Ugh, I'm tired of commuting. This week I was sitting in my car on the 405 minding my own business hoping that traffic would start moving when BAM! A motorcylist stupidly tried to pass a bus in the carpool lane and knocked into my car breaking off part of my sideview mirror. Of course the guy didn't stop. Just kept right on going 70mph as I watched. And of course I didn't give chase. My lane was going zero mph and, as much as I love my vehicle, it's selling point is not that it can go from 0 to 60 in 60 seconds. So that would've been an exercise in futility. Plus as a general rule I feel it is a bad idea to illegally swerve into a carpool lane. Those double yellow lines demand respect. And I was by myself in the car. So...double jeopardy. I would've been fine.
On the upside this week in the car I was so bored with the usual radio stations that I flipped to a country station and decided to listen for a bit. It was fantastic. It's like a bunch of 2min stories about everything from growing up country to losing your girl to punishing your cheating boyfriend or abusive husband. I found it highly entertaining. But sometimes I felt like the songs strayed from their storytelling ways and tried to wax philosophical. And that's where they go terribly wrong (in my opinion). Take the following line for example: "tryin' to make someone care for you the way I do is like tryin' to catch the rain."
The implication to me is that both tryin' to get this girl to love you and tryin' to catch rain are impossible activities. (And sad ones). But....isn't catching the rain possible? I feel like it's not even that hard to catch rain. I mean...weren't rain barrels created for that express purpose? To catch the rain? Can't I walk outside with a bucket while it's raining and trap myself some of that water? I don't know. Maybe I just don't speak country fluently.
Which brings me to the deepest line of that song which - incidentally - is also part of the title of the song: "and if love is really forever, I'm a winner at a losin' game." ....What? What does that even mean?
I feel like one guy came up with that line and then his friend/bandmate was like "ooh, that's good. Yes." and the drummer chimed in "wow. Profound. Seriously, that is amazing." And then later the guy tried the line out on his girlfriend and she told him it gave her chills and even showed him her arm to prove it. But...so....love is a losing game? And you're winning because....you'll always be in love? Lame. I still say it doesn't make sense. It's totally an emperor's clothing situation. People have just accepted your non-sensical ramblings because you have a catchy tune and a nice warble. But I see through you! There are no clothes at all! You can't fool me! (and this is where I break into a semi-maniacal laugh in my car).
But...like I said. I'm a country novice. Maybe in a few weeks I'll be amening those kinds of deep observations with the best of them. And also I'll be wearing a cowboy hat. ....I spend a lot of time in my car.
Friday, December 12, 2008
Sunday, November 16, 2008
Obamaland
I hate to disappoint those who may be under the impression that I'm about to write about Obama. Admittedly the title is deceptive that way. But I just recently returned from Chicago and, as of late, Chicago is the land of Obama and Obamaness. So it just seemed like it would be okay to use Chicago's synonym in this instance. ...Chicago is also the land of Oprahness but that's old news.
This wasn't my first trip to Chicago. My first trip was when I was nine or so and we were out there for the summer for my dad's work. I remember thinking it was fun but I suppose I really only took away three things from Chicago:
1. The McDonalds served pizza
2. There was always someone dressed as a giant bag of popcorn handing out free little bags of popcorn at the park
3. A memorization of all Raffi songs since that was all we ever listened to in the car due to the fact that we carpooled most places with a family that had a 4 year old kid. I hated that stupid tape.
So on this, my second trip to Chicago, I wasn't sure what to expect. I mean, maybe the McDonalds with pizza would still be around, but I had no real hope of getting free popcorn in the park and I figured no cabbies would be playing Raffi in their vehicles. So what else would Chicago offer me? Turns out, plenty.
1. I randomly played softball with a city league team that was short a player. Yes I was wearing jeans, my slip-on Vans (read: no traction) and five layers of shirts, sweatshirts and jackets (that is not an exaggeration). No I wasn't any good. Yes the game ended early when they had to enact the mercy rule.
2. I rode the train and felt smug about it. It's odd what makes me feel like an adult.
3. The air around my hotel smelled like chocolate. It was fabulous. Everyone should get to live near a chocolate factory. Especially me.
4. I ate real Chicago deep dish pizza from Giordano's. Thank you Master Wentworth, you were right, it was amazing.
5. I got to see one of my favoritest friends and catch up and eat cookies and see her home and family and watch her adorable daughter walk around all night with only one red cowboy boot on.
6. I dominated at Nertz. But....that's not unique to my being in Chicago. heh heh heh
Alright enough with the list. Really Chicago was awesome. I think it may be my new favorite big city. It was so clean and pretty. Though, at the time, freezing. Still, I forgive Chicago its harsh weather given that it is November and I am somewhat spoiled by the warm weather in the particular area I live.
Anyway. Even though I didn't see Obama or Oprah I still loved my Chicago trip. And I fully intend to go back again sometime when I don't have to spend my days in the underground of a hotel sitting in seminars and classes and whatnot.
So! Linz be prepared for me to take you up on that guest room offer, and I fully expect we'll have time to find that gourmet popcorn next time (I have good memories of Chicago and popcorn). And to my softball teammate, have the pizza and cards ready. Maybe we should go back to Pepper where you and your partner actually have a chance. And yes. That is a challenge.
This wasn't my first trip to Chicago. My first trip was when I was nine or so and we were out there for the summer for my dad's work. I remember thinking it was fun but I suppose I really only took away three things from Chicago:
1. The McDonalds served pizza
2. There was always someone dressed as a giant bag of popcorn handing out free little bags of popcorn at the park
3. A memorization of all Raffi songs since that was all we ever listened to in the car due to the fact that we carpooled most places with a family that had a 4 year old kid. I hated that stupid tape.
So on this, my second trip to Chicago, I wasn't sure what to expect. I mean, maybe the McDonalds with pizza would still be around, but I had no real hope of getting free popcorn in the park and I figured no cabbies would be playing Raffi in their vehicles. So what else would Chicago offer me? Turns out, plenty.
1. I randomly played softball with a city league team that was short a player. Yes I was wearing jeans, my slip-on Vans (read: no traction) and five layers of shirts, sweatshirts and jackets (that is not an exaggeration). No I wasn't any good. Yes the game ended early when they had to enact the mercy rule.
2. I rode the train and felt smug about it. It's odd what makes me feel like an adult.
3. The air around my hotel smelled like chocolate. It was fabulous. Everyone should get to live near a chocolate factory. Especially me.
4. I ate real Chicago deep dish pizza from Giordano's. Thank you Master Wentworth, you were right, it was amazing.
5. I got to see one of my favoritest friends and catch up and eat cookies and see her home and family and watch her adorable daughter walk around all night with only one red cowboy boot on.
6. I dominated at Nertz. But....that's not unique to my being in Chicago. heh heh heh
Alright enough with the list. Really Chicago was awesome. I think it may be my new favorite big city. It was so clean and pretty. Though, at the time, freezing. Still, I forgive Chicago its harsh weather given that it is November and I am somewhat spoiled by the warm weather in the particular area I live.
Anyway. Even though I didn't see Obama or Oprah I still loved my Chicago trip. And I fully intend to go back again sometime when I don't have to spend my days in the underground of a hotel sitting in seminars and classes and whatnot.
So! Linz be prepared for me to take you up on that guest room offer, and I fully expect we'll have time to find that gourmet popcorn next time (I have good memories of Chicago and popcorn). And to my softball teammate, have the pizza and cards ready. Maybe we should go back to Pepper where you and your partner actually have a chance. And yes. That is a challenge.
Saturday, October 25, 2008
Sigh.
I cannot wait for November 4th to come and go. How about everyone just vote yes on Prop 8 and we call it a day?
Sunday, October 5, 2008
Good Morning Baltimore!
I got into Baltimore very very early this morning. So early that I think most people would consider it "last night" but whatever. It was morning. The plane ride was fine - despite the fact that I'm pretty sure the seat I was in was as old as aviation itself (it kind of rocked like it wasn't completely bolted to the plane and was so threadbare that I'm fairly certain I was just sitting on a wooden plank with a piece of old blue cloth on top) and I got a whiff of the man next to me every time he moved and the smell was unpleasant. Overall though...not a terrible trip.
Riding the shuttle from the airport to my hotel was interesting. My coworkers had warned me that I was in a high-crime area of Baltimore (why not, what better place to hold a legal conference, right?) but I didn't see any crime last night. Sure I was only in the van for less than 10 minutes once we got into the city and we had to stop seven, yes seven, different times to let cops or firemen or ambulances pass with their sirens wailing, but still. I didn't personally witness any crimes.
Admittedly it would be hard to see any crimes from my middle seat in the van squished between an older woman whose eyebrows moved up and down with every word she spoke and a twitchy guy who seemed annoyed that anyone else even got in the shuttle he was in, but I still thought "high crime area? Hm. I'll probably see something." But no. Saw nothing. Except a couple different random make-out sessions of middle aged folks on the street. What the-?
Oh shuttle rides. How I love thee. Let me count the reasons.
1. The driver who I'm convinced was taught that when you drive you have to push the pedal all the way to the floor. All the time. Whichever pedal you're pushing.
2. I was the last one in the van (well...for a time) and when I got to the door and looked in the two back rows were full and there was just the front row with one guy sitting closest to the exit with his bag protectively saving the last open seat next to him. I stood there for a minute debating whether I should ask the second row of women to scoot over thinking "there has to be room for all of us on here, right?" and asking the guy if there was a reason he hadn't moved all the way in on the seat to make room for any other passengers (hello inconsiderate) when finally I opened my mouth to say "hey man, is someone sitting there?" (while pointing past him) and he looked at me and said "oh, do you want to sit here?" Um yes. I do. What tipped you off? My confused standing here like "how are there no more seats?"
3. Right before we left a shuttle worker came up and asked if the driver could take one more. He said sure. I thought "oh, I guess that person will sit in the front passenger seat." Turns out that one more was two more people. A bigger guy who sat in the passenger seat and an older woman who sat next to me (on the shortest bench mind you) which forced the guy who didn't want to share the bench in the first place to remove his computer bag barrier and get used to the fact that our legs may end up touching.
4. Once the older lady was in she looked at me and then put on her rain jacket and pulled the hood down over her head holding it tight like she was afraid I might touch her and infest her with something. I was tempted to put my arm around her shoulder but in the end decided to pretend I didn't notice what she was doing.
5. Once we let the guy next to me off the shuttle I was climbing back in when the older woman asked me if I didn't mind if her husband sat next to her. Hm. It's not a totally out there request really but it was kind of odd. I mean, why are we playing musical chairs more than we have to? This is ridiculous. You really don't want to sit by me that much, eh?
6. Switching seats with husband meant I was in the front passenger seat. With our crazy driver the term "death seat" never seemed so apt. ...I think it was while I was in this seat that I saw the public canoodlers.
What a morning! I expect it will only get better from here. Can't wait.
Riding the shuttle from the airport to my hotel was interesting. My coworkers had warned me that I was in a high-crime area of Baltimore (why not, what better place to hold a legal conference, right?) but I didn't see any crime last night. Sure I was only in the van for less than 10 minutes once we got into the city and we had to stop seven, yes seven, different times to let cops or firemen or ambulances pass with their sirens wailing, but still. I didn't personally witness any crimes.
Admittedly it would be hard to see any crimes from my middle seat in the van squished between an older woman whose eyebrows moved up and down with every word she spoke and a twitchy guy who seemed annoyed that anyone else even got in the shuttle he was in, but I still thought "high crime area? Hm. I'll probably see something." But no. Saw nothing. Except a couple different random make-out sessions of middle aged folks on the street. What the-?
Oh shuttle rides. How I love thee. Let me count the reasons.
1. The driver who I'm convinced was taught that when you drive you have to push the pedal all the way to the floor. All the time. Whichever pedal you're pushing.
2. I was the last one in the van (well...for a time) and when I got to the door and looked in the two back rows were full and there was just the front row with one guy sitting closest to the exit with his bag protectively saving the last open seat next to him. I stood there for a minute debating whether I should ask the second row of women to scoot over thinking "there has to be room for all of us on here, right?" and asking the guy if there was a reason he hadn't moved all the way in on the seat to make room for any other passengers (hello inconsiderate) when finally I opened my mouth to say "hey man, is someone sitting there?" (while pointing past him) and he looked at me and said "oh, do you want to sit here?" Um yes. I do. What tipped you off? My confused standing here like "how are there no more seats?"
3. Right before we left a shuttle worker came up and asked if the driver could take one more. He said sure. I thought "oh, I guess that person will sit in the front passenger seat." Turns out that one more was two more people. A bigger guy who sat in the passenger seat and an older woman who sat next to me (on the shortest bench mind you) which forced the guy who didn't want to share the bench in the first place to remove his computer bag barrier and get used to the fact that our legs may end up touching.
4. Once the older lady was in she looked at me and then put on her rain jacket and pulled the hood down over her head holding it tight like she was afraid I might touch her and infest her with something. I was tempted to put my arm around her shoulder but in the end decided to pretend I didn't notice what she was doing.
5. Once we let the guy next to me off the shuttle I was climbing back in when the older woman asked me if I didn't mind if her husband sat next to her. Hm. It's not a totally out there request really but it was kind of odd. I mean, why are we playing musical chairs more than we have to? This is ridiculous. You really don't want to sit by me that much, eh?
6. Switching seats with husband meant I was in the front passenger seat. With our crazy driver the term "death seat" never seemed so apt. ...I think it was while I was in this seat that I saw the public canoodlers.
What a morning! I expect it will only get better from here. Can't wait.
Saturday, August 16, 2008
Saturday is a special day
It's the day we get ready for Sunday.
Saturday is cleaning day. I had no appreciation for cleaning day as a child as it seemed strikingly similar to school days only with more physical labor and less recess, but now, as an adult (of sorts) I can appreciate cleaning day. I can appreciate why my mother would feel embarrassed if people came over and the house wasn't clean. That doesn't mean I like cleaning day any more than I ever did. I don't really. Cleaning is pretty low on the list of things I want to do on my day off from work. But having a clean apartment is pretty high on the list of things I want. It's hard to reconcile those two.
So I spent this morning brainstorming on how to get a clean apartment without doing any of the cleaning myself. I drew a couple diagrams and mapped out pros and cons of different options, but in the end it became clear to me that the most cost efficient thing to do was for me to just clean my place up myself. Naturally, having reached that conclusion, I threw the diagrams on the ground and decided I would attend to them later.
Now I'm at stage two of cleaning day (stage one having been the dedicated brainstorming session for alternative cleaning methods). Stage two is mental preparation. Now that I know how the day is going to go I have to get in the zone to do it. So far my mental preparation has involved shuffling some papers on my desk to make room for my computer, checking me email, deleting old texts, and deciding what background noise I want as I clean. Movie? Or music? Toughie.
Stage three is the actual cleaning. I'm not quite there yet. I'm still in the midst of stage two. Which, now that I think about it, is just avoidance. And kind of acceptance. ....Wait....What are the stages of grief again? I feel like this is all sounding kind of familiar.....
Whatever, I'm too lazy to look it up. But I know the avoidance is serious when I consider going on a run first.
Sigh. Time to clean.
Saturday is cleaning day. I had no appreciation for cleaning day as a child as it seemed strikingly similar to school days only with more physical labor and less recess, but now, as an adult (of sorts) I can appreciate cleaning day. I can appreciate why my mother would feel embarrassed if people came over and the house wasn't clean. That doesn't mean I like cleaning day any more than I ever did. I don't really. Cleaning is pretty low on the list of things I want to do on my day off from work. But having a clean apartment is pretty high on the list of things I want. It's hard to reconcile those two.
So I spent this morning brainstorming on how to get a clean apartment without doing any of the cleaning myself. I drew a couple diagrams and mapped out pros and cons of different options, but in the end it became clear to me that the most cost efficient thing to do was for me to just clean my place up myself. Naturally, having reached that conclusion, I threw the diagrams on the ground and decided I would attend to them later.
Now I'm at stage two of cleaning day (stage one having been the dedicated brainstorming session for alternative cleaning methods). Stage two is mental preparation. Now that I know how the day is going to go I have to get in the zone to do it. So far my mental preparation has involved shuffling some papers on my desk to make room for my computer, checking me email, deleting old texts, and deciding what background noise I want as I clean. Movie? Or music? Toughie.
Stage three is the actual cleaning. I'm not quite there yet. I'm still in the midst of stage two. Which, now that I think about it, is just avoidance. And kind of acceptance. ....Wait....What are the stages of grief again? I feel like this is all sounding kind of familiar.....
Whatever, I'm too lazy to look it up. But I know the avoidance is serious when I consider going on a run first.
Sigh. Time to clean.
Saturday, August 9, 2008
Blog worthy
I feel like something has to happen for me to blog about it. But nothing's been happening. At least, nothing that seems blog-worthy. And then I realized that I give this blog too much credit. Nothing actually has to happen. People just want something new to read.
I think my newfound desire to actually have something to blog about stems from the fact that I recently told people I had a blog. And by "people" I mean my family. And a couple choice friends. But now I feel like when they read my blog it will be because they'll want to know what I'm up to (because personal emails and phone calls can't convey that info? I don't know why I think THIS is the forum to give everyone the 411. Maybe it's because I read the blogs of married friends and young mothers who can use this as a convenient way to tell everyone about the kiddos). Anyway lately I've been up to nothing. But instead of hiding this nothingness behind the guise of I'm-too-busy-to-blog-and-that's-why-there's-no-new-entries-here, I'm just going to lay it all out there. I'm just going to proudly proclaim: I've been doing nothing! Except, of course, the following:
I eat cookies. Often whilst sitting on the love sac. 
I watch people playing video games.
Annnnnnd that pretty much wraps up all the pictures I have for 2008. Alright I admit it. I just wanted to be able to put pictures in this entry. But apparently I only have two pictures of my life here on Christmas Island. Odd.
Thankfully in the time I've been sitting here I have thought of two items worth mentioning.
Item #1. I've been meaning to cut my hair for, oh three or four months now. It has gotten really, really long. The kind of long where people look at your hair and say "wow! It's so....long!" But not in the "aw, it's pretty!" way. In the "that's sick" way. Unfortunately my hair stylist and I just haven't managed to get together to take care of the situation. I know she only styles part-time (or less....I'm fairly certain I'm her only client) so it's hard to find a moment when she's available and holding a pair of scissors and when I'm available and my hair is fresh and clean. It's complicated trying to coordinate so many events.
Anyway just yesterday I showered and was on my way to work at around 6am when my stylist (and roommate) woke from her slumber and asked "want me to cut your hair now?" In retrospect the fact that her eyes were only half-open should have been a warning sign to me. But since I'd been trying to cut these unruly locks for so long it just seemed like I should jump on the opportunity to get things taken care of. Who knew when she would next be available? I'd already waited so long! So I said "sure, yeah, that'd be great." She found scissors, I found a chair and sat down to be groomed. She asked how short and I said "I don't know, just take off the raggedy ends." I could feel the snip snip closer to my ears
Item #2. Someone has a birthday coming up. A quarter century birthday. Time to do something fun. Memorable fun. I'm open to suggestions, but I'm dubious about anyone being able to come up with an activity to top last year's festivities and celebration (see the picture of the raucous party below). I mean seriously. Does it get better than this?
Friday, August 1, 2008
Vacay!
Dear readers. Excuse me, "reader." I am sure you have felt my absence keenly. But do not fret. I am back and am happy to report that at least 1/4 of my MIA status was due to my being on vacation up in beautiful Big Bear. Nothing like that fresh mountain air to clear one's head. And now everyone gets to experience my vacation vicariously because I am about to tell you ALL about it.
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This kind of looks like we're playing on unfinished miniature train tracks. But really what's happening here is an intense game of horseshoes. The week was filled with horseshoe tournaments, complete with trash talk and a modified style of scoring (leaners were worth the most points as they were a rare accomplishment. Psh, ringers were easy). No one was injured in the competitions though a few times people did have to dodge flying iron. Turns out those horseshoes are kinda heavy and hard to control. Also, not that it matters, but I should mention that my team was pretty much unbeatable. Muah-ha-ha-ha-ha. We're ready to take on the real cowpokes now.
And what would a trip to the mountains be without a turn down the Alpine Slides? As you can see, some of us were not happy about being put in the beginners line, but safety first. If you've never been before then it's for your own good. Others, of course, lied about their expertise and got to go in the fast line. Don't let the yellow of the sleds decieve you. Those things were harbingers of death. Luckily none of us were booed by the crowd (that does happen if you go too slowly down the fast slide) and no one flipped over (which, according to the worker guy, is a daily occurrence). So win-win!
The trip is probably best told through pictures. They being worth a thousand words and all that. But of course I didn't bring a camera. Nor did my trusty roommate. So I did what any savvy internet user would do. I swiped a few choice pics off of friends' facebook albums. Thanks facebook.
Okay actually this picture is not worth that many words because it is deceptive. You can't tell, but we are perched on top of these precariously placed rocks atop a huge mountain. Or at least a hill. Anyway I was scared for my life as I sat there. And here it is on film looking like we're just hanging out on the ground by some trees. We almost look bored. How can I show off how adventurous I am when people climb higher than me and then take pictures looking down?
This kind of looks like we're playing on unfinished miniature train tracks. But really what's happening here is an intense game of horseshoes. The week was filled with horseshoe tournaments, complete with trash talk and a modified style of scoring (leaners were worth the most points as they were a rare accomplishment. Psh, ringers were easy). No one was injured in the competitions though a few times people did have to dodge flying iron. Turns out those horseshoes are kinda heavy and hard to control. Also, not that it matters, but I should mention that my team was pretty much unbeatable. Muah-ha-ha-ha-ha. We're ready to take on the real cowpokes now. 
Here we are on our very own pontoon boat doing what any good crew would do: nothing. Well. Most of us did nothing. As you can see from the picture at least our driver was alert at the helm. Also the fact that I called him a "driver" betrays the fact that I know nothing about boating. ....Driver because he drives the boat? Eh?.... Even as they were renting us the boat I thought "Really? You're just going to let us take it and we're in charge? You're not sending one of your worker people with us?" But then I remember that the important thing in our rental situation was that I would never be in charge of the boat.
Anyway, the lake was great, we had swimming competitions, fed ducks, played cards and ate lots of sandwiches. And, of course, after lunch we chased down a pirate ship. But the pirate ship pretty much ignored us. Pirates are mean.
We also attended the Annual Miners Days Log Jammer Jubilee. We were very excited at the prospect of throwing axes and rolling on logs. But turns out it's not exactly like that. Yes, you could be a participant if you wanted, but it would cost you a pretty penny (although you did get to keep a chic orange "contestant" t-shirt) and you would be competing against real mountain men with long white beards and pony tails who came out of their isolation solely to compete in the tomahawk throw. So, what I'm saying is: a) you wouldn't stand a chance of winning anything or even looking respectable and b) when you put the mountain men in charge of running the events (as was the case) things move really slowly. Which means you probably will only get to see axe throwing before you decide maybe you should've gone to the Bluegrass Bluejeans festival instead. Although we didn't get to see all the competition we'd hoped to, we did get a feel for what it would be like to live in a place where everyone knows who you are and gives you nicknames like "peanut" and when you want to go to the annual log jammer jubilee and sell trinkets you made out of bark you just pack up and put the trailer in drive.
And what would a trip to the mountains be without a turn down the Alpine Slides? As you can see, some of us were not happy about being put in the beginners line, but safety first. If you've never been before then it's for your own good. Others, of course, lied about their expertise and got to go in the fast line. Don't let the yellow of the sleds decieve you. Those things were harbingers of death. Luckily none of us were booed by the crowd (that does happen if you go too slowly down the fast slide) and no one flipped over (which, according to the worker guy, is a daily occurrence). So win-win! Ah Big Bear. Of course pictures can't portray everything. For example, the theater we watched The Dark knight in was, hands down, the worst smelling theater I have ever been in. Oh funny small towns. No but seriously that place was gross. It was like being in a nasty stale locker room that a tired-after-practice football team had just vacated. Sadly, I did get used to the smell. After the first hour.
We also failed to capture on film (and by "we" I mean the people from whom I "borrowed" the included pictures) the under-water breath-holding competitions in the kiddie pool. Yes we are aware that the little kids use that pool as a conveniently close restroom. But that only adds to the accomplishment of winning this particular feat of strength. In the end it was decided that since no one could even come close to the time posted by our 2nd Lt. friend, that it was only fair that we do a relay type race against him. Four of us would hold our breath one by one and he would hold his breath the whole time. And yes, he almost won.
All in all Big Bear was good to us. Nice suites, good company, good food, and of course friendly games of Pepper and Loaded Questions. Who could ask for more?
Wednesday, July 9, 2008
Sicky (cough, cough)
Today I woke up and thought two things (two things I'll share here - but just be aware that I had more thoughts than this in general this morning). Thing number one: I don't feel so hot. Thing number two: do I feel not-hot enough to stay home?
In the end I decided, yes, I felt ill enough that I would call in sick and spend the day mostly in bed, ocassionally on the couch, and once in awhile trekking outside to release a wayward spider or accompany my roommate on her errand(s). And while I don't really feel like I'm cheating the system or anything (this being my first sick day...this year) perhaps, maybe, I do feel like I'm cheating the system. Because as I sit here slightly nauseated* I wonder if I'm only supposed to call in sick when I'm on my death bed. Or super contagious. I might be contagious right now. But....probably not? I don't know. Anyway it turns out taking the day off to "get well" is a mentally trying time for me. This morning I felt pretty bad. And last night I kept waking myself up with annoying coughing so I didn't sleep so well. But now, 5 more hours of sleep later, I feel decent. Not like I want to go sit at my desk at work and pound out a few attorney letters or field various licensure issues, but I don't usually want to do that even when I feel 100%. (That is no reflection on my stellar job - only on my desire ultimately to live a life of leisure and get paid for it). So really. How sick do you have to be to take a sick day? I fear you have to be sicker than I am. Which thing I am realizing as the day wears on and I am feeling increasingly better. Whatever. I'm sorry work.
Really calling in to work and passing on the word "I'm not coming" is the best part. And by "best" I mean "worst." Because you feel like you have to sound sick otherwise the person on the other end of the call is going to make a note of your absence but really tell everyone in the office "sounded fine to me. I bet she's just going sailing. It's supposed to be lovely out. Too bad she's a liar, huh?" and the people would nod their heads in agreement and someone would say "I always knew she was. Lawyer....liar....they're all the same." And then everyone would mumble agreeance and decide to go to Coco's for lunch. That's how those things happen. Decisions to eat at Coco's I mean.
Anyway when I called in this morning I avoided any attempt to sound sick or miserable. There's nothing wrong with my voice. I don't have a head cold (despite the coughing last night - not sure what that was all about). My voice is largely unaffected by my aching head and nausea. And while I'm sure the receptionist I talked to wanted to hear more evidence of my misery, I was unwilling to try to convince her with a quavering voice or weak little whisper of "I'm not coming. (sniff)....Don't worry about me.....I'll be fine....just....(pause to catch breath)....tell everyone.....I'm sorry about everything.....and.....I love them."
But was that a mistake? Should I have sounded really ill? Because now I'm paranoid that I won't have enough evidence of lingering sickness tomorrow for people to believe me. But seriously. I was sick. Sick of work! heh heh, just kidding, not sick of work. I love work! Work is the BEST.
Anyway now I'm totally just rambling. But if I have to suffer an entire day (day OFF at that!) of second guessing my health with "am I really that sick? Could I have gone into work today?" then so do you. That's the beauty of blogs. We're all in this together. ....And by "all" I mean me and the two people I know are aware of the existence of this blog. Thanks guys. Your kindness has healed me.
*Traditional critics have insisted that nauseous is properly used only to mean "causing nausea" and that it is incorrect to use it to mean "affected with nausea," as in Roller coasters make me nauseous. In this example, nauseated is preferred by 72 percent of the Usage Panel of the American Heritage Dictionary.
In the end I decided, yes, I felt ill enough that I would call in sick and spend the day mostly in bed, ocassionally on the couch, and once in awhile trekking outside to release a wayward spider or accompany my roommate on her errand(s). And while I don't really feel like I'm cheating the system or anything (this being my first sick day...this year) perhaps, maybe, I do feel like I'm cheating the system. Because as I sit here slightly nauseated* I wonder if I'm only supposed to call in sick when I'm on my death bed. Or super contagious. I might be contagious right now. But....probably not? I don't know. Anyway it turns out taking the day off to "get well" is a mentally trying time for me. This morning I felt pretty bad. And last night I kept waking myself up with annoying coughing so I didn't sleep so well. But now, 5 more hours of sleep later, I feel decent. Not like I want to go sit at my desk at work and pound out a few attorney letters or field various licensure issues, but I don't usually want to do that even when I feel 100%. (That is no reflection on my stellar job - only on my desire ultimately to live a life of leisure and get paid for it). So really. How sick do you have to be to take a sick day? I fear you have to be sicker than I am. Which thing I am realizing as the day wears on and I am feeling increasingly better. Whatever. I'm sorry work.
Really calling in to work and passing on the word "I'm not coming" is the best part. And by "best" I mean "worst." Because you feel like you have to sound sick otherwise the person on the other end of the call is going to make a note of your absence but really tell everyone in the office "sounded fine to me. I bet she's just going sailing. It's supposed to be lovely out. Too bad she's a liar, huh?" and the people would nod their heads in agreement and someone would say "I always knew she was. Lawyer....liar....they're all the same." And then everyone would mumble agreeance and decide to go to Coco's for lunch. That's how those things happen. Decisions to eat at Coco's I mean.
Anyway when I called in this morning I avoided any attempt to sound sick or miserable. There's nothing wrong with my voice. I don't have a head cold (despite the coughing last night - not sure what that was all about). My voice is largely unaffected by my aching head and nausea. And while I'm sure the receptionist I talked to wanted to hear more evidence of my misery, I was unwilling to try to convince her with a quavering voice or weak little whisper of "I'm not coming. (sniff)....Don't worry about me.....I'll be fine....just....(pause to catch breath)....tell everyone.....I'm sorry about everything.....and.....I love them."
But was that a mistake? Should I have sounded really ill? Because now I'm paranoid that I won't have enough evidence of lingering sickness tomorrow for people to believe me. But seriously. I was sick. Sick of work! heh heh, just kidding, not sick of work. I love work! Work is the BEST.
Anyway now I'm totally just rambling. But if I have to suffer an entire day (day OFF at that!) of second guessing my health with "am I really that sick? Could I have gone into work today?" then so do you. That's the beauty of blogs. We're all in this together. ....And by "all" I mean me and the two people I know are aware of the existence of this blog. Thanks guys. Your kindness has healed me.
*Traditional critics have insisted that nauseous is properly used only to mean "causing nausea" and that it is incorrect to use it to mean "affected with nausea," as in Roller coasters make me nauseous. In this example, nauseated is preferred by 72 percent of the Usage Panel of the American Heritage Dictionary.
Saturday, June 21, 2008
The Dog Ate My Memo(s)
One of the best things, to me, about being out of school is having no homework. As soon as I leave the office it's like a mini vacation. I run out of the front doors flinging papers as I go and laughing maniacally at my new found freedom. Guitar Hero here I come. Just kidding guitar hero is so last summer. Now it's all about Rock Band. Which, maybe by next summer when THAT'S old news I'll own it too. Anyway whatever. When I get home the night is mine. And I love it. I mean, that's a good three hours to do what I want with. And "what I want" usually consists of considering and then rejecting the idea of cleaning, making healthy food to eat, and/or exercising all whilst I sit in the love sac watching Top Chef or SYTYCD. My nights are grand. And the weekends are even better because now I have time for some sort of made for TV Lifetime movie or a chance to catch up on an entire season of America's Next Top Model. I just think it's a good idea to keep my finger on the pulse of the modeling world. In case I ever want to get into it. I like to have a back-up plan in case the whole law thing doesn't work out.
But I digress. Which, actually, is kind of the point of why I'm sitting here. Procrastinating. Because this weekend - the first since finally graduating from school over a year ago- I have had to take my work home with me. Yes. I have homework. Boo. And, true to form, I am seizing upon any and all opportunities to put off my work and prolong the fun. Hey it worked for 20 or so years, I don't see why I should change now. And by "worked" I mean I graduated so lay off. Of course, all the "fun" of the weekend is slightly tainted by the looming memos I have to write but, hey. If I can get one more nap in before Monday rolls around I'm going to do it. Plus lets be honest. It is over 100 degrees outside. Which is a clear sign that it's too hot to do any work and everyone ought to just meet up at the beach. My place is a ten minute walk away, lets go. ....But someone is going to have to carry me because it's too hot to walk.
But I digress. Which, actually, is kind of the point of why I'm sitting here. Procrastinating. Because this weekend - the first since finally graduating from school over a year ago- I have had to take my work home with me. Yes. I have homework. Boo. And, true to form, I am seizing upon any and all opportunities to put off my work and prolong the fun. Hey it worked for 20 or so years, I don't see why I should change now. And by "worked" I mean I graduated so lay off. Of course, all the "fun" of the weekend is slightly tainted by the looming memos I have to write but, hey. If I can get one more nap in before Monday rolls around I'm going to do it. Plus lets be honest. It is over 100 degrees outside. Which is a clear sign that it's too hot to do any work and everyone ought to just meet up at the beach. My place is a ten minute walk away, lets go. ....But someone is going to have to carry me because it's too hot to walk.
Wednesday, June 18, 2008
Happy Birthday Gumball
I went to Magic Mountain last weekend. To celebrate my friend's 28th year of life. Because where else do you want to go when you turn 28? Disneyland? Well....Maybe. But Disneyland doesn't have that thrill that Magic Mountain does of possibly getting into a gang fight. Nor does Disneyland have a ride that shoots flames past you in 90 degree weather. So, yah. .....I think I make my point.
It was a good day and there were definite highlights: the birthday boy standing in front of one of those mist-making things cooling off his face, and realizing a little too late that there was also a mist nozzle aimed right at his pants creating a distinct "I had an accident" look; the various poses of high-fives for our rollercoaster pictures; and, of course, the delicious fast food which only tastes that good when you pay $20 for it. I mean....right? You will savor each one of those nacho chips.
But possibly the best (or at least most memorable) moment of the day didn't happen at the park itself. It happened at the birthday dinner. At IHOP. Ah, IHOP. Nothing tops off a day at Magic Mountain like a trip to the International House of Pancakes. You sit down after walking around all day in the sun and are presented with pancake options from around the world! It is amazing.
Dinner (or breakfast?) was good, and we enjoyed our meal there, but it turns out we are evil and inconsiderate group patrons and we didn't even know it. Well, now we know it. We should've realized that IHOP does not hire mind-readers. Because at the end of the night when it came to splitting the check we, as IHOP novices I guess, were under the impression that we could take the check to the cashier (I mean c'mon, you take your check to a cashier) and each just tell him we wanted to pay for whatever it was that we ordered. Split it right there. Badda bing badda boom. But it's not like that. Or so our old comrade informed us when we attempted said splitting technique and he asked us with that look of "I hate you and the fact that you are in my IHOP" if we asked our waitress for separate checks and if we were then aware that our waitress wasn't a mind-reader. Which, to be honest, with his thick accent I was just impressed he knew the english words "mind-reader." We said no, we didn't ask for separate checks, apologized and then watched as he went through the arduous 3 minute process of dividing our totals in his little computer.
At the end of it all - right at the moment we're all looking for the toothpick dispenser and heading out the door - one of our number says "thanks for doing that" to the unhappy Sergey, and he responded: "I hope you learned your lesson." And he meant it. But it didn't end there (although it kind of did because we stopped listening). He continued to lecture us (yes, actually lecture like you would an errant child) that when you have a group come into a restaurant (ah-ha! So he hasn't mastered english quite yet. Or else he's using the term "restaurant" very loosely) after 4pm you can't expect the restaurant to just know that you will be paying separately, you have to let them know, blah blah blah. He was still talking as we walked out the door. Which was probably rude on our part to walk out on him but c'mon. We get it. You made it abundantly clear to us that you thought we were idiots already. And we apologized and thanked you for your trouble. You're still going to continue angrily lecturing us? ....yah.....we're gonna go. And by the way you need to refill your toothpick dispenser because it is empty. And that's just bad customer service.
I took away two things from our IHOP experience. Number one: before 4pm the waitresses at IHOP are mind readers. And number two: the strawberry banana pancakes there are delicious.
So really....win win. What a great day!
It was a good day and there were definite highlights: the birthday boy standing in front of one of those mist-making things cooling off his face, and realizing a little too late that there was also a mist nozzle aimed right at his pants creating a distinct "I had an accident" look; the various poses of high-fives for our rollercoaster pictures; and, of course, the delicious fast food which only tastes that good when you pay $20 for it. I mean....right? You will savor each one of those nacho chips.
But possibly the best (or at least most memorable) moment of the day didn't happen at the park itself. It happened at the birthday dinner. At IHOP. Ah, IHOP. Nothing tops off a day at Magic Mountain like a trip to the International House of Pancakes. You sit down after walking around all day in the sun and are presented with pancake options from around the world! It is amazing.
Dinner (or breakfast?) was good, and we enjoyed our meal there, but it turns out we are evil and inconsiderate group patrons and we didn't even know it. Well, now we know it. We should've realized that IHOP does not hire mind-readers. Because at the end of the night when it came to splitting the check we, as IHOP novices I guess, were under the impression that we could take the check to the cashier (I mean c'mon, you take your check to a cashier) and each just tell him we wanted to pay for whatever it was that we ordered. Split it right there. Badda bing badda boom. But it's not like that. Or so our old comrade informed us when we attempted said splitting technique and he asked us with that look of "I hate you and the fact that you are in my IHOP" if we asked our waitress for separate checks and if we were then aware that our waitress wasn't a mind-reader. Which, to be honest, with his thick accent I was just impressed he knew the english words "mind-reader." We said no, we didn't ask for separate checks, apologized and then watched as he went through the arduous 3 minute process of dividing our totals in his little computer.
At the end of it all - right at the moment we're all looking for the toothpick dispenser and heading out the door - one of our number says "thanks for doing that" to the unhappy Sergey, and he responded: "I hope you learned your lesson." And he meant it. But it didn't end there (although it kind of did because we stopped listening). He continued to lecture us (yes, actually lecture like you would an errant child) that when you have a group come into a restaurant (ah-ha! So he hasn't mastered english quite yet. Or else he's using the term "restaurant" very loosely) after 4pm you can't expect the restaurant to just know that you will be paying separately, you have to let them know, blah blah blah. He was still talking as we walked out the door. Which was probably rude on our part to walk out on him but c'mon. We get it. You made it abundantly clear to us that you thought we were idiots already. And we apologized and thanked you for your trouble. You're still going to continue angrily lecturing us? ....yah.....we're gonna go. And by the way you need to refill your toothpick dispenser because it is empty. And that's just bad customer service.
I took away two things from our IHOP experience. Number one: before 4pm the waitresses at IHOP are mind readers. And number two: the strawberry banana pancakes there are delicious.
So really....win win. What a great day!
Wednesday, June 4, 2008
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