evening gown competition. Lucky for her, there is an owner of a pageant boutique on the cast. He ended up winning, and it truly was an original and very beauty-queenish gown.

There are so many types of designers and styles represented on the show that it appeals to even the least fashion-conscious individual. If you don't have Bravo, no need to fear. NBC will also be airing episodes of Project Runway on Mondays at 8:00. That gives you not one, but two chances a week to catch a glimpse of this entertaining hour of television (not to mention the 5-10 times a week that it will re-air on Bravo). Check it out. It won't disappoint.

Few and Far Between

My posts seem to be so long in coming now that I wonder if anyone continues to check if there has been an update. I can't quite pinpoint what it is that has made me feel less of a desire to write. There have been plenty of interesting things going on to comment upon, but I just haven't felt compelled. I think part of it has to do with it being summer. This is my first summer with a full-time job, and even though it's definitely worlds apart from a summer as a student, there's still something about this season that slows the pace of life. I feel less productive overall, and even though I couldn't wait for long days and warm temperatures back in March, summer has now almost hit its peak, and I'm getting the "I'm ready for fall" feeling. I'm looking forward to December weddings, Disney World in March, and maybe, just maybe, getting out of this apartment and into a humble little house.

Dreamweaver

Sometimes you have a dream in life that you hope will one day come true. Sometimes other people have that same dream. Sometimes you while away your days, not doing anything to get closer to having your dream come true. Sometimes that dream comes true for someone else who dreamed it. Sometimes you feel like your dream can't be your dream anymore because now that it's come true for someone else, it will never come true for you.

When in doubt, do a survey.

70 THINGS YOU PROBABLY DON'T KNOW ABOUT ME

1. DO YOU SNORE?
no, but I do talk in my sleep.
2. ARE YOU A LOVER OR A FIGHTER?
a bit of both
3. WHAT'S YOUR WORST FEAR?
dying...no, wait. dying and not going to heaven.
4. AS A KID, WERE YOU A LEGO MANIAC?
I never really liked building things.
5. WHAT DO YOU THINK OF "REALITY" TV?
can't live with it, can't live without it
6. DO YOU CHEW ON YOUR STRAWS?
no. i'd rather chew on something that has a taste to it.
7.WERE YOU A CUTE Baby?
yes, but it was all downhill from there.
8. IS THE SINGLE LIFE FOR YOU?
it better not be...
9. WHAT COLOR IS YOUR KEYBOARD?
grey and darker grey
10. DO YOU SING IN THE SHOWER?

yes, especially now that I have a shower radio

11. HAVE YOU EVER BUNGEE JUMPED?
no way
12. HAVE ANY "SECRET" TALENTS?
i don't think i have any "unsecret" talents
13. WHAT'S YOUR IDEAL VACATION SPOT?
a beach with really clean sand and clear blue water
14. Do you think Jay Lenno is funny?
yes, but I prefer Letterman
15. CAN YOU SWIM?

uh-huh

16. HAVE YOU SEEN THE MOVIE "DONNIE DARKO"?
multiple times.
17. DO YOU GIVE A DAMN ABOUT THE OZONE?
unfortunately, no.
18. HOW MANY LICKS DOES IT TAKE TO GET TO THE CENTER OF A TOOSTIE POP?
one...tahoo!...three.
19. CAN YOU SING THE ALPHABET BACKWARDS?
after watching the reno 911 drunk driving episode enough, yes
20. HAVE YOU EVER BEEN ON AN AIRPLANE?
unfortunately
21. ARE YOU AN ONLY CHILD?
no
22. DO YOU PREFER ELECTRIC OR MANUAL PENCIL SHARPENER?
i use mechanical pencils, but if i have to sharpen, definitely electric
23. WHAT'S YOUR STAND ON HUNTING?
.i would never do it, but I guess it's no worse than me eating a hamburger
24. IS MARRIAGE IN YOUR FUTURE?
yep, and it's in my present, too
25. DO YOU LIKE YOUR HANDWRITING?
sometimes.
26. WHAT ARE YOU ALLERGIC TO?
the MMR vaccine
27. WHEN WAS THE LAST TIME YOU SAID, "I LOVE YOU" AND MEANT IT?
last night
28. IS ELVIS STILL ALIVE?
anything's possible
29. DO YOU CRY AT WEDDINGS?
mostly just the ones i see on TV
30. HOW DO YOU LIKE YOUR EGGS?
scrambled on a bagel with cheese
31. ARE BLONDES DUMB?
some are, but some brunettes are also dumb
32. WHERE DOES THE OTHER SOCK END UP?
wherever you left it
33. WHAT TIME IS IT?
3:20
34. DO YOU HAVE A NICKNAME?
it used to be caity spaghetti, but not so much anymore
35. IS MCDONALD'S DISGUSTING?
the vein in the chicken nugget i once got was
36. WHEN WAS THE LAST TIME YOU WERE IN A CAR?
yesterday on the way home from work
37. DO YOU PREFER BATHS OR SHOWERS?
neither. i hate taking the time.
38. IS SANTA CLAUS REAL?
if only...
39. DO YOU LIKE TO HAVE YOUR NECK KISSED?
depends on who's kissing it!
40. ARE YOU AFRAID OF THE DARK?
i slept with the light on till i went to college. you be the judge.
41. WHAT ARE YOU ADDICTED TO?
reality TV, e-mail
42. CRUNCHY OR CREAMY PEANUT BUTTER?
creamy, if at all
43. CAN YOU CRACK YOUR NECK?
yes. don't knock it till you try it.
44. HAVE YOU EVER RIDDEN IN AN AMBULANCE?
not that i know of...
46. IS DRUG FREE THE WAY TO BE?
of course
47. ARE YOU A HEAVY SLEEPER?
very
48. WHAT COLOR ARE YOUR EYES?
plain old brown
50. DO YOU LIKE YOUR LIFE?
overall, it's alright.
51. IS YOUR NAME ALAN?
if it was, the answer to 50 would be "no."
52. ARE YOU PSYCHIC?
there's always those "women's intuition" moments, but i can't get in touch with your dead uncle, if that's what you're asking
53. HAVE YOU READ "CATCHER IN THE RYE"?
no
54. DO YOU PLAY ANY INSTRUMENTS?
used to play the flute, but not anymore
55. HAVE U EVER STOLEN MONEY?
money? no.
56. CAN YOU SNOWBOARD?
i've tried, but i don't want to try, try again.
57. DO YOU LIKE CAMPING?
not really
58. DO YOU SNORT WHEN U LAUGH?
occassionally one slips out
59. DO YOU BELIEVE IN MAGIC?
no, but that doesn't make it any less neat
60. ARE DOGS A MAN'S BEST FRIEND?
i'll go with julie and say that women are really man's best friend
61. YOU BELIEVE IN DIVORCE?
only under very specific circumstances
62. CAN YOU DO THE MOONWALK?
can you?
64. IS IT COLD OUTSIDE TODAY?
it's mild
65. WHAT WAS THE LAST THING YOU ATE?
gummy bears
66. DO YOU WEAR NAIL POLISH?
i'm too lazy to worry about my nails
67. Do you wish you could live somewhere else?
if i could take a few things from here and move them to a different location, then yes, i do.
68. WHAT'S THE MOST ANNOYING TV COMMERCIAL?
i change the channel when commercials come on.
69. DO YOU SHOP AT AMERICAN EAGLE?
I used to, but i think i'm outgrowing it
70. FAVORITE BAND AT THE MOMENT?
he's not a band, but i do like brad paisley.

who in the what now?

I tend to use this blog to point out absurdities found in the Hollywood circle or other types of media. This post is no different. I was watching Access Hollywood today, and they had a bit on the perfect sunglasses for each face shape. There were rimless sunglasses for heart-shaped faces, aviators for round faces, but the real kicker was what they suggested for the "perfect" oval-shaped face. They showed a model wearing a pair of big black sunglasses like the ones that the Blues Brothers wore, not much different from the ones you could get at Pizza Hut in the late '80s (only not neon colored). They made a statement something along the lines of, "These glasses are the hottest new trend. Lots of stars are wearing them, like Joaquin Phoenix in 'Walk the Line.'" Um...have they ever see "Walk the Line?" Do they know it takes place in the '60s?? I would hardly use a star wearing sunglasses for a part in a movie set 40 years ago as an example for the hottest new trend. That's stretching it just a little bit, don't you think?

Book Review

Currently reading: Memoirs of a Geisha

Current insightful quote from Memoirs of a Geisha: "Grief is a most peculiar thing; we're so helpless in the face of it. It's like a window that will simply open of its own accord. The room grows cold, and we can do nothing but shiver. But it opens a little less each time, and a little less; and one day we wonder what has become of it."

I'm not much of a reader, so it took me a while to get into this book, but I'm about 3/4 of the way through it now, and I'm really enjoying it. I'm looking forward to seeing the movie.

Bad Boys

All my life, I've played by the rules. Well, all my life minus one year of being influenced by a bad friend. Either way, I've spent the majority of my time here abiding by seatbelt laws, school handbooks, and company policies. I'm not sure why I've always been such an upright citizen, but I have a hunch that it stems from my fear of being punished for doing wrong, rather than some kind of moral righteousness. I don't get a rush of adrenaline from doing something "bad," nor do I feel my life is dull or boring. I like the secure feeling of being a goody two-shoes. I'm not hiding an extramarital affair or embezzling funds from my thriving employer, and I wouldn't dare take two from the "have one" jar of free samples. Not having to worry about getting caught doing something I shouldn't be is great, but I find myself getting annoyed with those people who do decide to walk the line and do a little tango with law enforcement, if you will.

My first reaction to this feeling is guilt, because maybe I'm jealous of these risk takers. But as I have already mentioned, I like playing it on the safe side. I wouldn't say I'm jealous of the girl who consistently stays overtime at work when we've been told numerous times that our time punches shouldn't exceed 40 hours a week. I think it's more of a itchy little annoying feeling that says, "Why would this person blatantly ignore the rules?" Sure, everyone is entitled to decide for his or herself what regulations to live by, but I am irked nonetheless. It's the person who wears black shoes to graduation, when we were only "allowed" to wear white. It's someone who rolls through every stop sign they come to on the road of life. Rule breaking, to me, is just a sign of lack of respect for the higher authority in whatever situation, and possibly a bit of carelessness at listening to the rules in the first place. Maybe you are a rule breaker and proud of it. I've just never understood defiant attitudes, and I'm guessing that there's a chance I won't fully understand it until I've got teenagers of my own.

Force of Habit

A strange thing has been happening to me lately. I find myself trying to unlock my apartment door, my mom's front door, my mailbox, and various other locks with my remote control key for my car. All of my keys are on the same ring, so whenever I approach something that needs unlocking, I sometimes look down to realize that yes, I am aiming the remote at it and subconciously thinking it's going to open somehow. It's one of those moments where you glance around and hope no one saw you, though I've been doing it so frequently, I'm sure I've been caught at least once. I can't wait until the day my mailbox actually does swing open at the click of my remote. That'll be a shocker. Until then, I'm probably just going to have to try to uncondition myself from this strange habit of mine. It's funny how the brain works, isn't it?

Florence in all her glory

Guy was able to make a recording of the greatest answering machine message ever. Here it is.
Enjoy!

The Circle of Life

Sometimes I look at life and think, "Is there any new thing that really new?" Every movie, every book, every style of clothing...they all seem to be retellings of and twists on their ancestors. If you keep your clothes long enough, they're bound to come back into style at some point (hopefully with the exception of tapered jeans). Whether you will still fit into them is a different story, but there's only so much designers can do with fabrics, colors, buttons, and trims. Same goes for movies. Most movies I see remind me in some way of another movie, be it in the simple details, the repeated use of the "it-list" actors, or sometimes just the whole plot outline. If you've seen one romantic comedy, you've seen them all. (But, guys, that is no excuse not to take your girlfriends/wives/lonely platonic friends to see them. Women like predictability.)
I'm just waiting for something truly different to come along one day, but maybe that's simply impossible. Without new material, the best we can do is recycle the old.

Bow-chicka Bow-wow

While satisfying my hypochondrial nature, I came across this illustration.

Me: (reading caption) "Moderate scoliosis..."

Guy: So, that's what they're calling it these days.

Top 100

Yahoo news just informed me that Eva Longoria was number one on Maxim's most recent Top 100 list. Various stages of emotion ensued.

Stage 1: Curiousity -- Who else did they choose for this elite list? Must click on headline link to find out more.

Stage 2: Envy -- Skimming the list of names from Jessica Alba down to Angelina Jolie and Scarlett Johannsen, it's hard not to feel a slight tinge of jealousy at the sight of seemingly perfect women. And I don't care what any girl says, I think anyone would consider it a compliment that a major men's magazine has chosen you as one of the 100 best-looking people they can think of.

Stage 3: Contempt -- My eyes stop and linger on the name I knew would be there, but in no way will ever understand why it is -- Lindsay Lohan. Everything about that girl is unattractive to me. From the start, I have never been able to comprehend what Hollywood/the general male population sees in her. The grand attempt at covering up her freckles, the unnatural weight/hair color changes, the voice that sounds like a 70-year-old chain smoker...I just don't see the draw there.

Stage 4: Rationalization -- Reason starts to kick in and I realize that not only have most of the photos I've ever seen of these people undergone intense touch-up sessions, but hair stylists, professional makeup artists, personal trainers, and dietary consultants can do wonders if you can afford them. Maybe, just maybe, underneath all of that glitz and glamour is a normal-looking person. (We'll probably never know.)

Stage 5: Real-life application -- A recent controversy at a local high school revolved around a "top 25" list that some boys made about their female classmates. Last I heard, they were suspended and possibly awaiting a lawsuit. Vulgur and inappropriate, yes, but surprising? No. If Maxim can openly rate the top 100, why can't they? In their minds, at least, it seems like a perfectly acceptable pasttime.

Stage 6: The bottom line -- I really hate lists that rank people on looks. Not only does it cause definite self-esteem damage to normal, healthy girls, but it encourages men to look at women as objects. While all that is well and good, I have come to accept that in America, what will be will be, and these lists will probably keep popping up as long as people like me have the curiosity to peruse them in the first place. It's one big vicious cycle.

Answering Machine Ignorance

Since Guy and I have only had our new phone number for about a year now, we tend to get a lot of calls to wrong numbers. It gets annoying sometimes, but we do get some real beauties from people who don't actually listen to our answering machine message and leave words for someone who definitely doesn't live here. I don't know how you could leave a message for Christopher Blackwell that he does not have strep throat, but he should continue to take his antibiotics, when the answering machine says, "Hi, this is Guy and Caity. We're not here right now, but leave a message, and we'll call you back." Usually when the person you're trying to get in touch with is in no way named on the recording, you should check the number and dial again.

I also got a message on my cellphone which was along the same lines -- "Kathy, it's your aunt Kat. Call me." And the lady proceeded to leave her phone number. A few days later, a familiar sounding voice called and asked for Kathy. I bet she was probably wondering why her niece hadn't called her back.

But by far the best wrong number call Guy and I have gotten so far was as follows...

"Brian, this is Florence. If she keeps stomping on the floor, will my ceiling come down? If it does, I don't know what the hell I'll do. Thank you. Bye-bye."

What??!??! That is one message that will never get erased.

Achy-Breaky Heart

Have you ever listened to a song that just physically makes your heart hurt? That's how I feel when I listen to "Breathe" by Sia. Of course, it could be the context in which I first heard the song that makes me feel that way (during the Six Feet Under series finale death sequence), but I really think it's just a painful song. It makes me think about time passing and people that I miss, and sometimes those are sad things.

I don't really consider myself a very sentimental person. Maybe I don't have a lot to be sentimental about, but looking back on high school and college doesn't really bring tears to my eyes. There are some people who would probably stay in those periods of life forever and a day if they could, but I was always ready to put them behind me. Sure, there were meaningful people and events, but I don't really have a desire to reconnect to the things that made me who I was then. I even get bothered sometimes by people who constantly want to keep in touch with old friends, even though they've got nothing in common anymore but the past. Maybe I'm just a hypocrite though, because I can think of two people whose friendships I dearly miss. And while I am reminiscing about the past with them, they could just as well be on the other end, wondering why I'd even bother. One of these people just became totally different and didn't like what I had to say about it. The other was a natural friend-magnet and eventually became too busy/popular. I think about them both often, especially while listening to heart-hurting songs.

Missing Talents

"Can't dance, can't sing, but always feel like you wanna." My mom summed up my life's story with these few words. After going to Greek Sing at Grove City on Saturday, I got to imagining how great it would be to be able to sing well. And I'm not talking Britney Spears level where you can sing enough to get a record deal, but your albums are so electronically altered that you sound more like a robot than a human being. I want to be able to sing like, say, Jennifer Knapp, for instance. I know some people might not know who Jennifer Knapp is, but she is a Christian singer who I've seen live enough times to know that she really can sing. I just think it would be enjoyable to be able to sing along to a song at the top of my lungs and know that it sounds good when it comes out.

As far as dancing goes, I really like watching good dancers. Since my mom is as unartistically talented as I am, I blame my lack of ability on bad genes. Yes, it is fun to flail around to music and dance as a joke, but boy would it be even more fun to dance and know you look sweet doing it. I think I need to clarify something, though. When I am talking about dancers, I guess I'm referring more to hip-hop style rather than ballet or ballroom. Sure, those styles might be just as difficult, if not more, but I like things that have a bit more bounce to them.

So, if I got one wish in life where I could bless myself with a talent, my first choice would obviously be singing. And if the talent Genie decided to throw in a freebie, then my life would be complete when I grooved to the beat. :)

If Shoes Could Talk...

Every morning and every afternoon on my commute to work, I pass under a scene not unlike this.
The classic "shoes on a telephone wire." The shoes I drive under each day are much nicer than the ones in the photograph, though. They're those nice Adidas basketball shoes that were a big trend a few years ago. When I see them, I have to wonder how they got there. Now, don't be a smart alick like Guy and say/think, "Well, obviously someone threw them up there." Maybe I should say that I wonder why they got there, or under what circumstances they arrived in their current position. Was the owner part of the game to see who could land the perfect toss, or was it a cruel prank? Is there any possible way they got there by accident? I once knew a boy who had a bad key-twirling habit, and consequently ended up with his lanyard tangled in tree branches all around the Grove City College campus, so I guess anything's possible.

Maybe it's sad that shoes dangling from a wire on my way to and from work is the most interesting thing I have to write about, but if shoes could talk, we might think differently.

Yo-dee-oh-dee-oh-dee-oh-dee-eye

I found this little paragraph on the CBS Survivor blog, written by Rafe, and I just really got a kick out of it because it was my favorite moment of last week's episode. If you watch, maybe you will enjoy it, too. If you don't watch, you should start (but not now. next season.)

"It was as Courtney and Shane were talking, and he threatened to kill her. Then assured her that he was serious. Then said, “Listen. I am going to come to your little apartment, and kill you. And you will be DEAD.” And then Courtney gets upset, not with the fact that he is openly threatening her life, but that he called her apartment little."

Are they "cerious"?? Get it? "Cerious"? Like, Cereal plus Serious = "Cerious." Okay, I think you've got it.

In America's oh-so-weight-conscious society today, it is only natural that companies try to cash in on the trend. If you are somehow able to stomach food after seeing Anna Nicole's endorsements for Trim Spa, you can hop on the healthy grains bandwagon, since everything from Kraft Mac & Cheese to Teddy Grahams is now labeled as "a good source of whole wheat." I have to say, though, that my personal favorite weight loss quick-fix is the cereal diet. The brand that comes to mind first is Special K, but I think there are others out there with the same absurd idea -- dieters substitute a bowl of their cereal for two meals a day, and eat the third meal "as they normally do." After two weeks on this ingenious plan, they claim you will have a smaller waist. Special K's website says the average dieter loses five pounds.

Five pounds??? Is eating cereal for two meals a day for 14 days really worth an almost neglible weight difference? I could eat Lucky Charms for two meals a day and lose five pounds in two weeks. Heck, I could eat a Hershey Bar for two meals a day and get the same result. It's a simple equation -- starving yourself = weight loss. Kellogg's is definitely not the first one to figure that one out.

Though the cereal diet has its obvious flaws, I am sure there are women out there who have tried it and liked the results. I'd also be willing to bet those same women gained back the five pounds, and maybe even a few additional ones, the second they started eating regular meals again. So, here we have another American illogicalism that I can sum up better with someone else's words rather than my own -- "After two weeks of dieting, often the only thing you lose is 14 days."

Free Ride

When I was younger, I thought that my older brother would grow up to be a rich computer genius (he did) and my younger brother would be rolling in the dough when he became a professional baseball player (he didn't.) I also thought that because my brothers would be rich, I could afford to take on a more humble position as a dolphin trainer at Sea World, and they would obviously share their Duck Tales-sized piles of gold with me (I didn't, and neither did they.) Having two brothers and eventually an additional two step-siblings taught me to share, but I guess I learned that whole concept a little too well.

I realize now that I was silly to think that my brothers would just pass on their earnings to me, but as I read an article about Hilary and Haylie Duff this morning, I came to the conclusion that some people never grew out of the idea of sibling mooching. Take Hilary, the younger and prettier sister. She grew up before our eyes on "Lizzie McGuire" and diversified her image by putting out some pretty catchy pop songs and starring in blockbusters like "Cheaper by the Dozen." Her older, less attractive sister, Haylie, waited for Hilary to do all the work and then found her opportune time to hitch a ride on the fame train. The first time I saw her, they were in a video together for a remake of "Our Lips are Sealed." Haylie, you should have kept your lips sealed, girl, because you're singing to the tune of "riding your sister's coattails," and it's not sounding pretty.

Sure, having a famous sibling must be tough, but do you really want to be listed among the ranks of Aaron Carter and Ashlee Simpson? Make a new name for yourself, if you're really talented. Or at least play off your sister's fame in another area, like Beyonce's mom did with her fashion design. For now, I think one Duff is quite enough.

Logic Problems

I used to be pro-choice...until I thought about it a little more. (Yes, this is an abortion-oriented post, but read on. I'll keep it short.) I have never been a fanatic on either end of the spectrum, but I used to think that it was okay to let a woman decide whether or not she wanted to have a baby. Then one day in Mr. Buckley's 9th grade health class, we talked about how California was creating laws to prosecute mothers who smoked while they were pregnant for harming the fetus. Something clicked in my brain. We would allow a mother to terminate this pregnancy, but if she decides to keep it and take part in a potentially damaging habit, she can be slapped with a jail sentence? Why do the unborn suddenly matter?

Another example -- earlier this year, there was a funeral director, I believe, who was found to have kept a large number of aborted fetuses in his garage rather than cremating them like he was supposed to. He was going to be charged with "abuse of corpse." Yes, what he did was vile, but how can he "abuse" something that was "not really a baby, just a bunch of cells"??? I mean, you can't really abuse something any further than killing it in the first place, as far as I can tell. Why not charge him with animal cruelty for overcooking a spiral ham? It sounds absurd, but if it's not lawfully wrong to kill something in the first place, it doesn't make sense to treat it as if it has rights after it's already dead.

You could go one way with this and say that since it's okay to have an abortion, then it should be okay for mothers to smoke while they're pregnant, or for funeral directors to do whatever they please with aborted fetuses, but I think it makes much more sense to take it in the other direction and realize that if those things are wrong, then abortion should be as well. I'm not asking for much...just a little bit of simple logical thinking.

My Arch Enemy...not really, but still.

I met a lot of people at Grove City that I like, but there is one girl that I will probably always remember with a fiery feeling of dislike in my gut. Her name is Natalie, and the reason I feel that way about her is because of a bad first impression...or second, or third, or fourth impression. I have never held a long conversation with this girl, and I know that a lot of my friends actually like her, but I don't think I ever will because I can't get over the fact that I literally "met" her three or four times within the first few days of college, and every single time, she acted like she had never met me before. Now, either this girl just has a terrible memory, or she is too conceited to stop thinking about trying to be loud and funny and take a little notice of her surroundings. I opted to think it was the latter.

The first time I met her, it was because of Eileen. I think they were in band together. We were introduced and talked briefly. The second time was at the grafitti dance. Now, I'll give her a free pass here. You meet a lot of people on the first day of college, and it's okay to not remember names, but the way she re-met me just really turned me off. She comes up to me, grabs my little nametag button that we were all wearing, and goes "hello...Caitlin." I hate being called Caitlin, and I probably looked at her like she was crazy because I had just talked to her earlier in the day. The third time I met her was simply just in passing. I think we crossed paths on the sidewalk and she was totally oblivious to the fact that I had already met her twice. I'm not sure if there was a fourth meeting or not, but by that point, my dislike for her was already permanently imbedded in my soul.

The real kicker is this -- on graduation day, all the seniors were in the IM room, and Lauren and I were walking over to talk to Mrs. Van Til. We passed by this girl, and her and her friend looked at me and were like, "I've never even seen that girl before!" If I was Wayne Brady, I might have had to choke a bitch, but I'm not, so I didn't. I just continued with my seemingly accurate judgment of her that she is a rude and obnoxious person.

So, take a piece of advice from this little rant, and really make an effort to remember people that you meet. It's okay if you don't remember their names the second time around, but don't try to act like you've never met them before, and especially don't actually believe that you've never met them before. It's just not nice.

And on a lighter note...

Happy Easter! Be kind to your chocolate bunnies.

ALEXANDRIA, Va. - Confessed al-Qaida conspirator Zacarias Moussaoui said Thursday it made his day to hear accounts of Americans' suffering from the Sept. 11, 2001, attacks and he would like to see similar attacks "every day."

That is taken from one of the many articles online detailing Moussauoi's trial. What I want to know is why we even bother having trials for such disgusting excuses for human beings. It really angers me that 1. there are lawyers out there willing to attempt a defense for this guy, and 2. that we give him the opportunity to sit there in the courtroom and mock the victims of September 11th. There's really no other way around it. While the jury has to listen to hours and hours of testimony and look at gruesome pictures of the violence that occurred that day, this man is sitting there loving every second of it and giving himself a pat on the back. I think it's almost embarassing that we have to go about his trial this way. I usually have faith in the American justice system, but this is one time when I can't help but think that there has to be a better way...

Celebrity Look-Alike

I was watching Best Week Ever today, which I think is one of the funniest shows on television, and they mentioned a website called myheritage.com, where you can upload a picture of yourself, run it through facial recognition software, and find out which celebrities you share a bone structure with.

Naturally, I had to try it out. I submitted this picture...

and it told me that I look like Mel C. from the Spice Girls, Olivia Newton-John, Evangeline Lilly, Meryl Streep, and James Cameron, to name a few. I know what you're thinking -- I don't look like any of those people (except maybe a slight resemblance to James Cameron)...but it was fun nonetheless.

I've sometimes had this theory about myself that in a way, I look a little bit like everyone. Whenever I meet new people, I am frequently told, "You look so familiar, but I can't figure out why." I've just deduced that maybe there are a lot of people out there who look somewhat similar to me, and that's why these people think they've met me before. Or maybe they're just close friends with Olivia Newton-John or the Spice Girls. Either way, give myheritage.com a try, if not for me, then for the Best Week Ever crew.

Clueless

I think all high schools should offer classes on automotive mechanics. Whether or not they should be required classes, I'm not sure, but I really wish I would have been able to spend a semester in a class that would have provided me with some basic knowledge on how a car runs. I'm not talking anything too in depth -- just something that teaches young drivers where the different parts of the car are, what things are called, and how the hickymadoodle turns the thingamajig to make it all run. Now that I am an "adult," I find that knowledge of cars is an area in which I am completely and totally lacking.

I took my car for its state inspection today, and of course, as car places always do, they called back with a laundry list of extra things that needed to be done to it aside from what I took it there for. Something about rusty rotors or worn brake pads or fluid exchanging. I don't know. But I do know that as soon as the words "totaling around $485" came out of the lady's mouth, I felt my lack of automotive knowledge become painfully apparent. Of course, I did what I always do with car places, which is pick my jaw up off the floor and tell them that I have to get back to them after I talk to someone else. But then I have to struggle through trying to explain to someone else what I was told so that it makes sense in a way that I can even go about getting a second opinion.

Luckily, my car doesn't actually need what Sears recommended to pass inspection, and Guy's uncle is a mechanic who can give us a less money-grubbing opinion of what truly needs done, but I can't help but wish that I would have had the opportunity in my school days to learn about and understand one of the most critical aspects of my daily life. Thanks for nothing, PTHS.

Psst!

If you haven't been to postsecret.com, or if you haven't been there this week, you should go.
It's basically a blog that a guy created where people send him secrets on artsy-looking postcards. He updates them every Sunday, and I've read that he has received thousands and thousands of submissions.

This site is funny, sad, shocking, and sometimes makes your heart ache for the person who sent in that postcard, but it's worth looking at if you have some free time.

**Disclaimer: Postsecret.com is not censored and sometimes displays profanities and possibly offensive ideas. If you are under 60" in height, pregnant, or have heart or back problems, please visit disney.com instead.

Look Who's Watching Now

I once wrote a paper on reality television shows. It was called "Reality Television: Staple of the
American Home or Seed of the Devil?" Pretty good Grove City title, if I do say so myself.

Anyway, this paper was written two years ago, but since then, I have continued to be a reluctant fan of reality TV. It all started with watching seven strangers stop being polite and start getting real, but my reality TV interests grew to include home improvement shows, wedding shows, shows about spoiled rich kids, and of course, who can forget the reality game show? I don't know what it is about watching other people live out their lives, but I will almost always choose to watch any of the various reality shows on TV rather than a rerun of an old sitcom. I guess there is something to be said for the fact that Americans, myself included, are voyeuristic at heart. I enjoy watching Veronica and Coral torment the other girls on RWRR challenges. I love to hate the beautiful (however fake they may be) models on 8th & Ocean, and I tune in every Thursday night at 8:00 to see who gets voted off the island. I guess you could say I'm addicted.

The funny thing is, I used to want to be on a reality show. Sometimes, I have a moment of temporary insanity and reconsider this wish, but I realize now that behind the claims of truthfulness and sincerity lies a creative team of casting agents, producers, and editors who know exactly what makes good television. Just like a hit drama or sitcom, a reality show has its cast of characters, with the villain, the all-american hero, the scapegoat, the mindless sidekicks, etc., etc. Splice a few months of my life into a 30-minute episode, and I'm sure I could fit into any one of those molds.

There is much that can (and possibly someday will) be said about reality television, but for now, I'm going to let you decide for yourself. Reality television -- staple of the American home or seed of the devil? You be the judge.

Faulty Advertising

Remember when M&M's used to use the slogan "Melts in your mouth, not in your hand"? Well, after eating lots and lots of M&M's over my 23 years of living, I've learned, as I'm sure a lot of you have as well, that this slogan is complete and totally false. If you grab a handful of the delicious candy-coated chocolates and eat them slowly, a few at a time, without fail, you will always end up with stained hands. Around Easter, the stains are a little less obvious, since they're pastel, but they're there nonetheless.

My question is, why would the Mars candy company use such a blatantly untrue statement as their tagline? There are lots of good things to say about M&M's. Why not create a memorable slogan that's actually true?

I can't remember if they still continue to use this slogan, since the only thing that comes to mind when I think of M&M's is the giant, talking red and yellow ones, but if they do, I think that they should stop. Immediately.

The Money Pit

I'm sure you've all received some sort of charitable donation solicitation in the mail at some point in time. You know, they send you address labels with a request for a small donation to their cause. Like most people, I used to just take the labels and throw the request away, but when Guy and I first moved into our apartment, I don't know if it was the thrill of adulthood or if they just caught me on a particularly charitable day, but I decided to send a small token of my appreciation to the VFW. I have many relatives that are veterans, and I thought just sending $15 would be appropriate to outweigh the cost of the labels. After all, they always say that no donation is too small.

Well, all was well and good until we began being flooded with VFW mailings. We now have more address labels than we could use in ten years, some nice notecards, and even a patriotic tote bag. I can't help but thinking that they're taking the well-intentioned $15 I gave and "donating" it right back to me in the form of red-white-and-blue junk!

I'd like to see figures detailing what type of return these junk mail solicitations actually bring in, but until then, I think my charitable donations will be spent elsewhere.

A Big Plug for My Little Bro

This is the story of the time my little brother grew his hair into a fro, went to college, and joined a band. He plays bass in a group called Cloverleaf at Penn State, and they are now trying to win some kind of contest for mtvU's best band on campus. I'm not entirely sure of all the ins and outs of this deal, but if you're interested, I recommend that you click the link below, check out a few of their songs, and if you like them, give them a five and submit your vote. If you don't like them, don't bother voting, because we wouldn't want this contest to be skewed by the votes of naysayers, would we?

Here's Cloverleaf.

Ridiculousness

There is one thing in life that I will never understand. That thing is alcohol. Sure, I had my phase in life where I was curious and wanted to know what things tasted like, but I have never been drunk, or even buzzed (which I consider the same thing as drunk), and I can guarantee you that I never will be.

Confusion #1: "Alcohol is an acquired taste." -- Why would you want to purposefully drink something that tastes like burning in order to acquire a taste? What is the point? Not only is it an addiction waiting to happen, but you are spending money on something that is gross just so you can grow to like it.

Confusion #2: "Drink it. It doesn't even taste like alcohol at all!" Okay, well most of the times I've heard that, it has been false. Wine coolers do not taste like fruit juice, no matter what you say. And furthermore, if it doesn't taste like alcohol, why not get the nonalcoholic equivalent? Unless, of course, you're trying to get drunk, which brings me to...

Confusion #3: Some people say I can't criticize this since I haven't ever been drunk and don't know "how fun it is," but seriously, why do you need a substance to alter your personality in order to have fun? If that's the case, then you're probably a pretty lame or insecure person to begin with. Why risk all the health problems and various other drunken mistakes you will probably make just for a little bit of fun?

Confusion #4: People who purposefully make it known that they drink and love getting drunk. Why is it that in pictures of people at parties, they always have to hold their red plastic cups or bottles up and include them in the picture, like it's some sort of symbol of their coolness or the fun they're having? I also dislike when people make it seem like even having a single drink is some sort of sophisticated or high-class thing to do. Telling a story like "Yeah, I just took a nice long bath and had a glass of wine," like you're from 'Sex and the City' or something. It just sounds ridiculous to me.

If it were up to me, we'd have prohibition again, because I really can't see any good in alcohol at all. I know that 99.9% of the people reading this will disagree with me on one or all of my confusions, but I stand by my feelings. Out of all of my friends, I know of only one person who sees it the same way I do. There used to be more, but then college hit, and people changed. I guess it's just a lonely world in the alcohol-free zone.

Who's Afraid of the Big Bad Wolf?

So, I know that I mentioned in an earlier post that I would think twice before buying into the bird flu hype, but when even respected talk radio hosts like Sean Hannity start to say we should prepare for it, I start being a hypocrite.

I just think it is beyond fathomable to even consider what the world would be like if a flu pandemic hit like they're saying it will. Could we go to work? Go shopping? Go anywhere? And what if one out of every three people you knew just died. That's pretty crazy, if you ask me. (And I bet if you asked someone else, they'd think it's pretty crazy, too).

However, my purpose for this post is not to intensify the fear or support the media's take on the avian flu. My intention is to actually bring a little comfort to those of you worrywarts out there, who, like me, think about the bird flu before lying down to sleep each night. I came across this opinion article today from the Christian Science Monitor, which I think may be a more liberal source, I'm not really sure. But the article just takes a perspective on the pandemic that I haven't heard, and it eased my mind a little bit. So, if you find yourself avoiding your usual chicken nuggets for lunch or the sound of birds chirping outside your window is more like the screeching Psycho theme than a pleasant reminder of springtime, I suggest you take a looksie at this here link.

Read me.

My Dream

I started out this one intending to post some of my favorite quotes from days of yore, but while I was looking for what I wanted to put on here, I came across one of my most favorite stories of all time, so I decided to post it instead. This was on a piece of paper that my brother found on the street by his fraternity house in college, which was close to an elementary school. So, without further ado, here is the work entitled "My Dream." Enjoy.

I dream that I everday eat Hot dog. I have $9,000,000,000. I have 2,000 houses. 200 VCR's. I have a plane, two cars, and a truck. I have a small dog. I have world. I have 90,000 toy cars, toy tank, toy jet. I have planet. My father and I play a game. I have a computer. I have a zoo (has dinosaurs). I everday drink milk and tea a BOEing 747 plane. brings I all world fly. I have 2,000 gold. I'm Immortal.

And that's it. A young child's dream that floated down the street and into the hands of a person who thankfully passed it on to me. The End.

Universal Talent

One thing I've realized from the pervasiveness of blogs, live journals, and sites like itube or ifilm is the large amount of talented and creative people that exist in the world, most of which are undiscovered talents. How does anyone ever get famous if there are so many other people out there with equivalent or better skills? I guess maybe it just takes an extreme passion for what you want to do, a bit of talent, and a smidge of luck. I've always thought it would be cool to just be one of those people that was "discovered" on the street. Like on the newest cycle of "America's Next Top Model," one of the girls didn't even try out. They just saw her in a mall and asked her to come on the show. Granted, I've also heard stories of girls getting "discovered" in shopping malls and then getting sucked into underground prostitution rings, but still. You have to admit that you'd feel pretty special if someone just came up to you and wanted you to do something that other people work their whole lives towards and can't achieve.

But I digress...

As far as blogs go, I always enjoy clicking on blogs of people I don't know and just seeing their writing styles. I have to say that I kind of dislike the blogs that are written with a real smoothness and flow and use lots of eloquent language and sound like poetry. I enjoy the more rough, natural style of writing where it sounds like somebody just put their thoughts down on internet paper and happened to end up with few great lines while they were at it.

And as for "viral videos," even though most of the best ones I've seen are spoofs, it still takes a creative mind and some skill to get them out there. Some of my favorites I've seen so far are:

Lazy Sunday
Brokeback to the Future
Real Life Simpsons
Super Mario on 2 Guitars
and of course, I can't forget the Numa Numa guy.
He will always give me a good laugh.

So, if you're having a boredom spell or just want to be entertained for 1-5 minutes, check out itube.com or ifilm.com and search for any of the above clips.

Symbiosis

There are two things I like. One is stationery, and the other is using things up. I am always attracted to stationery of various sorts, and I have a drawer full of different papers and cards for many kinds of occassions. As far as using things up goes, I'm not sure why, but I just really enjoy when I have a lot of something, and I see it diminishing, and then when I finally get to the end of it. For instance, when I buy a book of stamps, I just love when I make it the whole way through and I get to go pick out new stamps. It's too bad the last time I went to buy them, they only had Lady Libertys, so I'm stuck with her for a while. But regardless, the combination of my two likes turns into a desire to write letters to people. I'm not sure if I actually enjoy writing the letter, but I really like using up the stationery and decorating the envelope with stickers. The sad part of this story is that since I'm not in college anymore, I don't have a lot of people to write to. So, if you'd like to bring a little joy to my life and yours, give me your address. I'll get to satisfy my urges, and you will get to receive some exciting mail, other than bills or junk. You don't even have to write back! (Although I do think it's nice when people acknowledge that they received the letter. I don't trust the USPS sometimes.) So, if the prospect of getting non-junk mail interests you, just leave a comment with your address, or find some other way of getting it to me, and then all you've got to do is watch for a letter in the mail!

P.S. -- remember chain letters? It's hard to believe people actually typed up multiple copies of a letter and actually went to the trouble of mailing them, just hoping for a bit of good luck (or lack of bad luck). I highly doubt a chain letter would make it very far in this day and age.

So long, sucker.

Goodbye, Randle El. I will not miss your continual loss of potential yardage by running sideways instead of forward. I will miss your touchdown passes, but we can easily find another player to run the occassional gadget play. The Redskins may have seduced you with cash, but even 31 million dollars won't buy you another Super Bowl ring. Check ya later, buddy.

All the World's a Stage

The new season of Sopranos starts tonight on HBO. It's been so long in coming that I almost forget where we left off with Tony and the gang, but I'm looking forward to an entertaining premiere.

When I got to thinking about The Sopranos and various other well-made television shows, my thoughts turned to the topic of acting in general. I am always impressed when I can watch a show and feel totally undistracted by poor acting or unconvincing character portrayals. The best test of an actor's ability, in my eyes, is when I watch them and think, "I could do that." Now, at first, that might not make sense, since I have virtually no acting experience, but what I mean is that when I see a good acting job, I am so totally convinced that the lines are natural and heartfelt that it just looks easy. My first experience with this feeling was at the ripe age of four when I attended "Sesame Street Live" and was completely convinced that I could easily take on the role of Prairie Dawn. Little did I know that she was not nearly as small as she appeared from the peanut gallery of the Civic Arena, and there was no way a four-year-old could fill out that costume.

Since that time, I've experienced multiple instances of the Prairie Dawn syndrome. Sometimes I think I can handle the role because, frankly, it seems like anyone could. We can't deny that sometimes characters are cast for looks, rather than talent (ahem -- Kelly Kapowski,
Kate on LOST, or any soap opera character), but others have struck that same chord with me because of the sheer relatability of the characters. When I can watch a show and believe I'm watching real people in admittedly exaggerated life situations, that's what I enjoy. Whether it's pure skills, great writing, or a combination of both, I truly appreciate the TV characters that make it so easy for me to believe.

Time wounds every heel

It’s been a year now since my stepdad died. Even though he was in a coma for a few weeks and didn’t technically take his ticket to paradise until later, the day he died to me was the day he had his heart attack, my 22^nd birthday. Sometimes I still can’t believe he’s gone. I think about all the things he’s missed – my brother’s high school graduation, my wedding, the Steelers winning the super bowl…I just wish he could have stuck around for one more year.

I’ve lost people that I love before, but it’s never been as sudden as it was that day. I think when someone leaves and it’s so unexpected, you spend the first few months just grappling with the fact that they’re not there anymore. You have to get used to not seeing them in their usual places, not hearing their voice. It just doesn’t make any sense. But eventually, the awkwardness of their absence fades, and you start building a new life without them. You move on to a sort of remembrance stage, I guess you could call it. We always talk about what Dave would have said in a certain situation or reminisce about the funny things he did. It’s like you can somehow get past the denying that they’re gone by turning them into a figment of your imagination, telling stories about them like they’re a favorite character from a movie or a book.

But then there are his shoes. When I go to my mom’s house, I see his shoes still sitting underneath his desk where he last slipped them off. Those all white, orthopedic-looking Reeboks that he always wore. And that’s when it hits me. He was real. He was there at that desk the night before he died, sending me a birthday email, and not knowing how much things were going to change. He was there, and now he is gone forever. His shoes are a painful reminder of the living, breathing person that is now reduced to a few ashes in an urn. Sometimes I don’t want to look at the shoes when I go, but I have to. Because deep down, I don’t want to forget. Remembering is pain, but maybe it’s the only way to really keep someone alive.

Little Things

Maybe birthdays don't matter to some people, but they always have to me. They kind of bring about that same feeling of excited expectation that I get around Christmas, except a birthday is all about me, not Jesus or Santa. And it's not like birthdays are just a scorecard to keep track of who sends a gift or a happy birthday message, but sometimes it's just painfully obvious which people either don't care or don't know, even though they probably should.

Maybe I feel this way because I've always tried hard to keep track of my friends' special days, and when mine comes and goes without the slighest mention from people I see every week, it feels a little painful, I guess. I don't blame forgetful/careless people, but I just think that if you truly know someone, you know their birthday. And if you don't truly know someone, but you know their birthday anyway, that makes you extra special.

So, if you wished me a happy birthday in some form or another yesterday, just know that it was appreciated, and it made my day a good one. If you forgot...well, there's always next year!

Build a Bridge & Get Over It

Sometimes I can't wait until George W. is out of office. But not because I dislike the man or have huge issues with what he's done in his one and a half terms so far. I just can't stand hearing people whine about him all the time!

Whether I'm at work, sitting at the TV in the morning, or at my cousin's birthday party, I can't escape the constant criticisms of the supposed horror that is the Bush administration. For someone who has never cared much for politics in the first place, it's even more of a nuisance. No matter how you try to link it back to him, George W. Bush did not cause your ingrown toenail. Maybe tax cuts for the rich left you without enough money to buy a toenail clipper, but that's no excuse. Borrow one from a friend or something. That may sound absurd, but that's really how people who constantly whine about the Bush administration sound to me. When anything goes wrong, immediately it's the "incompetent" president's fault. Instead of trying to find a scape goat, why don't people quit immobilizing themselves and work towards a solution? Like it or not, W. is in office for a few more years, so as a somewhat rational human being, I just think it makes more sense to stop laying the blame and start doing something about it.

And for those of you who would rather just sit on your couch and criticize, well, you can just cry me a river and then see above for further instructions.

It's the most wonderful time of the year...or at least a close second.

It's that time of year again: the time when my trash cans become filled with crumpled red, blue, and green foil wrappers, and the sweet, sweet nectar of Cadbury Eggs tickles my tastebuds. I look forward to this every year, and I can't help but be excited when I catch my first glimpse of a Cadbury display in the stores. It's also somewhat convenient that my birthday lies right in the midst of Cadbury Egg season because I tend to get showered with beautifully wrapped 4-packs. It's one time when getting repeat gifts is not only acceptable, but desired! Paul of course takes the cake for Cadbury egg gifting for going to the extent of ordering European Cadbury Eggs off of ebay for me during the off-season. I was a bit nervous they were going to be poisoned at first, but they're all long gone, and I'm still alive, thankfully.

Now, these days, Cadbury has come out with a number of varieties like the mini eggs or the ones with chocolate in the center or carmel, and other companies have tried to copy the deliciousness, but there is just no comparison to the original, life-sized, milk chocolate egg with the sugary heavenlike yolk. Snickers eggs are a good attempt, but that's only because they're a snickers in a different shape.

I've always wondered why Cadbury doesn't sell Cadbury eggish things throughout the whole year, like Peeps does. They could easily make a chocolate Christmas tree, four-leafed clover or Jack-o-Latern with the same tasty filling, but they opt to keep the eggs as a seasonal item. In a way, I'm glad that it's the way it is. Otherwise, maybe Cadbury Eggs would lose a bit of their magic. Having them all year round might just lead to people taking them for granted, like they were any other candy bar. So, in the case of Cadburys, I guess the old addage holds true -- absence really does make the heart grow fonder.

Stolen from a Stealer

I took this from Katie's blog, and Katie took it from someone else, but as all teachers/ex-teachers know, it's okay to steal a good idea. So, click on the link below and pick some words that you think describe me. This is my way of finding out what other people think of me without having to go on reality television. :)

my johari window

Burg(h)ers without Buns

The other day, a girl I was eating lunch with had a plain hamburger with no bun. The sight of the juicy burger being dipped in ketchup prompted my response of "mmm...burgers without buns." After I said it, I realized it kind of has the same ring to it as something like Doctors without Borders. That's when I decided that Burg(h)ers without Buns will be a group dedicated to Pittsburgh women with flat butts, like me! Whether their flat butt is hereditary, as mine is (thanks, mom!) or a result of many years of many days of many hours of sitting in a chair to perform a mundane desk job (thanks, secretarial employers), it doesn't matter. Any Pittsburgh lady with not so much junk in her trunk can join. What the group has to offer to society aside from a welcome break from honkeytonk badonkadonks is yet to be determined.

Because I haven't posted in awhile...or is it a while?

4 jobs I've had:
1. Offline captioner
2. Counselor at Urban Impact
3. Baker at Bruegger's Bagels
4. Cashier at Carmike Cinemas (my favorite ever)

4 movies I could watch over and over:
1. A League of Their Own
2. When Harry Met Sally
3. The Sandlot
4. The Wedding Planner -- I don't even like this one that much, but it's just an easy one to watch over and over.

4 places I've vacationed:
1. Historic Brookville, PA
2. New York, New York
3. Marco Island, FL (don't go)
4. Ocean City, NJ

4 shows I love:
1. Everybody Loves Raymond (a newfound love)
2. Family Guy
3. The [bleep] van [bleep] show -- if you watch the above show, you know what I mean
4. Quantum Leap

4 places I've lived: (nothing exciting here)
1. Peters Township
2. Bethel Park
3. Grove City
4. Pittsburgh's North Side

4 favorite dishes:
1. any kind of meat that's been slow-cooked and smothered in gravy or bbq sauce
2. birthday cake ice cream from Coldstone Creamery
3. bethel bakery cake
4. the whole carbohydrate section of the food pyramid

4 places I'd rather be:
1. in bed
2. at a Chinese restaurant reading a fortune cooking and adding "in bed" to the end of it
3. at the beach
4. in the showcase showdown of The Price is Right

4 people I'm tagging:
are there even four people who read this?

Just Breathe

I have issues with people that sing like they're running out of air on purpose. Let's take Jessica Simpson and her new Pizza Hut commercial, for instance. A pizza with removable cheesy bites for a crust is really not sexy, no matter how much you try to make it that way, so can we please cut out the panting, Jess?

If this is some kind of musical style that is appealing, I just don't get it. Jessica does the "attempting to sound sexy" breathiness, but there are other singers I've heard that just sound like they purposefully breathe really hard in between musical phrases for no apparent reason. It doesn't make me want to listen more. On the contrary, it makes me want to turn down the volume and get them an oxygen tank. To me, a good voice is strong and clear, not raspy and full of air. I know that music is a very subjective thing and different people like different sounds, but this is just one aspect I don't think I can budge on. If you want to make music, do me a favor and remember to breathe.

Poking and Prodding

Medical tests received today: urine examination, blood test, chest x-ray, one "say aah", many requests for deep breaths, weight measurement with a few pounds removed due to wearing my shoes ( the nurse made the disclaimer, not me ), a few temperature readings, and much poking and prodding of my painful side.

Medical tests still to be performed: abdominal ultrasound

All of this plus buying a razor, shave gel, water, and tissues, and shaving my legs in my car in the CVS parking lot due to winter shaving laziness and unexpected doctor's appointment led to an interesting and un-fun day.

P.T. 2000

When I was in middle school, I entered a competition called Invention Convention, which is basically what its name describes -- a convention where kids bring their inventions and are judged on their creativity, usefulness, and all that jazz. When I signed up to do Invention Convention, I don't think that I had any world-changing, life-altering thing in mind to invent. I think I just wanted an easy day off of school. As a result of my lacksidasical attitude, I brought to the I.C. the simplest invention I could think of -- The P.T. 2000. The concept was for it to be a pet translator. You would put this contraption on your pet's head, and somehow it would translate whatever your pet was thinking into English. At its roots, the P.T. 2000 was a glorified baseball hat. I don't think I even tried to create a translator screen or showcase different sizes for hamsters or Great Danes. I took an old hat, stuck a label on it, and cashed in my
get-out-of-school-free card.

Needless to say, I was awarded no prize for my so-called invention that day. I mean, how could any judge award a blue ribbon to a pink and yellow baseball hat with an index card slapped on it when some young Rube Goldberg has shown up with a robot that calculates the air pressure while making scrambled eggs and doing the rhumba? I was a loser from the get-go, but ten years later, after giving it much thought, I still contend that if it could be done, it'd be pretty dang sweet to know what your pet is thinking.

Waiting on Chicken

I've never been much of a cook. Grove City didn't allow us to be grown-ups and live in apartments where we had access to such luxuries as ovens, stoves, large refrigerators, etc., so I didn't really get the chance to hone my skills during my college years. Most people like to joke about how they can't cook and say that the only thing they can make is a TV dinner. For me, that was basically true, and I was okay with it. On breaks, my diet consisted mainly of Stouffer's stuffed pepper TV dinners, and macaroni (pasta, to those of you who might think I mean macaroni and cheese). Now that I have a 135 pound husband to fatten up, cooking has become a part of my daily life, but I'm still not that great at it, nor do I understand it. I can follow a recipe and usually have it turn out alright, but there is absolutely no ad-libbing or room for creativity at all. If Betty Crocker demands 1 1/4 cups of milk, then 1 1/4 cups of milk she will get. And that's the way it is. Don't get me wrong -- I don't mind conforming to a master chef's ideal proportions. One thing that does bother me, though, is that meals never seem to cook as fast as they're supposed to. Right now, I'm waiting on chicken cacciatore, but after the 10 minutes of recommended simmering time, the chicken is still pale and slimy. Thus, the motto of the story is, Betty Crocker might know the difference between a dash and a pinch, but she sure as heck can't tell time.

I must be dreaming

Just a short post because I have to get ready for work, but I can't help but address the fact that I am currently watching Roseanne Barr dressed in a poodle skirt, pink cowboy hat and braided pigtails singing about a donut farm. That just has to be someone's worst nightmare.

DTMs Make Hollywood Comeback

So, is it just me, or do a lot of Hollywood actors seem to be growing dirty mustaches? And by "a lot of Hollywood actors," I mean George Eads, who plays Nick on CSI, and Bryan Dattilo, who plays Lucas on Days of Our Lives. They are both good-looking guys without mustaches, so I can't really see the need to grow one, especially one that's kind of scraggly and only half there. In case you don't know who they are, here are pictures of each of them, sans mustaches.
Now, because I can't find any pictures of them with their mustaches, here is my rendition.


They look pretty much like that, except worse. Very Super Mario/child molester, eh?