It is a statistical inevitability that when you are experiencing famine-degree hunger (when your stomach is so empty, the sloshing of your digestive juices echoes), you stuff yourself voraciously when the food finally arrives. In anticipation of a conference call, The Powers That Be generously offered to cover lunch. At the point when over-the-cubicle-wall banter about what may possibly have happened to the delivery man to cause such a horrid delay was reaching deafening levels and everyone was staring at their hands, contemplating which finger to gnaw on to stave off death, the pizza finally arrived. We all descended on the pies like wolves at a hunt and proceeded to stuff our faces silly. The kind of lightning-fast food shovel where in under thirty seconds you've managed to eat two whole slices with a combined topping count of 87 and total calorie count of "don't even bother, you can't process it all." Inevitably, you end up with a bowling ball of cheese and grease that sits in your belly like old police informants would sit in the East River after being given a pair of concrete shoes by their mob relatives. The result is almost as painful as the bone-jarring hunger and is infinitely more difficult to rid yourself of.
This is the curse of the Free-Pizza Friday.
Friday, August 04, 2006
Wednesday, August 02, 2006
Le Salle de Bain
So, the interesting thing about public bathrooms that you frequent is that you always end up with a favorite stall. At work, I absolutely have one. The toilet is not too high (which mercifully means that your feet don't dangle as they do in the middle stall) nor too low (which always makes you feel like the early growth spurt kid in the pre-K class who has to move the step-stool to the side--not that I was ever that kid, just heard stories). I've gotten used to the wider-than normal gap between the door and the frame and have discovered its usefulness for determining the identity of those who walk in after me--it's always supremely important to know who else is in the bathroom with you. I've used MY stall about 99% of the time, and those who know me KNOW that that must add up to a considerable number of uses--clearly I have gotten comfortable with the familiar.
As such, it's always so jarring to walk into the loo and find MY stall occupied by someone else. It's all I can do to not stand paralyzed with consternation in front of the stall door--which, in light of the aforementioned gap between door and frame, would be extremely rude bordering on the voyeuristic. Then I am forced to use one of the other stalls where the toilets are unnecessarily high and feel far less comfortable than my usual one. I hate being in the middle, it's like having surround-sound of people peeing which is never good and intrudes too much upon the mystery I like to maintain between me, my co-workers and those other people on the other side of the floor. The handicapped stall is entirely too big--I keep expecting an echo of every sound I make: ripping toilet paper reverberating off the tile walls, the flush creating such sonic vibrtions that I'm litterally jarred out of the stall. Besides, nobody wants to be the dunce that keeps the handicapped person waiting when they have to urinate. They have enough hardships as it is, don't need to add worrying about pants-wetting to the mix.
I've even considered adding homey decorations to my stall--why not? The middle one has an old no smoking sign in it (ironically the paper is all brown suggesting that bathroom visitors have not been heeding it's declaration). I say my stall deserves at least a reminder to flush and wipe the seat.
Speaking of, I cannot fathom why it happens--with alarming frequency--that you walk into a public stall to find pee all over the seat. First off, the toilet hole is quite large, HOW DO YOU MISS? Second, on the offchance that there is some alcohol, cannibis or other behavior-impairing substance in your system, and you do end up dribbling on the seat, have the good sense to wipe it off! You have to turn around and face the toilet to flush anyway, clearly you must see whatever residue you have left behind. Who on this earth looks at the toilet seat, sees evidence of their recent bathroom activities and decides to leave it there as a special gift for the stall's next occupant? My favorite is when they know there's a line and that they will inevitably come face to face with said next occupant as they leave the stall. Every woman knows that proper busy-bathroom ettiquette includes swiftly moving toward the stall that is soon to be vacated--as soon as you see the door start to swing open, you make a bee-line for it--getting in faster means getting out faster which means the next poor victim of male-bathroom architects will be able to relieve herself all the more swiftly. But this ineveitably results in brushing by the former stall occupant. Those women who look you in the eye as they exit, despite knowing they have left a puddle on the seat for YOU to clean up, are just sick, twisted and more than a little vindictive. Honestly, if there's a BETTER reason for washing your hands at the end of your loo experience, I have yet to find it.
Toilet-Seat Pee-ers, beware. Next time I walk into a stall to find it more than a little damp I am going to turn right around and hunt down the offending woman--no matter how badly I need to make use of the necessary myself.
As such, it's always so jarring to walk into the loo and find MY stall occupied by someone else. It's all I can do to not stand paralyzed with consternation in front of the stall door--which, in light of the aforementioned gap between door and frame, would be extremely rude bordering on the voyeuristic. Then I am forced to use one of the other stalls where the toilets are unnecessarily high and feel far less comfortable than my usual one. I hate being in the middle, it's like having surround-sound of people peeing which is never good and intrudes too much upon the mystery I like to maintain between me, my co-workers and those other people on the other side of the floor. The handicapped stall is entirely too big--I keep expecting an echo of every sound I make: ripping toilet paper reverberating off the tile walls, the flush creating such sonic vibrtions that I'm litterally jarred out of the stall. Besides, nobody wants to be the dunce that keeps the handicapped person waiting when they have to urinate. They have enough hardships as it is, don't need to add worrying about pants-wetting to the mix.
I've even considered adding homey decorations to my stall--why not? The middle one has an old no smoking sign in it (ironically the paper is all brown suggesting that bathroom visitors have not been heeding it's declaration). I say my stall deserves at least a reminder to flush and wipe the seat.
Speaking of, I cannot fathom why it happens--with alarming frequency--that you walk into a public stall to find pee all over the seat. First off, the toilet hole is quite large, HOW DO YOU MISS? Second, on the offchance that there is some alcohol, cannibis or other behavior-impairing substance in your system, and you do end up dribbling on the seat, have the good sense to wipe it off! You have to turn around and face the toilet to flush anyway, clearly you must see whatever residue you have left behind. Who on this earth looks at the toilet seat, sees evidence of their recent bathroom activities and decides to leave it there as a special gift for the stall's next occupant? My favorite is when they know there's a line and that they will inevitably come face to face with said next occupant as they leave the stall. Every woman knows that proper busy-bathroom ettiquette includes swiftly moving toward the stall that is soon to be vacated--as soon as you see the door start to swing open, you make a bee-line for it--getting in faster means getting out faster which means the next poor victim of male-bathroom architects will be able to relieve herself all the more swiftly. But this ineveitably results in brushing by the former stall occupant. Those women who look you in the eye as they exit, despite knowing they have left a puddle on the seat for YOU to clean up, are just sick, twisted and more than a little vindictive. Honestly, if there's a BETTER reason for washing your hands at the end of your loo experience, I have yet to find it.
Toilet-Seat Pee-ers, beware. Next time I walk into a stall to find it more than a little damp I am going to turn right around and hunt down the offending woman--no matter how badly I need to make use of the necessary myself.
The people and their dictators... how to turn oppression into uprising?
I am just apoplectic with glee at the prospect of having Tom Friedman for a professor. His columns ooze with more than erudition, more than perception, but just complete understanding and almost clairvoyance regarding world politics, economies and other socio-behavioral systems. Today's NYTimes column is about the ineffectual Bush policy toward Iran and North Korea, and why it's failing:
"Have no doubt, I think both are awful, abusive regimes that are driving their respective countries into a ditch. The Bush team is right to want them to disappear and to try to find ways to bring pressure to bear. But the Soviet Union was just as awful and abusive. Yet we engaged in “détente” with Moscow, because the thrust of U.S. policy in the Cold War was to reduce the Soviets’ ability to threaten us — through deterrence and arms control agreements — and then let the information revolution and popular disgruntlement destroy the Soviet Union from within.
What was good for the Soviet Union is good for North Korea and Iran."
I am just going to be so smart at the end of next semester. He's absolutely right in saying that change must come from within, that the people have to actually want it, and understand what they are fighting for, because then they'll be emotionally tied to the prospect of a new government. Fighting for something you are told is good for you has far weaker bonds.
I am desperately trying to write a dress code for this training manual and am failing miserably. I can be funny sometimes, but it's just not happening here, and in a dress code it's important to approach the subject with grace and humor (and not how my high school principal did it, with an authoritarian streak that Machiavelli would have felt threatened by). Ideas?
"Have no doubt, I think both are awful, abusive regimes that are driving their respective countries into a ditch. The Bush team is right to want them to disappear and to try to find ways to bring pressure to bear. But the Soviet Union was just as awful and abusive. Yet we engaged in “détente” with Moscow, because the thrust of U.S. policy in the Cold War was to reduce the Soviets’ ability to threaten us — through deterrence and arms control agreements — and then let the information revolution and popular disgruntlement destroy the Soviet Union from within.
What was good for the Soviet Union is good for North Korea and Iran."
I am just going to be so smart at the end of next semester. He's absolutely right in saying that change must come from within, that the people have to actually want it, and understand what they are fighting for, because then they'll be emotionally tied to the prospect of a new government. Fighting for something you are told is good for you has far weaker bonds.
I am desperately trying to write a dress code for this training manual and am failing miserably. I can be funny sometimes, but it's just not happening here, and in a dress code it's important to approach the subject with grace and humor (and not how my high school principal did it, with an authoritarian streak that Machiavelli would have felt threatened by). Ideas?
Monday, July 31, 2006
Frozen Airborne Pigs in the Underworld
OK, strangely enough I have this one line from the commercials for "Accepted" stuck in my head. Accepted is the new movie with the kid from "Ed" and the Mac commmercials where they make up their own university because they didn't get into any of the ones they applied to. Anyway, the point is, there is one scene where one of the kids, not the lead guy, is in a hot dog costume (clearly handing out flyers for a stand or some such) and is leaning over, with his hand about knee-level, wiggling his fingers, as he says in the BEST VOICE EVER: "Ask me about my weiner!" It's just priceless how it's in this low almost, pig-call voice, where it goes up at the end. Ah, classic! That line alone is tempting me to go see the movie. I just crack up every time.
Had a fiasco attempt at getting to workt his morning. To keep a VERY long story short, my morning commute included all of the following (and then some):
Had a fiasco attempt at getting to workt his morning. To keep a VERY long story short, my morning commute included all of the following (and then some):
1. 15 minute wait for a train that never came, forcing me to take a...
2. non-airconditioned train on the wrong line that...
3. let me out on 8th ave--miles away from the office, resulting in my...
4. being late
Not fun. It took me a half hour to cool down in an office where you usually need an ice pick to de-freeze me from my chair. Bah Humbug!
Just wrote in a recent email to Jen: "Hell is clearly freezing over, pigs are soon to fly." I like it!
Wednesday, July 26, 2006
I'm sorry, do we work?
One of my most favorite comedic lines is, and will always be, that line from friends where Phoebe is talking about Monica's hypocrisy and says "Hello, Kettle? This is Monica. You're black!" See, I'm laughing uncontrollably AS I write it. Just classic. It's almost too bad it's so famous, because it would just be so so good to use it in normal conversation.
So far today I have had an email conversation of immense proportions with both Rachel and Jen. We talked about everything from the Pawtuckett AAA team to what on earth we're going to do with ourselves post-college to growing cells and weird people who live in a totally different universe.
So weird that the summer is almost over. Have far too much to do, nothing on my list has been crossed off:
So far today I have had an email conversation of immense proportions with both Rachel and Jen. We talked about everything from the Pawtuckett AAA team to what on earth we're going to do with ourselves post-college to growing cells and weird people who live in a totally different universe.
So weird that the summer is almost over. Have far too much to do, nothing on my list has been crossed off:
- Get a tan. ---That would be a no.
- Go to the beach. ---Nope, no sand between the toes as of yet.
- Hang out in Central Park and enjoy the sunshine. ---What sunshine? What is that? All I know are flourescent lights.
- Go to a Yankee game. ---Negative, have been cheering the boys on from home.
- Start my thesis proposal. ---ha!
- Play a sport for fun. ---almost suceeded there, but Annie and I fell asleep on the couch instead. Classic.
There's much more, but I can't remember it all.
Friday, July 21, 2006
Why I Will Absolutely Be Seeing Clerks II This Weekend:
From the end of a review:
Parental Advisory: Where to start. ... This movie contains George Carlin's seven dirty words strung together in every imaginable combination, vivid talk about controversial sexual positions, vivid talk about sex with minors, racial epithets, food tampering, dozens of blasphemies, scenes with strong allusions to bestiality and a bunch of other stuff we're probably forgetting.
Parental Advisory: Where to start. ... This movie contains George Carlin's seven dirty words strung together in every imaginable combination, vivid talk about controversial sexual positions, vivid talk about sex with minors, racial epithets, food tampering, dozens of blasphemies, scenes with strong allusions to bestiality and a bunch of other stuff we're probably forgetting.
You're a Good (Wo)Man, Charlie Brown
So, today has been an interesting day.
First, I played the good samaritan and called 311 when I saw this HUGE pile of garbage that had obviously spilled out of at least two different hefty black garbage bags and was now lying on the corner of 52nd and 1st. The heap of congealed vegetables and strings of turkey meat and other indistinguishable food left-overs promised to start smelling foully soon and was taking up a good portion of the sidewalk. So I called the city and filed a report, good New Yorker that I am.
Second, on the train to work I ended up having a very amiable, almost too friendly, chat with another commuter about the heat and the week's weather. The whole time I had a Shalom Sesame song stuck in my head where the muppet characters want to talk to each other but they're embarrassed, so the guy decides to break the ice by talking about the heat: "Cain cham meod, it sure is hot!" SO cute. If you haven't seen it, come over and I'll play it for you. Adorable.
Third, I've spent almost the last hour talking to a staff assistant at the Virginia office (he and I frequently chat via instant messenger and have bonded over baseball and a dislike of the Red Sox) about the situation in Israel. It's nice to just talk it all out and hear other people's arguments, especially when they're in line with one's own views and provide other ways to make the point. It's so amazing how many angles you can take, and still come out with the same answer: terrorism has no place in the world.
Interesting to note, and absolutely pertinent given the above: Instant Messaging was invented by Israelis (along with cell phones, centrino technology, and a whole host of other important everyday things). Imagine not having that kind of innovation. I can't.
Speaking of the current crisis/ war; if you haven't yet read the Opinion page of today's New York Times, you absolutely must. I'll probably send out an email with the text included b/c they're Times Select articles, but if you don't get that email and want to read them, just ask me and I'll send it right over. Very very important to read Koeppel's and Friedman's articles.
Saw Lady in the Water last night, I really liked it. Found it to be very entertaining, and definitely deep, though the later is still percolating. It's absolutely one of those movies where you have to let it sit for a while, ruminate and relive and all that. It's different from all of his past movies, and yet retains the same style and nuances. Sam said that it is by far Shyamalan's most personal work and I would agree. Besides, any movie with Bill Irwin and Bob Balaban is an instant success with me. I'm easy to please in that way.
First, I played the good samaritan and called 311 when I saw this HUGE pile of garbage that had obviously spilled out of at least two different hefty black garbage bags and was now lying on the corner of 52nd and 1st. The heap of congealed vegetables and strings of turkey meat and other indistinguishable food left-overs promised to start smelling foully soon and was taking up a good portion of the sidewalk. So I called the city and filed a report, good New Yorker that I am.
Second, on the train to work I ended up having a very amiable, almost too friendly, chat with another commuter about the heat and the week's weather. The whole time I had a Shalom Sesame song stuck in my head where the muppet characters want to talk to each other but they're embarrassed, so the guy decides to break the ice by talking about the heat: "Cain cham meod, it sure is hot!" SO cute. If you haven't seen it, come over and I'll play it for you. Adorable.
Third, I've spent almost the last hour talking to a staff assistant at the Virginia office (he and I frequently chat via instant messenger and have bonded over baseball and a dislike of the Red Sox) about the situation in Israel. It's nice to just talk it all out and hear other people's arguments, especially when they're in line with one's own views and provide other ways to make the point. It's so amazing how many angles you can take, and still come out with the same answer: terrorism has no place in the world.
Interesting to note, and absolutely pertinent given the above: Instant Messaging was invented by Israelis (along with cell phones, centrino technology, and a whole host of other important everyday things). Imagine not having that kind of innovation. I can't.
Speaking of the current crisis/ war; if you haven't yet read the Opinion page of today's New York Times, you absolutely must. I'll probably send out an email with the text included b/c they're Times Select articles, but if you don't get that email and want to read them, just ask me and I'll send it right over. Very very important to read Koeppel's and Friedman's articles.
Saw Lady in the Water last night, I really liked it. Found it to be very entertaining, and definitely deep, though the later is still percolating. It's absolutely one of those movies where you have to let it sit for a while, ruminate and relive and all that. It's different from all of his past movies, and yet retains the same style and nuances. Sam said that it is by far Shyamalan's most personal work and I would agree. Besides, any movie with Bill Irwin and Bob Balaban is an instant success with me. I'm easy to please in that way.
Thursday, July 20, 2006
You'll Never Walk Alone
Bill Simmons is still my New Best Friend and has solidified his position there with his most recent column chronicling his search for an English Premeir League (soccer/football) team to support. Aside from being fantastically written and accessible to sports fans with varying degrees of soccer-knowledge, it's absolutely inspiring. Throughout reading the article (which can be found on ESPN.com Page 2) I kept wondering why on earth I don't watch more soccer. The biggest reason is that we simply don't get a channel that airs soccer, so my watching would be damned near impossible. But I'm definitely thinking that more trips to Mr. Dennehy's are in order--I'm assuming that as an authentic Irish pub, they show games.
Reading Simmons' fantastic breakdown of the British teams, I have to say that I absolutely agree with him that English football has something that American sports are severely lacking for the most part: spirit. And not just "my team is awesome" assertions in everyday conversation, but real face-paint wearing, top-of-your-lungs screaming, team-song singing, bust-a-vein fan revelry. Case in point: Liverpool. I've heard before how fantastically committed and downright crazy those fans are, but watching YouTube clips of a sea of red-clad fans belting out You'll Never Walk Alone gives new appreciation to the kind of energy fans can supply. And that's just during regular season games-- the enthusiam increases many-fold when playoffs are in full swing.
While Yankee fans are certainly better than most in American sports, even we have much to learn from our British counterparts. The bleacher-creatures do an admirable job with their team salutes at the beginning of every game, and when there's 2 outs in the 9th and were just one strike away from winning the game, there is certainly an acceptable amount of noise--helped along by "Freddie Sez" Shulman and his clanging pot. However I say more energy! Next time I go to a game, I'm busting out the face paint. Obviously something to be introduced to the Stadium slowly so that it catches on like a good idea and I'm not seen as that weirdo girl with the crayon on her face. However, when at the Giants game oh-so-many years ago, painting a huge "G" on my cheek earned me a couple seconds of air-time on the Jumbo-tron and, apparantly, national television, so clearly someone out there thinks it's a good idea. Watch out, Dave Seid, I may be painting your face as well.
In other news, I'm seeing Lady In The Water tonight. The ads for it always throw me because the face in the center (the blue-tinted androgynous one) which actually belongs to Bryce Dallas Howard looks exactly like Elijah Wood. So bizzare. I read an article which, along with zinging M. Night Shyamalan (or however you spell his name) for his king-size ego, suggests that this film may be far different from his past cinematic ventures. Also notable is that he split with Disney because he was insistent on casting himself as an author who's story ends up changing the world. Hmmm, maybe there IS something to this super-inflated ego rumor.
Anyway, I really have liked his past movies (though didn't see the Village, which was widely panned) so even though I'm somewhat apprehensive about this one, it's absolutely worth seeing based on previous experience. Plus, I'm meeting my mom for dinner beforehand which means I don't have to buy my own. Always a plus, particularly on my budget.
Have "Wake Me Up When September Ends" by Green Day stuck in my head. Not a bad song to have revolving around. And, as always, Suite: Judy Blue Eyes.
Reading Simmons' fantastic breakdown of the British teams, I have to say that I absolutely agree with him that English football has something that American sports are severely lacking for the most part: spirit. And not just "my team is awesome" assertions in everyday conversation, but real face-paint wearing, top-of-your-lungs screaming, team-song singing, bust-a-vein fan revelry. Case in point: Liverpool. I've heard before how fantastically committed and downright crazy those fans are, but watching YouTube clips of a sea of red-clad fans belting out You'll Never Walk Alone gives new appreciation to the kind of energy fans can supply. And that's just during regular season games-- the enthusiam increases many-fold when playoffs are in full swing.
While Yankee fans are certainly better than most in American sports, even we have much to learn from our British counterparts. The bleacher-creatures do an admirable job with their team salutes at the beginning of every game, and when there's 2 outs in the 9th and were just one strike away from winning the game, there is certainly an acceptable amount of noise--helped along by "Freddie Sez" Shulman and his clanging pot. However I say more energy! Next time I go to a game, I'm busting out the face paint. Obviously something to be introduced to the Stadium slowly so that it catches on like a good idea and I'm not seen as that weirdo girl with the crayon on her face. However, when at the Giants game oh-so-many years ago, painting a huge "G" on my cheek earned me a couple seconds of air-time on the Jumbo-tron and, apparantly, national television, so clearly someone out there thinks it's a good idea. Watch out, Dave Seid, I may be painting your face as well.
In other news, I'm seeing Lady In The Water tonight. The ads for it always throw me because the face in the center (the blue-tinted androgynous one) which actually belongs to Bryce Dallas Howard looks exactly like Elijah Wood. So bizzare. I read an article which, along with zinging M. Night Shyamalan (or however you spell his name) for his king-size ego, suggests that this film may be far different from his past cinematic ventures. Also notable is that he split with Disney because he was insistent on casting himself as an author who's story ends up changing the world. Hmmm, maybe there IS something to this super-inflated ego rumor.
Anyway, I really have liked his past movies (though didn't see the Village, which was widely panned) so even though I'm somewhat apprehensive about this one, it's absolutely worth seeing based on previous experience. Plus, I'm meeting my mom for dinner beforehand which means I don't have to buy my own. Always a plus, particularly on my budget.
Have "Wake Me Up When September Ends" by Green Day stuck in my head. Not a bad song to have revolving around. And, as always, Suite: Judy Blue Eyes.
Ani Ohevet Haifa
I just got an email from my friend, Jess, whom I met in Haifa in the fall
(I absolutely adore her). She spent the whole year in Haifa and is actually
still there (for just another week) and sent out a description of what living
there now is like:
Anyways, some of you asked what life in Haifa is like now, and well, it's quiet; I haven't been outside, like really outside for a walk or to a park and *definitely* not to a beach in five days. Instead, I've been in and out of the bomb shelter at my friend's in mid-town or at my boyfriend's up-town when the air raid siren goes off, and I met all of the neighbors, which I suppose would be really nice in other circumstances, like, say, if people weren't launching rockets at us.
If you know anything about the topography of Haifa, you'll know that the entire city is built on a mountain, with neighborhoods on every level. However, what most people don't know is the further up the mountain the better off (socio-economically) the residents are, and that most of the rockets are hitting the lower levels of the mountain and outlying areas, which means that the people getting rockets shot at them every hour are generally not very well off, and having giant holes blown in their houses probably isn't helping the situation.
Now, Haifa is not like Beirut, what with neighborhoods flattened to the ground/no longer existing and stuff, but it's a ghost town. No one is at the beach (though I wouldn't be able to verify that) because rockets land in the sea and nearby. No one is at the malls or the movie theatres because it's hard to hear the air raid siren from inside and also most of the malls and movie theatres are in direct line of fire.
Only essential services are open, which means the stores and restaurants and pools and markets are essentially closed. There are very few cars on the street. No one is playing in the park, and people are generally staying inside with their families. A lot of people have fled south to Tel Aviv and Jerusalem, Jerusalem being the wiser choice because Tel Aviv is actually reachable by Hezbollah rockets (theIsraeli Air Force deflected one en route to Tel Aviv a few days ago, but people are still going to Tel Aviv en masse).
If I tell you that this is SO SO unlike Haifa, it would be a complete understatement. It was always a busy, beautiful city, with people outside going to restaurants, bars, the mall at all hours. It's such a social city, with the shuk in Hadar brimming with people, even on the days were the produce was freshest and therefore most expensive. I can barely imagine the
streets being so empty, or the Grand Kanyon mall without hordes of men crowded around big screen tv's showing the Maccabi Haifa matches. It's also so depressing to think of what
this is doing to the Haifa and Israeli economies. With everything closed and the reserves called up, the country must be at a standstill. Is it bizzare that all I want to do is go back?
(I absolutely adore her). She spent the whole year in Haifa and is actually
still there (for just another week) and sent out a description of what living
there now is like:
Anyways, some of you asked what life in Haifa is like now, and well, it's quiet; I haven't been outside, like really outside for a walk or to a park and *definitely* not to a beach in five days. Instead, I've been in and out of the bomb shelter at my friend's in mid-town or at my boyfriend's up-town when the air raid siren goes off, and I met all of the neighbors, which I suppose would be really nice in other circumstances, like, say, if people weren't launching rockets at us.
If you know anything about the topography of Haifa, you'll know that the entire city is built on a mountain, with neighborhoods on every level. However, what most people don't know is the further up the mountain the better off (socio-economically) the residents are, and that most of the rockets are hitting the lower levels of the mountain and outlying areas, which means that the people getting rockets shot at them every hour are generally not very well off, and having giant holes blown in their houses probably isn't helping the situation.
Now, Haifa is not like Beirut, what with neighborhoods flattened to the ground/no longer existing and stuff, but it's a ghost town. No one is at the beach (though I wouldn't be able to verify that) because rockets land in the sea and nearby. No one is at the malls or the movie theatres because it's hard to hear the air raid siren from inside and also most of the malls and movie theatres are in direct line of fire.
Only essential services are open, which means the stores and restaurants and pools and markets are essentially closed. There are very few cars on the street. No one is playing in the park, and people are generally staying inside with their families. A lot of people have fled south to Tel Aviv and Jerusalem, Jerusalem being the wiser choice because Tel Aviv is actually reachable by Hezbollah rockets (theIsraeli Air Force deflected one en route to Tel Aviv a few days ago, but people are still going to Tel Aviv en masse).
If I tell you that this is SO SO unlike Haifa, it would be a complete understatement. It was always a busy, beautiful city, with people outside going to restaurants, bars, the mall at all hours. It's such a social city, with the shuk in Hadar brimming with people, even on the days were the produce was freshest and therefore most expensive. I can barely imagine the
streets being so empty, or the Grand Kanyon mall without hordes of men crowded around big screen tv's showing the Maccabi Haifa matches. It's also so depressing to think of what
this is doing to the Haifa and Israeli economies. With everything closed and the reserves called up, the country must be at a standstill. Is it bizzare that all I want to do is go back?
Wednesday, July 19, 2006
Darth Vader Musical
http://youtube.com/watch?v=M_NALyl9Sr4&search=darth%20vader%3A%20the%20musical
What else is there to say?
What else is there to say?
Oh What a Night!
Did anyone else catch last night's Yankee game? I think the NYTimes said it best when it described the game as going from mundane to wild to weird. For those of you who didn't catch it, we were down 4-2 in the 9th as it began to thunder storm. But we stuck in there, and came up with a huge rally to tie it. Thank you Andy Phillips (who looks eerily similar to my boss) who hussled out a double--and when it's Ichiro fielding the ball, that's no easy feat--and was driven in by the guy who pinch hit for Nick Green (name escapes me). Bubba (my darling!) who pinch ran for nameless player made it to 2nd on a wild pitch and then to home on a sac fly by Damon to tie the score. A-Rod was up, but then the sky really opened up so they called a rain delay with A-Rod 3-1 in his at-bat. So insane! Unfortunately I fell asleep during the Paul O'Neil Yankeeography (which I'd seen before) that they play during all rain delays so I didn't get to see the fantastic ending. But, after a 2 hour delay, Cabrera hit a walk off homer in the 11th to seal the deal. I'll bet Torre really enjoyed his birthday.
In other news I have been ferociously working all day on a project that I really care about. SO awesome to feel productive, useful and all the rest. I've even been writing some survey questions (which may or may not make it into the final cut, but I'm writing and doing something that most interns don't work on). Solid.
For those of you who have been actively searching on my behalf since my first blog post, I found and ordered a pair of wellies so that's done. I'm very excited and hope to hell they fit. I'm always wary of ordering clothes from a catalogue because they inevitably don't fit and in the weirdest places, too. Bah.
In other news, the weather at 9am was lovely. I hope it stays.
In other news I have been ferociously working all day on a project that I really care about. SO awesome to feel productive, useful and all the rest. I've even been writing some survey questions (which may or may not make it into the final cut, but I'm writing and doing something that most interns don't work on). Solid.
For those of you who have been actively searching on my behalf since my first blog post, I found and ordered a pair of wellies so that's done. I'm very excited and hope to hell they fit. I'm always wary of ordering clothes from a catalogue because they inevitably don't fit and in the weirdest places, too. Bah.
In other news, the weather at 9am was lovely. I hope it stays.
Tuesday, July 18, 2006
A Case of the Mondays
It's 10:30am and I'm already eating my lunch. The office is nearly empty and solitaire is not going well. My eyes are already bugging out and refusing to focus (though with my trusty new glasses, we're putting off the point where they go completely kaput for a bit longer).
After work today, I'm meeting my dad for a drink at our pub, Mr. Dennehy's. I really like that I can say that now. I'm meeting my dad for a drink. It sounds so adult, so very mature. It's almost weird, almost.
The problem with packing your own lunch is that no matter how hard you try, or how good the ingredients are, there's always a better version on sale "downstairs" for $7.95. I also never pack enough, so I end up being hungry again very quickly and have to go buy something, which thus defeats the purpose of packing one's own lunch. I suppose this could all be easily remedied by bringing along carrot sticks, a piece of fruit, some yogurt, but really I am far too lazy. Doesn't speak well of my personality at all, but there it is.
In other news, I love how this Bush microphone gaffe is being treated as an actual story, rather than just a funny incident that makes the G8 summit, thankfully, have a humorous side. They're asking Blair and Bush about it, as if there's anything scandalous about using the word shit--particularly in reference to this kind of situation. Please, Middle East diplomacy would would spur the Pope into cursing (which by the way, I am convinced he does irregardless of the subject).
I am hot and cold at the same time. The air is on ultra-igloo high, but we opened a window. I am waiting for us to have weather in the office.
After work today, I'm meeting my dad for a drink at our pub, Mr. Dennehy's. I really like that I can say that now. I'm meeting my dad for a drink. It sounds so adult, so very mature. It's almost weird, almost.
The problem with packing your own lunch is that no matter how hard you try, or how good the ingredients are, there's always a better version on sale "downstairs" for $7.95. I also never pack enough, so I end up being hungry again very quickly and have to go buy something, which thus defeats the purpose of packing one's own lunch. I suppose this could all be easily remedied by bringing along carrot sticks, a piece of fruit, some yogurt, but really I am far too lazy. Doesn't speak well of my personality at all, but there it is.
In other news, I love how this Bush microphone gaffe is being treated as an actual story, rather than just a funny incident that makes the G8 summit, thankfully, have a humorous side. They're asking Blair and Bush about it, as if there's anything scandalous about using the word shit--particularly in reference to this kind of situation. Please, Middle East diplomacy would would spur the Pope into cursing (which by the way, I am convinced he does irregardless of the subject).
I am hot and cold at the same time. The air is on ultra-igloo high, but we opened a window. I am waiting for us to have weather in the office.
Monday, July 17, 2006
Why Bill Simmons is my New Best Friend:
From the Page 2 mail bag:
Q: Which is better, the Dodger Dog or the Fenway Frank? Do you prefer boiled and split top? Or do you like foot-long and steamed? I feel like Drama and Turtle at Sundance, but you get the idea. Please help us resolve this issue.
--Andrew C., Boston
SG: God bless the comedic power of the Fenway Frank, but has anyone ever walked into Fenway and said, "Man, I can't wait to tear into a Fenway Frank. They're delicious!" You can't find a more mediocre hot dog. But the Dodger Dog lived up the hype -- it's long and juicy, even a little salty, and you can definitely get a whole meal out of it. No contest.
(P.S.: I know the previous paragraph is going to lead to about 700 "Who wrote the Dodger Dog review, Bill Simmons or Richard Simmons?" e-mails. But there's really no way to write positively about a hot dog without sounding like you're reviewing a porn movie or writing a trashy novel. You have to admit.)
Q: Which is better, the Dodger Dog or the Fenway Frank? Do you prefer boiled and split top? Or do you like foot-long and steamed? I feel like Drama and Turtle at Sundance, but you get the idea. Please help us resolve this issue.
--Andrew C., Boston
SG: God bless the comedic power of the Fenway Frank, but has anyone ever walked into Fenway and said, "Man, I can't wait to tear into a Fenway Frank. They're delicious!" You can't find a more mediocre hot dog. But the Dodger Dog lived up the hype -- it's long and juicy, even a little salty, and you can definitely get a whole meal out of it. No contest.
(P.S.: I know the previous paragraph is going to lead to about 700 "Who wrote the Dodger Dog review, Bill Simmons or Richard Simmons?" e-mails. But there's really no way to write positively about a hot dog without sounding like you're reviewing a porn movie or writing a trashy novel. You have to admit.)
Have subconsciously taken to "sports-casting" my own solitaire games--and in a British accent no less. "And there goes the four on the five, the three on the four, what a silly move as there was already a three on another pile--oh wait! Our champion has employed the ever-useful Undo button and is presently rectifying the mistake. Good catch! She proceeds with unearthing an Ace! Fantastic, she unloads all the superfluous clubs that were clogging up good red cards and now runs through the deck placing the spades on the now free cards. Oh dear, she seems to be stuck, nothing in the deck is helping, could this be the end of our champion's run? Oh! Classic! She's spotted the seven hiding way in the back. And she's done it! She continues the streak!"
I am mad in the head. I didn't even realize I was doing it until I started talking out loud. Luckily it was very quiet so no one heard me. But still...
In other news, President Bush's language got a little fresh at the G8 summit in a microphone gaffe. A side conversation he and Prime Minister Blair were engaged in was, unbeknownst to them, picked up by the mics that were still on. Debating what to do about the erupting situation with Hezbollah and Israel, Bush said: Bush replied: "See, the irony is what they need to do is get Syria to get Hizbollah to stop doing this shit and it's over." Aside from the fact that it's improper use of the word irony, he's completely right. Whoa, was that the world tilting on it's axis? Hmm, perhaps it was pigs soaring into flight. Nevertheless, the key to this situation is clearly to get those stupid terrorists to sit down and shut up. Now, Mr. President. Any ideas?
So I agreed to participate in a study being done by a friend of a friend at Northwestern about Jewish college students and their religious identity (or something like that, it's been a while since I actually read the explanation). I'm starting to get a little nervous that I won't have much to say or that I'll be terribly incoherent (which anyone who's heard me tell a story can attest, is not exactly outside the realm of possibilites). I think perhaps I may be filmed, for some reason "documentary" is associated with the project in my head, so I'm thinking I read in the explanation that she's putting together a film on Jewish identity. Hmm, I better double-check that so I can dress accordingly. There's nothing worse than being the visual proof that Brandeis is where the ugly Jews go. (horrible, despicable, simply awful to say, I know, but so so true for the most-part--hmm, hopefully I'll have the diplomacy NOT to mention that in the interview...)
Have been trying desperately to get myself to work on my senior thesis. I think it could be a really great and interesting thing to research, and right now all I need to do is write a 2-page proposal. Not terribly hard, right? Heh heh, not if you're me! I'm really and truly impossible. And, to make it even worse, I know that this thesis, if done well, would absolutely be a leg up in helping me land a job in an area I'm interested in. I'm thinking that a good topic would be: How did the moral stigmatization attached to HIV/AIDS stymie the American government's (particularly President Reagan's administration's) response to the disease. What effect did this have on the proliferation of the pandemic? How is this stigmatization still manifesting itself? How does it compare to the moral-branding of past epidemics? What can we learn from the initial response to AIDS when trying to combat this and future pandemics?
Clearly it needs work, and the answers to many of the questions are painfully obvious, so I'll have to dig deeper for something more compelling underneath. But maybe it's a good place to start? The point is, I need to get that into a proposal form, with a plan for research and such, and then meet with a professor, get him to sign on, and then help me find the meat of the issue. Grrr, I'm definitely one of those students that needs handholding when it comes to the conception stage of a massive project. I hate that about myself, but I realize that I am seldom the "big idea" person and more often the "here's how to execute that best" person.
Big Question: What to eat for dinner?
I am mad in the head. I didn't even realize I was doing it until I started talking out loud. Luckily it was very quiet so no one heard me. But still...
In other news, President Bush's language got a little fresh at the G8 summit in a microphone gaffe. A side conversation he and Prime Minister Blair were engaged in was, unbeknownst to them, picked up by the mics that were still on. Debating what to do about the erupting situation with Hezbollah and Israel, Bush said: Bush replied: "See, the irony is what they need to do is get Syria to get Hizbollah to stop doing this shit and it's over." Aside from the fact that it's improper use of the word irony, he's completely right. Whoa, was that the world tilting on it's axis? Hmm, perhaps it was pigs soaring into flight. Nevertheless, the key to this situation is clearly to get those stupid terrorists to sit down and shut up. Now, Mr. President. Any ideas?
So I agreed to participate in a study being done by a friend of a friend at Northwestern about Jewish college students and their religious identity (or something like that, it's been a while since I actually read the explanation). I'm starting to get a little nervous that I won't have much to say or that I'll be terribly incoherent (which anyone who's heard me tell a story can attest, is not exactly outside the realm of possibilites). I think perhaps I may be filmed, for some reason "documentary" is associated with the project in my head, so I'm thinking I read in the explanation that she's putting together a film on Jewish identity. Hmm, I better double-check that so I can dress accordingly. There's nothing worse than being the visual proof that Brandeis is where the ugly Jews go. (horrible, despicable, simply awful to say, I know, but so so true for the most-part--hmm, hopefully I'll have the diplomacy NOT to mention that in the interview...)
Have been trying desperately to get myself to work on my senior thesis. I think it could be a really great and interesting thing to research, and right now all I need to do is write a 2-page proposal. Not terribly hard, right? Heh heh, not if you're me! I'm really and truly impossible. And, to make it even worse, I know that this thesis, if done well, would absolutely be a leg up in helping me land a job in an area I'm interested in. I'm thinking that a good topic would be: How did the moral stigmatization attached to HIV/AIDS stymie the American government's (particularly President Reagan's administration's) response to the disease. What effect did this have on the proliferation of the pandemic? How is this stigmatization still manifesting itself? How does it compare to the moral-branding of past epidemics? What can we learn from the initial response to AIDS when trying to combat this and future pandemics?
Clearly it needs work, and the answers to many of the questions are painfully obvious, so I'll have to dig deeper for something more compelling underneath. But maybe it's a good place to start? The point is, I need to get that into a proposal form, with a plan for research and such, and then meet with a professor, get him to sign on, and then help me find the meat of the issue. Grrr, I'm definitely one of those students that needs handholding when it comes to the conception stage of a massive project. I hate that about myself, but I realize that I am seldom the "big idea" person and more often the "here's how to execute that best" person.
Big Question: What to eat for dinner?
Friday, July 14, 2006
Insanity!!
Yaay!! Have finally figured out how to title my posts (the title bar needs to be physically turned on in the settings menu, how silly).
Interesting:
National Geographic has an article about a study that has made some preliminary findings that link weather (specifically rain and thunder storms) to traffic patterns!! The researchers think that increased pollution caused by the increased traffic on weekdays, particularly truck traffic, may explain why rainstorms are more frequent and heavier on weekdays. Apparantly, pollution releases tiny particles into the air, which then causes moisture to coalesce into tiny droplets. These little droplets then rise higher in the air than regular ones, which generally makes for a stronger, more intense storm. (The study was conducted in Southeast US.) How bizarro (in a totally logical way) is that?
Along the same, though far more humorous, line-- dairy cows have been cited by the government as "the main source of smog-forming pollutants in the San Joaquin Valley, California." It seems that the cows are only the latest livestock to be "branded an environmental health risk on account of their flatulent behavior," and that they emit more smog-forming gases than cars! Just think, everytime you pass gas, you may be contributing to the hole in the ozone. Bean lovers beware.
Interesting:
National Geographic has an article about a study that has made some preliminary findings that link weather (specifically rain and thunder storms) to traffic patterns!! The researchers think that increased pollution caused by the increased traffic on weekdays, particularly truck traffic, may explain why rainstorms are more frequent and heavier on weekdays. Apparantly, pollution releases tiny particles into the air, which then causes moisture to coalesce into tiny droplets. These little droplets then rise higher in the air than regular ones, which generally makes for a stronger, more intense storm. (The study was conducted in Southeast US.) How bizarro (in a totally logical way) is that?
Along the same, though far more humorous, line-- dairy cows have been cited by the government as "the main source of smog-forming pollutants in the San Joaquin Valley, California." It seems that the cows are only the latest livestock to be "branded an environmental health risk on account of their flatulent behavior," and that they emit more smog-forming gases than cars! Just think, everytime you pass gas, you may be contributing to the hole in the ozone. Bean lovers beware.
First off, it is absolutely, utterly despicable the way mainstream media has, for the most part, portrayed this recent explosion in the Middle East. Every headline, every article is about the large-scale Israeli retaliation--with all the emphasis placed on "large-scale" rather than "retaliation." Has no one noticed that three Israeli soldiers have been kidnapped by terrorist organizations? That Hezbollah rockets have been flying into northern Israel by the dozens, hitting Sfat, Carmiel and Haifa--all places I visited and LIVED IN. The Stella Maris, a beautiful, historical and multi-ethnic neighborhood in Haifa was hit. If the victims were Americans, the entire Middle East would have been flying under the U.S. flag hours ago. But nowhere in sight are pictures of the distruction wrought on Israel, or even stories about the particulars. Only clinical mentions of the new scars on Israeli land and then paragraphs on the indicidual bridges and runways hit in Lebanon. Only the Washington Post, in an editorial, seems to take the pragmatic approach:
Also startling is how connected I feel to Haifa, and how bizzare it is to think that some of the very places I walked are now rubble. When the WTC was hit on 9/11, of course it hit close to home, of course it was scary, startling and everything else. But I hadn't been to the twin towers since I was very little, hadn't even walked by in years. Being that distanced made it surreal, yes it was a part of my home, but not a very big part--my life, my memories never really changed because those towers were never a signifacant part of my everyday experience. But this, in Israel, is different. Jack called yesterday to tell me that the Israeli army was shooting back from a promenade in Haifa--one that extends along the top ridge of the mountain from the Carmel Center to the Bahai Gardens and farther down. I took Jack to that promenade just seven months ago, pointing off in the distance to where, on a clear day, you can see the Lebanese border. To think that there are now tanks and other evidence of war on that beautiful street is startling. I have so many memories there, first with Deborah on our 10 hour hike through the city, then with the overseas group as we toured the Bahai Gardens, and with Jack. Though short-lived, that city, and particularly that part of it, will always feel like home some romantic, nostalgic way. How strange to know that it's under attack, to crave pictures of just how much damage has been wrought, and to not be able to find any, because though they won't say it, the "media" feels that the city, my city, deserves it.
"WHEN ISRAEL withdrew its troops from southern Lebanon in 2000 after more
than two decades of occupation, it also issued a warning: Any cross-border
provocations by Hezbollah, the militant Shiite group, would elicit a severe
military response. So there can be no surprise at the violent reaction to
Hezbollah's ambush of an Israeli patrol Wednesday, in which three soldiers were
killed and two others taken captive by the guerrillas. And there can be no doubt
that Iran and Syria, Hezbollah's chief sponsors, bear responsibility for what
has instantly become the most far-reaching, lethal and dangerous eruption of
cross-border fighting in the Middle East in recent years.
"Europeans and others in the international community are already
criticizing as excessive Israel's swift military response. Conspicuously they
have said comparatively little about the volleys of dozens of rockets Hezbollah
rained down on northern Israel yesterday. In fact, given the all-too-familiar
patterns of violence and retribution in the Middle East, the Israeli attacks are
entirely predictable, and precisely what Hezbollah and its patrons must have
expected and even wanted."
Also startling is how connected I feel to Haifa, and how bizzare it is to think that some of the very places I walked are now rubble. When the WTC was hit on 9/11, of course it hit close to home, of course it was scary, startling and everything else. But I hadn't been to the twin towers since I was very little, hadn't even walked by in years. Being that distanced made it surreal, yes it was a part of my home, but not a very big part--my life, my memories never really changed because those towers were never a signifacant part of my everyday experience. But this, in Israel, is different. Jack called yesterday to tell me that the Israeli army was shooting back from a promenade in Haifa--one that extends along the top ridge of the mountain from the Carmel Center to the Bahai Gardens and farther down. I took Jack to that promenade just seven months ago, pointing off in the distance to where, on a clear day, you can see the Lebanese border. To think that there are now tanks and other evidence of war on that beautiful street is startling. I have so many memories there, first with Deborah on our 10 hour hike through the city, then with the overseas group as we toured the Bahai Gardens, and with Jack. Though short-lived, that city, and particularly that part of it, will always feel like home some romantic, nostalgic way. How strange to know that it's under attack, to crave pictures of just how much damage has been wrought, and to not be able to find any, because though they won't say it, the "media" feels that the city, my city, deserves it.
Thursday, July 13, 2006
For those West Wing fans out there:
Remember that episode where they're putting a poll in the field (I think it's the first season) and the opening scene is all of the main characters frantically editing and arguing over the wording of the questions and they keep saying that a particular question is "asymmetrical"? The question was do you think the country is "heading in the right direction or getting off track"? and CJ says that the question has been used for years and is proven to be an accurate predictor of the way respondants actually feel. Well, a survey we're working on now asks that very question about an initiative and it's making me think that the scene in the West Wing was evidence of a Frank Luntz contribution. How terribly exciting!
In other news, I watched an episode of Doogie Howser yesterday, my friend Sam purchased Season 2 and clearly we had to break it open. Insanity! I only vaguely remember the show from when it was on, but I do recall really liking it. It was hilarious to watch because the show was so obviously made in the 80s, complete with "lesson-learning" music that rivals what plays when the Tanners learn their big lesson in minute 23 of all Full House episodes. But more, Niel Patrick Harris was soooooo young! It was ridiculous to be looking at such a young version of a face I know so well. But even then he had gravitas and could deliver a line well, even if it was incredibly cheezy or a lip-synch to "Monster Mash." I kid you not.
Yesterday I received not one, but two birthday cards. Both from Janine. What's that you say? My birthday was three weeks ago and therefore terribly old news? Well, indeed. However, apparantly Janine had some difficulties with the U.S. mail services and something about camping which prevented said birthday card from arriving in a timely manner. A very funny facebook wall-post conversation resulted in an attempt to explain and understand the difficulties. However, the belated birthday cards made it feel like my special day lasted forever, and therefore the tardiness is excused.
Tonight I am going with my mom and sister to see my new cousin (just married into the family) in an off-broadway play, the quality of which I am slightly dubious. It's a collection of short plays that combine to form an ode to photography, or something like that. Though I like to think of myself as an open person, one thing I have realized that I am not particularly fond of is experimental, overly-artsy, or even just plain mediocre theater. Discovered this when I was obligated to watch an off- off-broadway performance of Macbeth and just couldn't get past the fact that the witches were wearing sand-colored unitards splattered with forest green paint and talked to their own hands when conversing with their "familiars." Dunsinane Castle will never be the same in my mind. It will also be weird to watch someone I actually know perform in a real production as opposed to college plays where it is acceptable to cheer obnoxiously when your friends make their entrances. I fear my conduct tonight may be less than emily post-caliber. I also fear I may fall asleep as the Doogie Howser watching kept me out until past 1am. I also slept like a rock and nearly broke the alarm in dismay when it went off this morning. Too early. Work starts too too early. I demand minimum wage laws be ammended to include a 10am workday-start statute. I hate waking up.
I've decided that today's word of the day is co-dependent. Must be said in small, British voice like Bridget Jones' friend in the first movie (played by actress who also does Moaning Myrtle in the Harry Potters) , otherwise it doesn't count. I also like reciprocity.
Ew. I just looked up the 10-day weather and it's basically going to be more of the same throughout. Very humid and scattered thunderstorms. I am horribly disappointed as I finally have a weekend all to myself and I fully intended to go out and enjoy the sunshine and summer breeze, but now it looks like I'm not going to want to be outside for anything. Bah.
Remember that episode where they're putting a poll in the field (I think it's the first season) and the opening scene is all of the main characters frantically editing and arguing over the wording of the questions and they keep saying that a particular question is "asymmetrical"? The question was do you think the country is "heading in the right direction or getting off track"? and CJ says that the question has been used for years and is proven to be an accurate predictor of the way respondants actually feel. Well, a survey we're working on now asks that very question about an initiative and it's making me think that the scene in the West Wing was evidence of a Frank Luntz contribution. How terribly exciting!
In other news, I watched an episode of Doogie Howser yesterday, my friend Sam purchased Season 2 and clearly we had to break it open. Insanity! I only vaguely remember the show from when it was on, but I do recall really liking it. It was hilarious to watch because the show was so obviously made in the 80s, complete with "lesson-learning" music that rivals what plays when the Tanners learn their big lesson in minute 23 of all Full House episodes. But more, Niel Patrick Harris was soooooo young! It was ridiculous to be looking at such a young version of a face I know so well. But even then he had gravitas and could deliver a line well, even if it was incredibly cheezy or a lip-synch to "Monster Mash." I kid you not.
Yesterday I received not one, but two birthday cards. Both from Janine. What's that you say? My birthday was three weeks ago and therefore terribly old news? Well, indeed. However, apparantly Janine had some difficulties with the U.S. mail services and something about camping which prevented said birthday card from arriving in a timely manner. A very funny facebook wall-post conversation resulted in an attempt to explain and understand the difficulties. However, the belated birthday cards made it feel like my special day lasted forever, and therefore the tardiness is excused.
Tonight I am going with my mom and sister to see my new cousin (just married into the family) in an off-broadway play, the quality of which I am slightly dubious. It's a collection of short plays that combine to form an ode to photography, or something like that. Though I like to think of myself as an open person, one thing I have realized that I am not particularly fond of is experimental, overly-artsy, or even just plain mediocre theater. Discovered this when I was obligated to watch an off- off-broadway performance of Macbeth and just couldn't get past the fact that the witches were wearing sand-colored unitards splattered with forest green paint and talked to their own hands when conversing with their "familiars." Dunsinane Castle will never be the same in my mind. It will also be weird to watch someone I actually know perform in a real production as opposed to college plays where it is acceptable to cheer obnoxiously when your friends make their entrances. I fear my conduct tonight may be less than emily post-caliber. I also fear I may fall asleep as the Doogie Howser watching kept me out until past 1am. I also slept like a rock and nearly broke the alarm in dismay when it went off this morning. Too early. Work starts too too early. I demand minimum wage laws be ammended to include a 10am workday-start statute. I hate waking up.
I've decided that today's word of the day is co-dependent. Must be said in small, British voice like Bridget Jones' friend in the first movie (played by actress who also does Moaning Myrtle in the Harry Potters) , otherwise it doesn't count. I also like reciprocity.
Ew. I just looked up the 10-day weather and it's basically going to be more of the same throughout. Very humid and scattered thunderstorms. I am horribly disappointed as I finally have a weekend all to myself and I fully intended to go out and enjoy the sunshine and summer breeze, but now it looks like I'm not going to want to be outside for anything. Bah.
Wednesday, July 12, 2006
Fantastically, I have actually had work to do today! The company is in the process of redoing the website (which is long-overdue) and I have been given the task of being the 6th pair of eyes to edit the whole thing. Equally exciting is that I've been given license to re-write wherever I see fit and they seem to like what I've been doing so far. It's definitely far different from the kind of writing I'm used to doing (persuasive papers and historical research) so it's an interesting excersise for me. I also love feeling useful.
However, I desperately needed a break. All the words were starting to meld together and I was losing track of the message--never good when writing for a public relations-type firm.
Last night's All-Star Game was very exciting. We almost dropped it, but a last-out triple saved our bums and we once again retain home-field advantage. And by "we" I clearly mean the American League of which I am an honorary member. My favorite thing about the All-Star Game is that I get the opportunity to cheer for players I would ordinarily not be rooting for. On any other day I would die before woo-hooing David Ortiz, but last night I got to "Come on, baby!" him guilt-free. It's also a nice showcase of talented players that I haven't been keeping track of because they haven't yet played my Yanks, a good look into what the rest of the season holds and what we may be facing.
It is nasty outside. The air is thick as pea soup and I sweated nearly a gallon just while I was standing on the subway platform (where it is extra hot and soupy). Very unpleasant because you then have to cram your sweaty-slick body up against other smelly, perspiring commuters and hope you don't stick together. Yet another reason why I think I have had my fill of New York for a while. It's just so unpleasant to be bereft of a sea-breeze.
Tonight I take advantage of New York's Restaurant Week (one of the reasons I still do love NYC deep in my heart, and have not yet fled to the Rockies). I am meeting Sam and Jody, our 6th grade Humanities teacher, for dinner at Bolo--an upscale mexican infusian restaurant that I think may be another Bobby Flay outpost. Mesa Grill, Flay's hit restaurant was excellent, boasting novel food alchemies with spice. I am definitely looking forward to Bolo, though not to swimming my way over to the restaurant. I hate arriving places completely drenched with sweat and over-heated to an uncomfortable degree making it look like you just hiked Everest in heels. And there's never a decent opportunity to recombobulate yourself before anyone notices. Bah! At least the office is freezing; the walk to the restaurant may be just short enough to only thaw me out rather than melt me into a puddle.
I have December, 1963 (Oh What A Night!) stuck in my head. It's my most recent purchase off of itunes, but I have yet to listen to it in full. itunes is 8 kinds of fantastic.
However, I desperately needed a break. All the words were starting to meld together and I was losing track of the message--never good when writing for a public relations-type firm.
Last night's All-Star Game was very exciting. We almost dropped it, but a last-out triple saved our bums and we once again retain home-field advantage. And by "we" I clearly mean the American League of which I am an honorary member. My favorite thing about the All-Star Game is that I get the opportunity to cheer for players I would ordinarily not be rooting for. On any other day I would die before woo-hooing David Ortiz, but last night I got to "Come on, baby!" him guilt-free. It's also a nice showcase of talented players that I haven't been keeping track of because they haven't yet played my Yanks, a good look into what the rest of the season holds and what we may be facing.
It is nasty outside. The air is thick as pea soup and I sweated nearly a gallon just while I was standing on the subway platform (where it is extra hot and soupy). Very unpleasant because you then have to cram your sweaty-slick body up against other smelly, perspiring commuters and hope you don't stick together. Yet another reason why I think I have had my fill of New York for a while. It's just so unpleasant to be bereft of a sea-breeze.
Tonight I take advantage of New York's Restaurant Week (one of the reasons I still do love NYC deep in my heart, and have not yet fled to the Rockies). I am meeting Sam and Jody, our 6th grade Humanities teacher, for dinner at Bolo--an upscale mexican infusian restaurant that I think may be another Bobby Flay outpost. Mesa Grill, Flay's hit restaurant was excellent, boasting novel food alchemies with spice. I am definitely looking forward to Bolo, though not to swimming my way over to the restaurant. I hate arriving places completely drenched with sweat and over-heated to an uncomfortable degree making it look like you just hiked Everest in heels. And there's never a decent opportunity to recombobulate yourself before anyone notices. Bah! At least the office is freezing; the walk to the restaurant may be just short enough to only thaw me out rather than melt me into a puddle.
I have December, 1963 (Oh What A Night!) stuck in my head. It's my most recent purchase off of itunes, but I have yet to listen to it in full. itunes is 8 kinds of fantastic.
Tuesday, July 11, 2006
Interesting New York phenomenon:
It is inevitable that on the days that I am truly looking my worst, I am the recipient of that plague of all gothamettes: the construction worker/ delivery man/etc. cat call. First off, the entire practice of calling after women passing by is just ridiculous and distruptive to the long chain of thought I was inevitably engrossed in. As if any of us are going to stop in our tracks, turn around and ask the caller out on a date or for a quick smooch--particularly when they are so often considerably shorter than we are. But secondly, at least in my experience, more often than not it happens when I'm hardly a walking vision. Take today:
This morning I hit the snooze button no fewer than 5 times which automatically means that there is no time to shower, resulting in slightly greasy hair with odd fly-aways halo that gets worse as I sweat during my morning subway commute--gross factor 1. Was walking zombie, so threw on clothes from the top of the drawer resulting in less than inspired wardrobe. Have been blowing nose all day, causing the office to run out of tissues and forcing me to resort to paper napkins (ouch!) so have raw red nose and vaguely medicine-head dazed look about me--gross factor 2. Combined with a haze of sheer exhaustion brought on by 5,000 consecutive rounds of solitaire does not a knock-em dead dame make. Yet, strangely enough! was hollered at by a crowd of off-duty construction workers--in a language I do not understand (ironic that cat-calling seems to transcend language whereas asking directions never quite does)-- and was then told by a virtual stranger that I was lookin' pretty. Disregarding the fact that my dark sungalsses were hiding my puffy cold-hazed eyes, the latter comment was vaguely reassuring. However, still, how odd! And the fact that the strangers of New York City seem to feel I'm looking my best when I'm decidedly in shlump mode doesn't reflect well on what I look like when I'm actually trying to look good. Conundrum.
Anyway, have given up all pretense of trying to do something productive and have given into office trend of listening to music. Have been tuned into Galgalatz, the Israeli Army radio station which I frequently listen to online, and am desperately missing Israel! Between the radio and chats with Mara I cannot wait until I visit again and really do need to dive back into learning Hebrew. It's just plain embarassing that I don't have a working knowledge of any foreign languges, and will prove to be incredibly inconvenient when I finally manage to travel the world.
In other news, a recent study on psychadelic, or magic, mushrooms is making me nervous. According to the study, two-thirds of the participants who took magic mushrooms reported having euphoric experiences that were startlingly impactful and spiritual, some likening it to the elation of giving birth. While a full third reported having bad trips which scared them or made them feel awful, I'm afraid that the study's results are going to encourage people to experiment with magic mushrooms without looking into it and the possible consequences. Taking halucinagenic drugs is SO SO dangerous, and I know of several people who have died, including a kid at Brandeis two years ago who killed himself by slitting his throat and jumping out a second-story window while tripping on mushrooms. I may sound like a "mommy" or a public service announcement, but I'm really scared that people are going to take the results of the study as encouragement to experiment without realizing the huge dangers that are all too commmon. While the study is important because it may lead to distilling elements of the mushrooms to use in anti-depressant medication, I really hope news agencies take care when reporting the story. OK, that's it for the safety report.
I'm unusually excited for tonight's All-Star Game. I've been very into baseball this year, finally managing to watch whole games unlike last summer when I would often be so exhausted from camp that I would fall asleep before the 5th inning--however, am watching far fewer than I would like as I have to defer to my mom on occaision and she decidedly does NOT like watching baseball. Silly woman. Anyway, I terribly miss my traditional trips to Yankee Stadium for games with Dave Seid who abandoned me this summer to better his intellect with summer courses at Indiana. Silly boy. But I've been keeping better tabs on players this season and have been energetically cheering on my favortite Yankee, Bubba Crosby, who doesn't seem to be benefiting from my support. However, I have faith and I know that my man will come through before the end of the season. Come on number 19!!
Half an hour to freedom! I love the days I get out at 5pm. It's nice to feel like there's actually still some day left when work is over. One of the things I love most about college is that classes don't actually dominate the days. I'm seriously looking forward to senior year, the girls and I have all committed ourselves to numerous adventures, hopefully the Maine coast and a trip to the casino will happen quickly upon arrival. I'm also excited to get back into shooting, hopefully the Trap and Target club will still be going strong, and I'm going to finally track down the silly Habitat for Humanity people and get them to actually put me on their email list. Last time I tried they never added me and their office is in an annoyingly inconvenient spot on campus (yes, yes, right in the center, but on the THIRD FLOOR!) so I never hauled over to rectify. But this year I am determined to build a damned house, even if the effort to get there kills me.
I'm actually also thinking about volunteering with an animal shelter, if I can find one that's easily accessibly from Brandeis. I've gotten into my head that I want a puppy as soon as it's humanly possible for me to house and take care of one, so I figure I better make sure I learn what it actually means to take care of one. Never had a pet, unless you count the hand-me-down goldfish that lasted for 2 days, so this may be an interesting experiment.
Huzzah! Was just informed that there will be work waiting for me tomorrow. Bliss!
It is inevitable that on the days that I am truly looking my worst, I am the recipient of that plague of all gothamettes: the construction worker/ delivery man/etc. cat call. First off, the entire practice of calling after women passing by is just ridiculous and distruptive to the long chain of thought I was inevitably engrossed in. As if any of us are going to stop in our tracks, turn around and ask the caller out on a date or for a quick smooch--particularly when they are so often considerably shorter than we are. But secondly, at least in my experience, more often than not it happens when I'm hardly a walking vision. Take today:
This morning I hit the snooze button no fewer than 5 times which automatically means that there is no time to shower, resulting in slightly greasy hair with odd fly-aways halo that gets worse as I sweat during my morning subway commute--gross factor 1. Was walking zombie, so threw on clothes from the top of the drawer resulting in less than inspired wardrobe. Have been blowing nose all day, causing the office to run out of tissues and forcing me to resort to paper napkins (ouch!) so have raw red nose and vaguely medicine-head dazed look about me--gross factor 2. Combined with a haze of sheer exhaustion brought on by 5,000 consecutive rounds of solitaire does not a knock-em dead dame make. Yet, strangely enough! was hollered at by a crowd of off-duty construction workers--in a language I do not understand (ironic that cat-calling seems to transcend language whereas asking directions never quite does)-- and was then told by a virtual stranger that I was lookin' pretty. Disregarding the fact that my dark sungalsses were hiding my puffy cold-hazed eyes, the latter comment was vaguely reassuring. However, still, how odd! And the fact that the strangers of New York City seem to feel I'm looking my best when I'm decidedly in shlump mode doesn't reflect well on what I look like when I'm actually trying to look good. Conundrum.
Anyway, have given up all pretense of trying to do something productive and have given into office trend of listening to music. Have been tuned into Galgalatz, the Israeli Army radio station which I frequently listen to online, and am desperately missing Israel! Between the radio and chats with Mara I cannot wait until I visit again and really do need to dive back into learning Hebrew. It's just plain embarassing that I don't have a working knowledge of any foreign languges, and will prove to be incredibly inconvenient when I finally manage to travel the world.
In other news, a recent study on psychadelic, or magic, mushrooms is making me nervous. According to the study, two-thirds of the participants who took magic mushrooms reported having euphoric experiences that were startlingly impactful and spiritual, some likening it to the elation of giving birth. While a full third reported having bad trips which scared them or made them feel awful, I'm afraid that the study's results are going to encourage people to experiment with magic mushrooms without looking into it and the possible consequences. Taking halucinagenic drugs is SO SO dangerous, and I know of several people who have died, including a kid at Brandeis two years ago who killed himself by slitting his throat and jumping out a second-story window while tripping on mushrooms. I may sound like a "mommy" or a public service announcement, but I'm really scared that people are going to take the results of the study as encouragement to experiment without realizing the huge dangers that are all too commmon. While the study is important because it may lead to distilling elements of the mushrooms to use in anti-depressant medication, I really hope news agencies take care when reporting the story. OK, that's it for the safety report.
I'm unusually excited for tonight's All-Star Game. I've been very into baseball this year, finally managing to watch whole games unlike last summer when I would often be so exhausted from camp that I would fall asleep before the 5th inning--however, am watching far fewer than I would like as I have to defer to my mom on occaision and she decidedly does NOT like watching baseball. Silly woman. Anyway, I terribly miss my traditional trips to Yankee Stadium for games with Dave Seid who abandoned me this summer to better his intellect with summer courses at Indiana. Silly boy. But I've been keeping better tabs on players this season and have been energetically cheering on my favortite Yankee, Bubba Crosby, who doesn't seem to be benefiting from my support. However, I have faith and I know that my man will come through before the end of the season. Come on number 19!!
Half an hour to freedom! I love the days I get out at 5pm. It's nice to feel like there's actually still some day left when work is over. One of the things I love most about college is that classes don't actually dominate the days. I'm seriously looking forward to senior year, the girls and I have all committed ourselves to numerous adventures, hopefully the Maine coast and a trip to the casino will happen quickly upon arrival. I'm also excited to get back into shooting, hopefully the Trap and Target club will still be going strong, and I'm going to finally track down the silly Habitat for Humanity people and get them to actually put me on their email list. Last time I tried they never added me and their office is in an annoyingly inconvenient spot on campus (yes, yes, right in the center, but on the THIRD FLOOR!) so I never hauled over to rectify. But this year I am determined to build a damned house, even if the effort to get there kills me.
I'm actually also thinking about volunteering with an animal shelter, if I can find one that's easily accessibly from Brandeis. I've gotten into my head that I want a puppy as soon as it's humanly possible for me to house and take care of one, so I figure I better make sure I learn what it actually means to take care of one. Never had a pet, unless you count the hand-me-down goldfish that lasted for 2 days, so this may be an interesting experiment.
Huzzah! Was just informed that there will be work waiting for me tomorrow. Bliss!
The most depressing part about having nothing to do at work is that, when there actually is something to do, it's really very fascinating. Though by virtue of a confidentiality agreement I can't actually openly discuss the work, I can say that it's all about word usage and public perspectives and "getting the proper message out" -- all things that I've always found interesting. More work! I demand more!!
Today's Times has an amusing and interesting Op-Ed about major league baseball hoisery and its importance to the history of America's past-time. Very well written by Paul Lucas, an ESPN columnist, "Field of Slobs" can be found here http://www.nytimes.com/2006/07/11/opinion/11lukas.html?_r=1&th&emc=th&oref=slogin or by going to the nytimes.com opinion page. Definintely worth a read.
As I mentioned yesterday, last night I went to see the new Pirates of the Carribean and I must say I was somewhat disappointed. Very little of the original's ingenuity and cleverness was evident in this one, and the film seemed to be a showcase for the special effects people even more than it was a Johnny Depp vehicle. That being said, I laughed heartily in all the appropriate places and was quite appreciative of the superb supporting cast (Stellan Skarsgaard!) and of the fact that I recognized all of them when no one else did--an esteemable trait of mine.
More importantly, it seems that our government has finally decided to meet the minnimum standards set by the Geneva Convention regarding treatment of prisoners of war. Putting aside the obvious--it behooves the U.S. to follow these standards as it safeguards our own soldiers, and that no civilized nation should employ such barbaric tactics, we're better than that-- my question is: who are these people who are capable of doing the torturing? I just simply cannot understand why torture exists in the first place because I cannot image anyone having the stomach for it. And yet some people do. Baffling.
Am currently riding the downward wave of a caffene buzz. Crested about a half-hour ago, and am now wearily tired and unable to focus. I think today calls for an early lunch. But what to eat? Hmmm. Dilemma.
I am sincerely hoping for nice, sunny weather this weekend as I fully intend to spend at least a few hours lying out in the grass. Not being a camp counselor this summer has deprived me of my necessary dose of "outdoors time." I desperately miss swimming every day, lots of sunshine, and playing softball with my campers (always nice to play with people of your own skill level). I can feel my Vitamin D deficiency and look with horror at my still-transparent skin. Might as well have been living in an igloo for all the real summer I've experienced so far. Clearly visits to the family on long island are in order, but for this weekend Central Park will have to do. Anyone looking at a free weekend, please contact me and we can put together a picnic of some sort. I am determined to feel like it's summer at last!
There are 42 sprinklers in the office's ceiling and 15 broken light bulbs and one very ugly shade of carpet.
Kleenex makes a very good hat.
Today's Times has an amusing and interesting Op-Ed about major league baseball hoisery and its importance to the history of America's past-time. Very well written by Paul Lucas, an ESPN columnist, "Field of Slobs" can be found here http://www.nytimes.com/2006/07/11/opinion/11lukas.html?_r=1&th&emc=th&oref=slogin or by going to the nytimes.com opinion page. Definintely worth a read.
As I mentioned yesterday, last night I went to see the new Pirates of the Carribean and I must say I was somewhat disappointed. Very little of the original's ingenuity and cleverness was evident in this one, and the film seemed to be a showcase for the special effects people even more than it was a Johnny Depp vehicle. That being said, I laughed heartily in all the appropriate places and was quite appreciative of the superb supporting cast (Stellan Skarsgaard!) and of the fact that I recognized all of them when no one else did--an esteemable trait of mine.
More importantly, it seems that our government has finally decided to meet the minnimum standards set by the Geneva Convention regarding treatment of prisoners of war. Putting aside the obvious--it behooves the U.S. to follow these standards as it safeguards our own soldiers, and that no civilized nation should employ such barbaric tactics, we're better than that-- my question is: who are these people who are capable of doing the torturing? I just simply cannot understand why torture exists in the first place because I cannot image anyone having the stomach for it. And yet some people do. Baffling.
Am currently riding the downward wave of a caffene buzz. Crested about a half-hour ago, and am now wearily tired and unable to focus. I think today calls for an early lunch. But what to eat? Hmmm. Dilemma.
I am sincerely hoping for nice, sunny weather this weekend as I fully intend to spend at least a few hours lying out in the grass. Not being a camp counselor this summer has deprived me of my necessary dose of "outdoors time." I desperately miss swimming every day, lots of sunshine, and playing softball with my campers (always nice to play with people of your own skill level). I can feel my Vitamin D deficiency and look with horror at my still-transparent skin. Might as well have been living in an igloo for all the real summer I've experienced so far. Clearly visits to the family on long island are in order, but for this weekend Central Park will have to do. Anyone looking at a free weekend, please contact me and we can put together a picnic of some sort. I am determined to feel like it's summer at last!
There are 42 sprinklers in the office's ceiling and 15 broken light bulbs and one very ugly shade of carpet.
Kleenex makes a very good hat.
Monday, July 10, 2006
In a desperate attempt to stave off boredom here at the office I have decided to actually post on the blog account I created in order to comment on my friend Mara's blog while she is studying in Israel this year.
Sadly, the lack of interesting things to do at the office translates into a lack of interesting things about which to comment on a blog. Hmm, seems this web journal thing may be dead on arrival. However, it is relieving to note that I am hardly the only one without a thing to do at the office. Actually, I should ammend that. I do have something to do, but I really, REALLY, don't feel like doing it right now. And so I am not.
Weirdly, when I have absolutely nothing to occupy myself with, random words and phrases from books and movies get stuck in my head and float around constantly repeating themselves in my brain. Right now "Jean-Luc Gespa," a name said by Anjelina Jolie in Mr. & Mrs. Smith, and "rashers of bacon" which was in a book I recently read, are alternating in my head. I will surely go crazy if it doesn't stop.
Have played eight thousands games of solitaire, and that's just today. I can feel my eyes straining from all this staring at the computer screen, which hardly seems worth it as my solitaire skills have yet to improve. Have also read the New York Times from virtual cover to virtual cover, including the obituary of an old friend of my dad's who died last week. Paul Nelson, the recently deceased, was actually an incredibly interesting man who introduced Bob Dylan to Woody Guthrie, thus creating the famous Dylan sound and rock music history with a single vinyl record. Paul also reviewed music for several publications including Rolling Stone, and rather famously nourished himself solely with Coca Cola, peanut butter candies and cigarettes. There is hardly a person I can think that would have made a more fascinating anthropological subject.
I am still fighting off the last vestiges of a stubborn cold and have taken to deep-throated sneezing which creates this awful noise which almost sounds like an elephant trumpeting. It's really quite embarassing in such a small and quiet office. It also hurts.
The saving grace of the insane boredom and emptiness of the office is that I have plenty of interesting things to do after work this week. Tonight I have a ticket to a screening of the new Pirates of the Carribean movie, courtesy of the lovely Susan Wagner. I am terribly excited and especially love seeing movies with Susan and Liz because they clearly love films as much as I do, which makes discussing and analyzing the movies we see all the more fun. Tomorrow is equally exciting as recently-returned Annie is joining me for sushi and baseball (two of my absolute favorite things).
Oh! After being thoroughly soaked a week ago while on my way to work (and having to strip off my sodden shoes and jeans and wear a sweatshirt as if they were pants--thus creating an MC Hammer-like look) I am on the hunt for a pair of Wellington boots. However, being the picky fashion traditionalist that I am, I am being very particular in the style of boot. If anyone sees hunter green Wellies, preferably with an adjustible strap at the top, selling for less than a fortune, please let me know! So far, have found a nearly perfect pair on the LL Bean website, but they're out of stock until August.
La! But I am still so bored. I think I'll pour a pitcher of water down the mail chute.
Sadly, the lack of interesting things to do at the office translates into a lack of interesting things about which to comment on a blog. Hmm, seems this web journal thing may be dead on arrival. However, it is relieving to note that I am hardly the only one without a thing to do at the office. Actually, I should ammend that. I do have something to do, but I really, REALLY, don't feel like doing it right now. And so I am not.
Weirdly, when I have absolutely nothing to occupy myself with, random words and phrases from books and movies get stuck in my head and float around constantly repeating themselves in my brain. Right now "Jean-Luc Gespa," a name said by Anjelina Jolie in Mr. & Mrs. Smith, and "rashers of bacon" which was in a book I recently read, are alternating in my head. I will surely go crazy if it doesn't stop.
Have played eight thousands games of solitaire, and that's just today. I can feel my eyes straining from all this staring at the computer screen, which hardly seems worth it as my solitaire skills have yet to improve. Have also read the New York Times from virtual cover to virtual cover, including the obituary of an old friend of my dad's who died last week. Paul Nelson, the recently deceased, was actually an incredibly interesting man who introduced Bob Dylan to Woody Guthrie, thus creating the famous Dylan sound and rock music history with a single vinyl record. Paul also reviewed music for several publications including Rolling Stone, and rather famously nourished himself solely with Coca Cola, peanut butter candies and cigarettes. There is hardly a person I can think that would have made a more fascinating anthropological subject.
I am still fighting off the last vestiges of a stubborn cold and have taken to deep-throated sneezing which creates this awful noise which almost sounds like an elephant trumpeting. It's really quite embarassing in such a small and quiet office. It also hurts.
The saving grace of the insane boredom and emptiness of the office is that I have plenty of interesting things to do after work this week. Tonight I have a ticket to a screening of the new Pirates of the Carribean movie, courtesy of the lovely Susan Wagner. I am terribly excited and especially love seeing movies with Susan and Liz because they clearly love films as much as I do, which makes discussing and analyzing the movies we see all the more fun. Tomorrow is equally exciting as recently-returned Annie is joining me for sushi and baseball (two of my absolute favorite things).
Oh! After being thoroughly soaked a week ago while on my way to work (and having to strip off my sodden shoes and jeans and wear a sweatshirt as if they were pants--thus creating an MC Hammer-like look) I am on the hunt for a pair of Wellington boots. However, being the picky fashion traditionalist that I am, I am being very particular in the style of boot. If anyone sees hunter green Wellies, preferably with an adjustible strap at the top, selling for less than a fortune, please let me know! So far, have found a nearly perfect pair on the LL Bean website, but they're out of stock until August.
La! But I am still so bored. I think I'll pour a pitcher of water down the mail chute.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
