Plow Hazard

Came home the other day to find a "Plow Hazard" sign in front of my house.

It's a rather nice sign and I feel some sort of privilege to have it there. I thought I was being odd but then AJ confirmed that he also felt privileged to have the sign. So, unanimously, we feel special. I shall post a picture in the next day or so.

Yeah, Whatever

I've been lax. I admit that. A lot of stuff going on . Not an excuse, just the reality. Perhaps if I were 30, I would post more. But I'm not. I'm fuck near 40. That makes me slow.

In the last 6 months I've visited China and quit my job. Loved China. Will go back. Ended up not actually leaving my job. Didn't really want to leave anyway but, in the search for eternal happiness, these things happen.

I created a Facebook page today. I'm trying to process how I feel about that. On one hand I feel cheap. On the other, I have 7 friends right off the bat. Who would complain about that? I like it much better than MySpace already - it's much more mature. And I have more friends Feels like a Win-Win Sitch.

I'm listening to "Who Moved My Blackberry" on my long commute. It's affecting my speech, I think.

22.5 Better than my Bestest,
Mavis

I Quit!

So, I quit my job. My last day is November 9th. I will start a new job after that, at the hospital for which I used to work. Crazy world. Turns out this job will pay me MORE money to work LESS hours. And help me pay for school. Hmmmm...

Also this week, where the hell has the time gone? My kid is turning two. That is just plain not possible. I am quite sure he was just born. Do other parents feel this way?

Thank you Cleveland Indians for breaking my heart, again. Ever since you traded Omar, my return to the crazed fan that I once was has been tentative. Over the past season, you were playing good baseball and sucked me right in. I even went to a playoff game. Giddy with world series visions, on the cusp of deciding where I put my new wahoo tattoo when they win, my hopes and dreams are shattered by you sucky-ass playing when it counts. I should not be surprised, and I do not consider myself a fickle fan. But, time and time again, you break my heart.

Web Check

THINKS I DISLIKE:

Words	People	Foods
smear	Kathy Griffith	Brussel Sprouts
moist and pretty much most words that end in "oist"	Paris Hilton and all those people who look and act like her	Tripe
lime	John Henson	Liver

This is all subject to change, however, depending on what happens on Tuesday.

Best Date Ever

So, after the Steeler game on Sunday, the Br of Bruce said he wanted to take me to dinner on Thursday. He said he hadn’t taken me out in a while and we should go to Bebo, one of my favorite restaurants in the area. He is really swell, that Br.
Thursday arrives, and I get home from work. Br had an interview earlier in the day. He tells me that he’s keeping his nice clothes on, but ditching the tie for a sport coat. It's 80 degrees in DC. In my jeans, I’m feeling underdressed. But hey, who am I to tell someone how to dress for dinner.
We go to Bebo, and I’m overwhelmed by the menu and the pushy waiter who wants me to order a $62 bottle of wine. I settle on a $45 bottle of wine (still way expensive, but hey) and finally decide on food. Happy as a clam, I’m ready to enjoy our date. It’s a beautiful day outside and we’re sitting in/out by the folding walls.
Before I get my Caprese salad, Br pulls out a packet of little cards from his jacket. He says that he wanted to do something nice for me so he made these cards (orange no less) to tell me what he loves about me. Then he flips through the cards reading all the things he loves about me. Sweet things like “you’re adventuresome” and “you’re smart”. Sexy things like “your body” and “you’re sexy”. And even silly things like “you’re clumsy” and “you’re gassy”. There were more than 50 cards that he wrote, printed, and cut out. Just for me.
Then we ate delicious, delicious food and ordered dessert. Best date ever, right?
Not quite. While waiting for dessert, he informs me that not only did he get me something orange, but he also got me something shiny. He put a box on the table. I’m clueless, “what on earth could Br have gotten me?” Then I looked.
Yep, you guessed it. Probably more quickly than I did. He got me the most beautiful ring, crafted by a local designer that we had admired months ago. After I cried, and I mean created-a-spectacle-cried, I got up and kissed him. He said does that mean yes. And I said of course. Then I put the ring on the wrong finger, figured it out, put it on the right finger, said “We’re engaged!” and cried for another five minutes.
I did manage to compose myself enough to eat my tiramisu. mmmmm
We left the restaurant and I immediately needed to begin smoking again. I was too excited and my nerves were shot. I’ve been so very happy and I haven’t stopped giggling. For those in the know, I’m not clear yet, but I don’t care. I’m not letting anyone or anything keep me from being truly happy. And I am. Bruce is going to be around for a long, long time. Probably, forever.

HELP! Fear is taking over!

Ok, so I just found out that I am in the short list for a new job that has the potential to be my dream job. I could get my foot in the door now, and then when I graduate with my MSN be in a place where I really want to be. Sounds perfect, right? Wrong. Why is it that I somehow feel loyal to the asshole that I currently work for? The same asshole that has not given me a raise in over two years (that's right, TWO years) AND just told me on Friday how mad the other "girls" are that me and another nurse are taking classes. Even though I made sure the schedule is covered. Why the loyalty you ask? I HAVE NO CLUE. The very thought of changing jobs is giving me palpitations as we speak. I hate change. But I also hate my job. I like most of the people I work with and that bums me out. My head says "You have to do what is best for you" but my heart says "Don't leave". Maybe I am meant to stay where I am? Maybe it would be less stressful for now. I am going to school full time and it sucks ass. Grad school is so hard, I can't even believe how very little I am even comprehending. Is now the best time to change jobs? Someone out there help me!!!!!!!!!

Harry Potter Survey

I know there's a few of you out there - the Harry fans. Not hairy fans, although you might be hairy. Anyway, I thought this was fun. I'm sure it doesn't belong here and the serious blogger will consider me lesser, but too bad. Ha Ha.
What would be your Patronus?A Rhinoceros. Bet you couldn’t have guessed that one.
What would you want your wand to look like/be made out of?I would want it to look wandy.
If you could be an animagus what animal would you be?I would be a turtle, so I could play with our turtles, Rosencrantz & Guildenstern. I always wonder what they’re thinking swimming around in the tank all day.
Would you join the D.A?Of course.
Who was the character you hated the most in the books?Peter Pettigrew. He’s like the “pet friend” gone horribly awry. Nobody really likes the pet friend anyway.
Who was the character you loved the most?Hermione
What character are you most like and how?Hermione. I’m a geek with really good grades who, before braces, had some staggering buck teeth.
What house would you be in at Hogwarts?Ravenclaw, or maybe Griffindor.
What was your favorite store in hogsmeade or diagaon alley?Ollivanders
If you could play Quidditch what position would you play?I’d be a keeper. Except like Ron on a bad day I’d always let the quaffle in.
Would you honestly eat the kidney pie?Yep. I love meat.
Dark mark or D.A "Galleon"?Galleon. Of course, I’d probably lose it or forget it every time I was supposed to have it – Metrocard anyone?
What magic power or inheritance would you want the most?I have to copy my soon to be sister-in-law and go with Metamorphomagus like Tonks. Then I really could have a different hairstyle every day.
What magical creature was your favorite? Garden gnomes. (and crumple-horned snorkacks)
At the moment if you walked by the room of requirement what would it turn into?Divorce court
What would be your boggart?A sushi chef – I’m afraid because I don’t know how to order.
What was your reaction the the Ron and Hermionie "thing" in book 7?They work.
If Thestrals were real could you see one (meaning have you seen someone die)?I guess I’ve never really seen someone take his or her last breath, so I probably couldn’t see them.
What memory would play over and over again in your mind if a dementor got to near to you?Yikes! I don’t even want to think about it.
What would you see in the mirror of Erised?My dreams change daily. I’ve been told it’s both endearing and frustrating. Today, I’d see me, Brian, maybe a kid or two, travel, nanny (if kid is involved), great bands, and a scooter. I’m going through a me phase.
Are you Brave like Harry, Funny like Ron, or Intelligent like Hermionie?I would say intelligent like Hermione; however, I have been told that I am brave.
Which of the Deathly Hollows would you choose (the cloak, the stone, or the wand)?The cloak is the smart choice, but I’d probably want the wand.
Would you be a member of S.P.E.W.?Of course. I’d probably chair the petition drive.
Out of the Marauders map, Sirius's dagger, and a Sneakoscope, what would you choose?The Marauders map is cool, and I’d get to say I’m up to no good often.
What pet would you take with you to Hogwarts (toad, cat, owl, etc)?Probably a toad.
Who was your favorite teacher at Hogwarts?McGonagall for class; outside of class would be Snape, because I love Snape. I believe Alan Rickman has a lot to do with that.
What would be your Hex of choice?Tarantallegra. It makes people dance real fast – tee hee. I looked it up.
What subject would you like to teach at Hogwarts?Ancient Runes
On a scale of 1-10 (ten being the worst) how depressed are you that the series is over?totally
Which was the best movie so far?I believe Order of the Phoenix is the best. The 1984/Stalin/Hitlerific imagery is fantastic – look around boys and girls…..
Which character do you wish was real and you could befriend?Ginny. I think we two redheads would be awesome together. She would make me cooler.
Would you enter your name in the triwizard cup?Yes. Because I’m competitive and I need to win things and be recognized to be happy. Sad, but true.
Who do u want to marry or date?Well, I’d probably date Severus Snape. I’d find him darkly mysterious. I think it would be a really good idea to marry Neville Longbottom. He’s a heck of a guy, very brave, interesting, and sweet.

The Newest Rocket

Next week, I start graduate school. That is a causing me a small amount of anxiety. And by small I mean a lot. Not just am I starting school, but a school I have never been to before. The former Medical College of Ohio. For those of you who do not know this, the Medical College and the University of Toledo have merged, with both campuses becoming the University of Toledo. Even though I will not have classes on the UT main campus, the Medical College has all been renamed UT. So, as of Tuesday, I am officially a Toledo Rocket. Since I was first a Bowling Green Falcon, I have always had loyalty to the Falcons. I do attend at least one game per season, prior to Ben, it was more. Since the BG vs. UT rivalry was quite strong in the MAC, I feel very weird now. Like a traitor. I promise to always root for the Falcons and not to purchase any UT college gear. I hope Freddy and Frieda can forgive me.

locusts

I keep hearing the locusts (spelling?) in the trees with their fall buzzing sound. This always brings butterflies to the pit of my stomach as I associate the noise with going back to school and two words: performance anxiety. The thoughts of homework, tests, papers, and doing my best to get straight A's flash through my mind and I recollect how nervous I used to be about school. Summer soccer practices morning and afternoon, and running circles around the field after practice also come to mind. Working hard. Trying hard. Not a lot of fun. Always work.

I'm about to embark on my coaching career with a soccer team full of nine year old girls. I'm exhilarated to be a role model and to test out some theories, one of which is: the coach is an influential person. As I hear the locusts, the practice and game schedule is about to be released. Once again I'm faced with performance anxiety. Will I be good enough as a coach? Do I remember all the rules? Will the parents get in my face? Will the girls like me? One thing I know for certain, I will help them have fun and to like themselves no matter the outcomes of the games. And if any parents give me crap, I'll send them into the trees to chirp with the locusts.

Stage Diving

What does it mean when you're standing directly in front of a performer and he accuses you of being the one in the audience to begin stage diving? What about if the audience is composed mostly of 30-50 somethings on a Tuesday? Does it mean you're cool? Or does it mean you look like a drunken freak dancing around like a weirdo?
Maybe I should have stuck around and asked John Doe.

Closing the curtain on youth

In my 35 years, I've managed to:

Graduate high school
Make new friends
Graduate college
Care for pets
Date, have sex, break up (not necessarily in that order)
Get a crappy job
Get a real job, and more real jobs
Pay bills
Pay taxes
Deal with death
Speak in front of hundreds of people
Navigate health, car, home, and dental insurance
Get married
Graduate with a Masters
Buy a car
Buy a house
Sit on boards of directors
Fly across the country
Get a therapist
Get rid of a husband
Fall in love with someone I shouldn't have fallen in love with
Take public transportation
Manage subordinates
Be nice to my sister

All these things I have done. And yet, I mostly felt young, vibrant, fresh, stylish, hip, cool, and slightly irresponsible. But now, I may have crossed over to the dark side of grownupdom.

Tuesday night, on the way to the John Doe show at Iota, Bruce picked up a fabric shower curtain and liner. The shower curtain doesn't even have fishes on it. And it has a liner - a liner! What's wrong with one plastic curtain? Why desire two curtains? I always thought it was dumb, and yet, here I am. With two shower curtains that make me feel old.

I like it.

Rib Off Induced Malaise

Tonight is Rib Off Eve. It's a night that for the last 12 years has found me putting the finishing touches on what I believed to be the best BBQ sauce in the world. Time for printing out table tents, magnets, making t-shirts with my catchy new sauce name.

Instead I'm sitting here in the back yard, thinking about my study strategy for the upcoming MicroEcon/International Trade final exam. My thoughts are constant interrupted by fantasies of kicking Big Daddy's ass and winning First Place like I did that first year. Alas, it is not to be.(Cash has taken on a new importance to me and those tuition bills are a little more intimidating than they were the first time - I don't have as much time left to pay all of it off. )

The Rib Off, for those fans who are not familiar, is a yearly competition hosted by Chinese Chicken Salad in which a large number of our college friends convene in Bowling Green, Ohio with grills, racks of ribs, gallons of homemade bbq sauce and marketing materials. We eat a lot of pork, drink beer and compliment each other on how witty our sauce names are. Allegedly, he who makes the best sauce wins. (I say "allegedly" because I am bitter and paranoid.)

I haven't missed one in 11 years. All of my homework this week had to do with predicting volumes of pork sold and the price of pork sold. It was torture. Since I won't be there this year, these are my predictions for the winners (based on a complex multiple regression computer model with an R-square of .98799):

1. Big Daddy (he's not entering a sauce but hey, like that matters for him. He'll win because his wife is hot - like he always does.)
2. Someone from Columbus (Columbus always comes in second)
3. Someone I've never met.

Damn I'm going to have a hard time getting through the day tomorrow knowing what's going on and that I'm not there. The Rib Off is the only bright spot in this miserable existence known as "late thirties". I will drown my sorrows tonight as I sit here in my 2006 Rib Off T-shirt.

Team Cleveland (and all subsidiaries) ROCKS (still - even though they all have kids and shit).

General Malaise

What is it?
I'm having a period of general malaise. Things aren't bad. I'm not depressed. I've been back to the gym - Zumba woo hoo - and eating well; watching movies and going out; having a fantastic Harry Potter weekend; working hard; and yet, I'm just not feeling really in to it. Nothing seems all that terribly exciting. Maybe it's because my life was so darned exciting for the past few years that the comedown of (desired) normalcy seems kind of blah. Or maybe it's because I put off so many things for so long that I want to experience everything at once all the time. Or maybe this is what being an adult in your mid-thirties is all about and, although I thought I was ready to come down, I'm not.
Wow, this blogging is dangerous. What's that about the unexamined life.....maybe it's really the best way to live.

The Man I've Always Wanted to Be

I get a lot of spam. Lately I've been getting 3 or 4 spam emails a day offering to help me become the man I've apparently always wanted to be. It's kind of starting to bother me.

I've always been a tomboy. I have always preferred climbing trees, smoking cigarettes and drinking beer to putting on make up, wearing pink or got forbid, a skirt. Lately I've been trying to change some of that. I'm nearing 40 so I'm shying away from the tree climbing. However, I'm embracing the cigarette smoking and drinking beer more.....while wearing make up, pink, and skirts. (It's as confusing for me as it is for you - sometimes it even involves nail polish.)

So, this influx of spam asking me if I want to become the man I've always wanted to be has me in a bit of a quandary. How does the Internet know I'm a tomboy? And do they really think that makes me want to be a man? I like being a girl that can drink her husband under the table AND kick his ass in soccer. I don't want a penis. It'll just ruin everything. Do I write them back and tell them to email people I hate instead of me? Do I acquire a deep-seated self-hatred and begin to question my sexuality? What do I do?

Damn spam. Life used to be so simple.

David Beckham - Welcome to the US

I know, all the Summer fans are dying to know what I'll post today - the day that David Beckham officially held the LA Galaxy jersey for the first time (because you all know what a big fan I am).

I'll admit, I played into the hype. I waited until today to order my LA Galaxy David Beckham jersey (which is, incidentally, BACKORDERED) just so my sale would count toward the hype. I rushed home to watch the replays of the press conference. Tonight I wore my Manchester United Beckham jersey. Tomorrow I'll wear my Real Madrid Beckham jersey. I have the DVR set to record the Beckham reality show on Monday night.

He is a very good looking man.

Don't get me wrong - I love the futbol. I love Man United. I root for the USA and England in the World Cup. My dog is named Owen Beckham after Michael Owen and David Beckham. Until recently, I had a subscription to United magazine (the currency conversion got a little too heavy for me). I watch all the matches I can. I have people over for the significant matches - derbys and such.

I've also seen Beckham play for Manchester live, IN Manchester, which was cool. Is he the greatest? Probably not. Is he pretty fucking good? Hell yeah. I like that when people give him shit and try to make his life a living hell, he always rallies and does something amazing - becomes Captain of the English team after a horrible sending off in the World Cup, help his team win the Primera Liga in Espana after being told he was never going to play again. The man kicks ass. In a very unique-studied-by-physicists sort of way. I like that.

And he's very pretty.

Dead Pool Update

I received a text message today that required me to look through the old Summer blogs (back when we actually had readers that weren't just posters) that made me realize I have a responsibility to give an update on the Dead Pool given the death of Lady Bird Johnson.

Three people, two of whom are posters to this blog, participated in the Dead Pool for 2007. The picks were as follows:

Cookie's picks for 2007 (assuming these folks weren't already dead - because he has a habit of picking dead people): 1. Fidel Castro 2. Bea Arthur 3. B.B. King

My picks (Mavis B.) for 2007: 1. Abe Vigoda 2. Kirk Douglas 3. Fidel Castro Powerball: Jessica Simpson

Playing with the Squirrels picks: 1. Robert McNamara 2. Henry Kissinger 3. Queen Elizabeth II Powerball: Ann Coulter

All of these people (some of them unfortunately) are still alive (Ann Coulter, Jessica Simpson).

Because of low participation, I think we should have a New Year's In July celebration. If you read this blog, you have until Midnight, July 21st to comment to this entry (or any entry) on Have a Nice Summer and pick your Dead Pool Candidates. You can't pick anyone who dies between now and then.

The Grand Prize consists of Extreme Bragging Rights which includes Trash Talk and Insulting People's Mothers and Ethnic Heritage (only amongst your closest friends).

Rules, for the unfamiliar, are as follows:

WELCOME TO THE DEAD POOL

The concept is quite simple. To quote Stiffs.com, “Pick some famous people you think are going to die soon. Whoever gets the most right wins.”

You get to pick three famous people that you think are going to take the dirt nap in 2007. $10 used to get you three celebrity picks. For an additional $5 you could play the Powerball. Now it's just free on this blog.

The Rules

Definition of “Celebrity” or “Famous People” – For our purposes, these are defined as anyone whose death is listed in Time Magazine. Therefore, the list cannot include your grandmother, pet parakeet or favorite fifth grade teacher.

Under no circumstances may you encourage, pay for or participate in the death of any celebrity.

All ballots must be posted in a Comment on this blog by 11:59PM, July 21. Any ballots placed in any other unauthorized location, will be ineligible. .

Powerball Pick

The Powerball Pick is a Wild Card Celebrity – one that is not likely to die. For example, Phil Hartman or Ashley Olsen (but not Mary-Kate - she's Anorexic).

To qualify as a Powerball, a celebrity must meet ALL of the following criteria:
Under the age of 55.
No known drug or alcohol problems.
No known health problems.
No known risky behaviors (i.e. race car driving or crocodile hunting)
No blood relation to the Kennedy family (Example: If not for known drug usage, Schwarzenegger would be eligible. Maria Shriver would not.)
No Death Row Inmates.

(These Rules were written in 2002-2003. Funny they should mention Crocodile Hunting as a Risky Behavior. As we all know, it turns out that Stingrays were the ones to worry about.)

World Tour Update

Just in case anyone was wondering, I've surpassed the half-way mark on my World Tour of Beers and I'm rounding the corner on about 30 or so beers left (of 100). That's not to say I have only had 70 or so beers since January 17th, it's just saying that I've had 70 of them at a Winking Lizard. And I have a blanket to show for it. Which is more than most of you have to show for all the beer you've drank, so there.

The only bad beer I've had is a Shiner Bock. It's so bad I can't ever remember the name of it. I have to ask DMC every time. I think it was the only beer in my lifetime that tasted like I threw up in my mouth - before I actually threw up in my mouth. I couldn't drink another beer after it (which is odd, if you know me). I would go as far as to say it was.... traumatic. I may never recover.

Now, they say, "Don't Mess with Texas" but frankly, this is one time where I think Texas messed with me first. That beer sucks.

Thank God for Yuengling - although the company can't afford to ship their beer to Ohio (which is right next fucking door to Pennsylvania for the geographically retarded), at least they're only a two hour drive away. Since everyone from Ohio is from Pennsylvania anyway, there's also always someone heading that way who is willing to pick up a case or two for us. Now, at least that shit is tasty.

Why Yuengling is not on the tour is only because of the backward's intra-state trade crap between OH and PA (per the Winking Lizard Beer Dude via email). Or someone is a dumbass. One of the two.

Things I Hate/Love About My Backyard

1. Fucking baby raccoons. Why did they pick a tree in the corner of MY yard? Why didn't they pick one of the fifty fucking trees in a 1/2 block radius (which are much bigger and much higher and much more protective, in my opinion) that do not overhang a yard with two bark-o-matic Beagles? Fuckers, with their little hands. I hate them. I've hated them for a long time - since that altercation on South College in Bowling Green.

2. Leaf blower/yard tiller/car vacuum dude who lives behind me. He also has a couple of large, loud barking dogs. He runs his leaf blower/yard tiller/car vacuum ALL DAY Saturdays and Sundays. And his stupid barking dogs aggravate the......bark-o-matic Beagles in MY yard. And yet he has the nerve to distribute a flyer in the neighborhood with a picture of a Beagle that looks remarkably like Owen Beckham with the heading: "LOST DOG: TASTES LIKE CHICKEN." Fucker.

3. Stupid Momma Birds that throw their babies out of the nest too soon. This makes it MY responsibility to chase the little fuckers around the yard, coaching them on, saying "You can do it!" I swear the baby bird last night was talking back to me. Desperately, I do this for a couple hours because I don't want the Beagles to eat them. Like they do all the baby bunnies.

4. Baby Bunnies. Why have your babies in my BACK yard you dumb ass rabbits. You know the survival rate is 2 of 3 based on the last 3 years. And that's only because of my intervention. Aren't all the dead moles/voles an indication?

5. Moles/Voles. I don't know the difference. I just know something like them seem to die a lot in my yard. They're mutilated so I can't tell if there are eyes or not. (I think no eyes means their voles.) Anyway, just before I find a dead one, I find a portion of the garden torn to shreds. Coincidence? I think not.

Things I Like About My Yard:
1. Perennials - Finally, all the flowers with none of the work. And less mulching.

2. Awesome Patio - with fireplace, where I am sitting right now using my wireless internet at 9:30 at night, drinking beer and writing a blog.

3. Fence. Hides big fat guy with a hot tub next door. Don't want to see that. Also hides me in my pool.

4. Pool. Blow up, 18" deep, with cup holders. I think DMC bought it because of the big boobed woman on the box but hey, I'm not complaining. I think I've increased a cup size just today, given the tan factor and the illusion of 3-d that accompanies it.

5. Toads. I like 'em. They're cute. There's a couple different kinds. They don't pee on me now that I'm older. The dogs don't eat them. If you step on them, they don't seem to mind. They don't get squished - you just pick them up and move 'em elsewhere. Very nice.

Finally, reality TV I will watch!

I just saw an ad for a new reality tv show that I may actually watch. It premieres this Sunday July 15 at 10:30 on VH-1. Are you ready for it......."Scott Baio is 45 and single". That's all I am going to say.

Morrissey, or being an old fart

Last night I saw Morrissey at Wolftrap (beautiful venue). It was a surprisingly good show. He was beautiful and suave, very Morrissey-like in his almost Bryan Ferry way. Took his shirt off to reveal middle-aged hairy chest. Still kind of sexy, though.
Anyway, he was playing a few old numbers (read: Smiths) that I love and know well. The crowd, mostly old folks like me, were in the same boat.
Here's where I have my problem. Although I like much of the newer Morrissey stuff (see First of the Gang to Die, You Have Killed Me), I'm particulary attached to songs like How Soon is Now or Please Let Me Get What I Want. But, does it make Morrissey feel bad when we're all excited for material he released decades ago and provide a mediocre response to new material that I expect he's proud of and worked hard on. You see, it's even worse, because Morrissey is a really generous performer. He touched practically everyone in the first three rows and accepted cards and notes from all who delivered them. He even put them in his pocket or displayed them against the drum kit. It was really nice (although I think it's weird that people want to pass Morrissey a note at the concert).
For myself, although you could certainly see the excitement in my body language when one of my favorite old songs came on, I tried to applaud equally throughout, showing my appreciation for all of his work. Think of how sad you would feel if everyone thought you peaked in 1985. Morrissey is sad enough already.
Partial set list of songs I recognized well:
The Queen is Dead
Last of the Famous International Playboys
You Have Killed Me
Girlfriend in a Coma
Everyday is like Sunday
Boy with aThorn in his Side
Please Let Me Get What I Want
First of the Gang to Die
How Soon is Now

Holiday Bliss

The day before the holiday is not the appropriate time to phone your doctor's office in a state of panic because you can't count your fucking vicodin. We have heard all your excuses, lost the prescription in a fire, it was stolen, I dropped them in the toilet, my mom took them, and we don't believe anything you say. Next time, prepare for the future by letting us know before you have ONE pill left. This is not hard to do. When you see the number of pills dwindling away, call us then. Your lack of planning is not my emergency. Have a nice holiday, you drug addicted jackasses. God, I love my job.

have a nice life

I keep backspacing over things i'd like to write here. I need to grow my bloglegs i guess.
I'll start with a poem.

I hear the waves shift to shore,
Distant movements
bring my energy to the fore.
My whole life in one wave
is starting to feel
like one big i gave.
Watching the sun move
slyly behind the tree,
tells me don't effort to prove.
My whole life in another wave
looks like
an arduous journey i did pave.
Smelling the sweet wood
rot on the drift
I know even decompensation is good.
My whole life in a wave
will always be
overcoming death with much to save.

Geek Radio

So, I'm enjoying a nice fire in my backyard fireplace, listening to the local college radio station (wbwc at Baldwin-Wallace) and the name of the show is The Garage - Geek Radio. DMC and I are drinking Yuengling (all varieties-Black and Tan, Light, Regular and Lord Chesterfield).

The DJ starts talking about some cable show and the fact that it named an episode, "Fear, Itself". I thought, "Gee, that's the title of a Buffy the Vampire Slayer Episode." I immediately feel embarrassed because I know that. Yet, I'm not ashamed that I love BTVS. In fact, I'm currently purchasing the Episode 8 Comic Books as close to the date of their release as I can. This was the first comic book I ever purchased (and I was inclined to tell the comic book geek at the counter that when I bought it.)

Anyway, the radio geek goes on to explain that this cable show purposefully named their episode after the Buffy episode. I felt geeky because I had already called that. Then I remembered that I named the blog after a Buffy episode. I felt more geeky.

I suck.

Really, I can't hardly wait

This isn't the reason my id is "can't hardly wait" but now it fits.
I just found out yesterday that my attorney is recommending I wait until October to petition the court to grant my divorce over the objections of the husband. I hate typing it. I hate still being married to him.
I acknowledge that I'm involved in why things went bad. I didn't pull my weight in the right places. I let things go so far that there was no way to bring them back once I realized they'd gone too far. I take responsibility, I do.
But I thought I was going to be able to be done this August. I determined the pennance of two years was good for me. It forced me to refrain from any too-sudden movements (I like to be impulsive) and forced me to really reflect on what happened, where I went wrong, what I really want from a partner, and what I really want from a life. Sometimes I'm truly surprised at who I am. I mean, I like her, she's just not exactly who I thought she would be.
All this is good, right? But I still was so looking forward to being done with the whole process.
I know nobody wants to hear about divorce. It's painful and messy and weird and brings up all sorts of possibilities nobody likes to think about. So I'll shut up. After I whine one more time: I can't hardly wait.

DMC and Alcohol, Part II

It's not like living with somone one crack. That was an insensitive remark.

DMC cleans and pays bill and shit. And he still has all his teeth.

Erika Meitner

Please check out the Erika Meitner page under Cool Links. She is my Cousin-in-Law and she rocks. If you know me, you know I'm a big Bukowski fan. Erika has a very feminine way of observing things in a Bukowski-esque way. If she drank more and was less responsible, she would be a fantastic fucking degenerate poet. As it is, she has to settle for just being a fantastic fucking poet. Her husband (DMC's cousin) is an Economist. We tried to get him to write our presentations for us this weekend (on the UK and.....Lithuania) and he claimed he was not familiar with the economies of the countries we had chosen. We knew he was lying.

Wred Fright also has a Poetry reading coming up, which you can read all about on his site. Wred Fright is also a fantastic fucking poet. However, I've known him a long time so I still read his poetry trying to figure out if I know what he is literally writing about. You should go see him read. His wife is hot.

All the awesome poetry makes me wish Playing with the Squirrels would get off his ass and write something instead of just teaching, teaching, teaching, procreating, teaching all the time. And just why won't he name his son after noted biographer Hesketh Pearson? I just don't know.

DMC and Alcohol

We had a Midterm exam today so we are rewarding ourselves. I'm just bitter and edgy but DMC has lost his mind.

So far tonight:

• I've been chastised for using all of the new ink cartridges for our printer by printing out an overly blue-I-mean-Cyan Powerpoint presentation. Chastised in a this-is-not-real-he-can't-be-that-concerned-about-this sort of way.
• I've been told that Jesus is coming back and he's going to be a pot-smoker (as indicated by Bon Jovi reaching their first Number 1 Album since 1988 today).
• He promised my mom he'd come and install Microsoft Office for Macs on her computer Saturday in exchange for some weeding and accompanying us to dinner at the Winking Lizard.
• Lots of talking to the iPod in attempt to bring it back to life.
• Lots of talking to the pets trying to get them to fix the iPod.

It's like living with someone on crack. And he thinks I am the crazy one..

Business School Ain't All That Bad

Last semester I got to do a presentation on the Australian wine company (BRL, now owned by Constellation Wines) that invented the Wine-In-A-Box. Yes, I did call it "Mommy's Juice Box" in front of the class. I worked in a reference to Mad Dog in that one too.

Moments ago I finished an Economics presentation and paper on the Scotch whisky industry in the UK, with a focus on Diageo - owners of Guinness (it's no longer Irish!!) and producers of such greats as Lagavulin, Oban and Knockando.

I'm going to go have me some scotch and a smoke.

PS - Those Scots are smart - there are actually laws in the UK ...and the EU that state that Scotch whisky can only be made in Scotland. Genius. (Of course, that vodka lobby has a ways to go to catch up.)

PSS - Today's featured article on Wikipedia is on Slayer. That there is some intellectual content.

New blog

New blog

Wrecked Almond (formerly known as Mavis B.)

On the eve of my 39th birthday, I'm feeling a little blue and out of sorts. I should be happy. My parents crafted me a beautiful cornhole set and my mom made me a Red Velvet doll cake this year (photo to follow soon). I even made good progress on my Econ project.

I still feel poopy so I thought playing some games on MSN would cheer me up. So I tried to sign up and I had to finally give up and pick one of their suggested nicknames: WreckedAlmond.

What does that say about me? I'm a Nut, obviously. And I'm Wrecked. Tell me something I don't already know. Blah. At least I'm not 40.

Graduation,Grad school,Gone Daddy Finch, & misc

Well, I finally graduated. The sweet, sweet irony is that even with the B- dropping my GPA below "summa cum laude" status, they read it as such at graduation. That's all I care about anyway. To hell with you Dr. Gallgher and your "B-". I worked my ass off if your class. Graduation was fun, one of my friends planned a semi-surprise party to help celebrate which was nice. Friends are great.

Also, finally received my letter accepting me into graduate school. I start in the fall. I won a scholarship for grad school that is based on me being full time. I was told full time in grad school is 6 hours. 'Tis not the case at UT. you need to be 12 hours for full time status. So, now what the heck do I do? If I go less then 12 hours I will forfeit the scholarship. 12 hours seems like a lot to take on, and work, and take care of a child. Hmmm.....Why does everything have to darn complicated?

The other day I loaded some new stuff on my spiffy new iPod. One of the things I put on there were the two Gone Daddy Finch cd's. While listening in my car, some of those songs cycled through and I realized how much they rocked. It made me sad for those days when all of us were together more frequently and we could (and did) party every weekend. Man those were such good times. Not that times are bad now, I realize being 24-25 years old cannot last forever, but I can still miss it, right??

In other news I want to take a vacation this summer and have no clue where to go. I want to go close enough to drive with the child, no plane trips please. Anyone have any thoughts on this? I would love some suggestions!!

My dog killed a baby rabbit over memorial day and I finally realized that I care about critters more than I care about most of my patients. Does that make me a bad nurse? Or maybe it means that most of our clientele are schmucks. I think the latter. Sometimes our patients just make me sad. Someone told me they had a cold and when I asked what their symptoms were her response was "I don't you mean, that is too big of a word". Sigh.

I am hoping that folks are coming to the rib off, although I do not plan on competing, unless you consider drinking competing, I do plan on drinking my fair share.

Mmmm...beer.....and ribs......

In Da Tub

I love to bathe, especially with my Jacuzzi tub. The tub was a big investment when we bought the house and had to have the horrible 70's bathroom redone. I strongly recommend avoiding velvet wallpaper in your bathroom, if it's an option.

I have an open door policy when it comes to my baths. Reason is, the pets love to visit me while I'm in the tub. DMC also visits while I bathe. I like to sing in the tub too. The open door policy forces me to come up with some interesting tunes to pass the time. Here are some of them:

For Kodi, my cat, I sing "Kodilicious" to the tune of "Fergilicious". I used to sing "Kodilicious" to "Bootylicious" but, you have to keep up with the times. Kodi HATES the "Fergilicious" version. He's somewhat of a bastard. Beats up the dogs. He gives me dirty looks when I sing his new song.

Buster, also a cat, gets "Buster of Puppets" sung to the tune of "Master of Puppets". He seems to like it. He's sort of a....."pussy" pussy (if you catch my drift) and I think the metal makes him feel tough.

Owen Beckham is a Beagle and I sing him a tune to "Frere Jacques". He's a World Cup 2002 baby and I love England. Thus, he gets the name. I can't explain the song.

Abbie gets some song about a girl named Gina, but I change the name to Abbie. It may be Nat King Cole or Johnny Mathis. She doesn't care for it and doesn't hang out long if I sing it.

Casper, a white Persian, recently completely shaved, gets Der Kommisar. Because I imagine Casper was meant to be spelled with a K.

Sheba, aka "Fatone" or, Fat One. She doesn't ever visit so she doesn't get a song. If she did, it would have to be N'Sync.

DMC gets "You Are the Sunshine of My Life" most often.

If I'm having a very good day, I just roll through them all and start singing an old college favorite.....

"Kodi is my friend, oh Kodi is my friend. Wherever I go, Kodi goes, Kodi is my friend."
"Buster is my friend, oh Buster is my friend. Wherever I go, Buster goes, Buster is my friend."

And so on.

I've tried to add a version of 50 Cent "In Da Club" (called "In Da Tub" - which is probably already on Sesame Street) but I only know the chorus so it hasn't gone well.

More Bullets

Since, despite my intentions, I'm a Drive-By Blogger, here's some more Bullet Points:

Serious Note:
Virginia Tech: Horrible, yes. I'm hoping that it will be a wake-up call for the US to start treating mental illness with the same respect as physical illness. It could have been prevented.

(In all honesty, it's probably cheaper to treat. I haven't been to the doctor in over a year for anything since seeing a therapist and being treated for a couple things (gotta love OCD). Haven't even had an issue with my asthma. What does that tell you?

Less Serious Notes:

Betty Boop: Not interesting. Don't understand it. I followed a minivan today with the vanity plates: BBOOP and no less than 4 Betty Boop stickers/bumper stickers. Why? I don't get it. I like some weird shit and I'm pretty enthusiastic about it but Betty Boop?

Automatic bathroom fixtures are confusing. I go to the bathroom and forget to flush. I hold my hand under the faucet to wash my hands and a minute later realize I need to actually physically turn on the faucet. I walk past a paper towel machine and paper towels spew out - but when I need one, I keep waving my hands past the spot and get nothing.

Personal Day. I took a Personal Day this week. I made an emergency visit to the Vet to have my long haired Persian stitched up after an unfortunate matted hair removal accident (he now looks like like a cartoon cat), I had the best Authentic Cuban Sandwich in Cleveland at Lorelei n West 25th, drank fantastic teas at the Monastery Tea House, went to Great Lakes Brewing and watched American Goalie Tim Howard play for Everton for a few minutes before going to the Old Angle Tavern to watch Man Utd draw with Chelsea. It was a beautiful day. Damn near perfect.

Bowling Green Falcons and Urban Outfitters. DMC purchased a Bowling Green State University Falcons T-shirt at Urban Outfitters in Crocker Park for $15. It had to be bought. When did the rest of the world discover Bowling Green is cool? Why was the shirt cheaper there than at the University Bookstore? The cashier asked us if we went to BG and we said, "Yes, and now it's cool enough we can buy a T-shirt at Urban Outfitters." (I say all this even though we're now BW Yellow Jackets.)

Sexual Euphemisms. Also bought a book called "The Contemporary Dictionary of Sexual Euphemisms" by Jordan Tate at the Urban Outfitters. I now know what "shooting putty at the moon" means.

GPA. Grades were posted today. Mines 3.982 and DMC's is 4.0. I hate him. However, if he gets A's, we don't have to pay for his school. We have to pay for mine no matter what. So, his GPA is clearly more important than mine.

David Beckham. Won an E-bay auction for a Real Madrid Beckham shirt. Will buy an LA Galaxy shirt. Have a Man Utd shirt. Goddamn. He's hot. Also won a Hesketh Golf Club golf ball auction for a Father's Day gift. Hesketh's are hot too.

Manchester United. Barclay's Premier League Champions. Watch the ceremony Saturday on Fox Soccer Channel, around noon EST.

The Emerald City and more....

Recently, I had the opportunity to visit Seattle, Washington. Has anyone ever been? It is a beautiful place! Now, I certainly do not consider myself a world traveler. Although, I have been to Hawaii and Mexico. I loved Seattle for so many reasons. First, people were nice. That's right, nice. When you found yourself in the wrong lane, and put on your blinker, someone always let you in! People were friendly everywhere we went. The fish market where they toss the fish, was a true sight to see! The city was clean and green, green, green. No litter or cigarette butts lying around. The highways had lush foliage on the overpasses. It was like nothing I had ever seen. We also had the chance to see Vancouver Canada, which I also liked. Again, it was just so beautiful. If anyone gets a chance to visit these places, please do so. You will not be sorry. It makes you remember that people can still be nice, and cities can be a busy place and still be beautiful.

Mavis said some wonderful things about her friends, didn't she? One thing I must add is that I would never have been able to accomplish my goals without the support of friends. I too, have so much respect for everyone and the paths we all have chosen to follow. My friends are the ones who are always telling me I can go on, even when I begin to question why I am bothering. Of course, my husband has a big part in this too. I would never have even gone to nursing school, if he hadn't been rooting for me the whole time.

It is interesting to me, how much different school is now that I am older. It matters so much more now, when I really don't *need* it. I have a job, it pays well, I do not need any other schooling. But, I have a goal and to reach it, it requires a masters degree. School is interesting to me and I work really hard to do well. B's vex me terribly. I did earn a "B" in research, a "B-" in fact (Who gets a B- in college?). This is my lowest grade to date. During my time at BGSU, I rarely saw B's. So this is quite different. I hope I can start grad school in the fall, and I hope that I will continue to do well. I know with my friends all behind me, it will be hard not to. I love you all for that. Thank you.

NursePez

It's funny she (NursePez) should post about her school stress (finally). She's been going to school forever - even while pregnant. Meanwhile, I kept coming up with reasons why I couldn't go. It was too much time, too much stress, too much work, etc. Mind you, I have no responsibility. Granted, I work but, my work is very supportive of school. I only have pets and, unless I abuse them publicly, no one cares. There really was no excuse for me not to go back to school.

Then I saw NursePez sitting on her couch, books open all around her with her 8 month or more belly all over the place. I realized I was a true pussy compared to her. If she could do it while working full time and carrying a new life in her belly, surely I could do it too. (FYI-I can say "pussy" because I've seen the Vagina Monologues. I can say "cunt" too. Just test me.That show is very freeing).

Thinking of NursePez sitting on her couch with all those books is why I got my ass into grad school. While I'm not all that interested in some aspects of business (ie Finance), I love school and I feel good about having taken on the challenge. It was something I had to do. (Also fyi - love my school. Didn't realize MBA programs could have so many Dems teaching. I know I vowed to avoid politics but, come on. Dems teaching MBA classes? That's notable.)

I want to live with few regrets. NursePez has influenced me to eliminate one. Playing with Squirrels has influenced me in many Buddha ways. Chinese Chicken Salad has taught me a lot about being myself. Can't Hardly Wait has taught me about contradictions - what people expect and having the courage to go against that. Check out the Wred Fright and Dave Demerjian links. If you can't tell from this blog, I worship my friends. They are all amazing and I have no idea why they hang out with me. Shock and Awe. Really.

Now when it comes to what really matters -the World Tour of Beers at Winking Lizard - I need help. We're coming up on June and I am not even half way. I'm in the midst of 3 weeks off of school and we are planning two weekends in a row at the Lizard. However, I can only drink 3-4 beers at a time. That's not going to get me anywhere fast. Since I'm approaching this with the same level of committment as my MBA, I'm feeling like a failure. I may cheat. I have considered taking my employees to the Lizard and offering to buy them beers, as long as they are on my list. I don't need to make the 100 - I just want the free T-shirt for 50. A few years ago this would have been nothing. I'm so embarrassed.

Three Weeks and Counting

Three weeks to go until school is out. Eleven short days until I leave for Seattle without spouse or child. It would seem the light is, in fact, visible at the end of the tunnel. Since, graduation is also right around the corner, it would seem that these instructors would begin to ease up on the reigns of scholastic torture. Alas, 'tis not the case. I have one professor who is an giant pain in the ass. With three weeks to go, she is the only teacher not giving one inch on class work. Every week we have postings on line and she insists on making these postings the most time consuming questions known to man. So much so that this past week, the information was not even in our books. You had to search and search on line for correct information. To top it off, this is a research class. We have a paper due in one week that eight people are working together on (that's right, 8). This is also a giant pain in the ass. Eight people who all work and go to school AND have families. Try to coordinate that schedule. Anyway, it vexes me terribly that she is so freaking demanding. Plus, she is the only teacher who is a PhD who insists on being called "doctor". I have another professor who is a PhD who insists we call her by her first name, as many of us in the class are already nurses. It seems too ego-mania to me. But I could be wrong. Everyone deserves their props, I suppose.

Plus she yelled at me and said I was not dressed appropriately at clinical. I was dressed in dark grey cords and a black turtle neck sweater and black dress shoes with a white ironed lab coat. I am not sure why this was considered inappropriate. This has never been an issue before. So, I dislike her on many levels.

So, because of this class, my perfect GPA is in danger and I am starting not to care. "B"s get degrees to, right?

Three weeks to go. That is what I keep telling myself. Three weeks 'till I get that degree. Grad school awaits, provided they take me with a "B" in freaking research.

Bullet Points

I've been neglectful. So, bulletpoints.

• Good Friday was a disappointment. Did not get to uphold my traditions due to the snowstorm. Ended up getting drunk at the in-laws. However, I was able to uphold my tradition of avoiding church for the entire weekend.
• I'm sadly behind on my Winking Lizard World Tour of Beers. School has been much harder than anticipated and I have not been able to keep up. I. am. old.
• DMC clearly can't hold his beer - when that beer consists of half Founder's Breakfast Ale and half Dogfish 120 Minute IPA. He's pink as a baby's butt right now and very, very drunk.
• Today at work I spent a good bit of time digging around the attic of a very old building. I got to see some old paintings, some old baseball uniforms and the skeleton of a red squirrel (yes, I did poke it with a stick).
• I moved into a new office with a fireplace and a couch. It's the coolest office in the entire agency.
• Manchester United is 3 points ahead in the Premier League, they just beat Roma 7-1 and they resigned Cristiano Ronaldo for 5 years. The Beautiful Sport is, for me, Beautiful right now. Except for all that Pay Per View/Setanta bullshit. I can't watch any matches. Fuckers.
• I WILL watch Becks play for the LA Galaxy but I support the Columbus Crew.
• I'm attending a formal event in a couple weeks and I'm anxiously looking forward to shopping for a dress because....I am a woman.

Which brings me to one final observation/comment on the week. Don Imus.

My opinion (and everyone is free to disagree completely) is that Imus would have said something offensive regardless of the race of the Rutger's team. Women's basketball is very aggressive and very physical. Any tattooed team of women would have garnered some sort of insult from Imus. And all of the men who were so offended and so busy demanding an apology, would have uttered the exact same sort of insult if they were sitting around their big screen TVs watching the same fucking game.

Don't get me wrong. When it comes to tearing people down, black females are at the bottom of the totem pole. And that is a horrible thing because we're discounting one of the richest, most regal, and strongest parts of our population. But I really think this was, at its base, a woman thing.

Big Announcement

I am posting the news here first as an exclusive for all of the faithful readers of Have a nice summer, which, from recent comments, would seem to consist of Mavis and myself.

My wife and I are expecting! My lovely wife just entered her second trimester, which means the wee one should arrive (well, emerge) around the end of September or beginning of October. Our child seems to be destined to be a Libra (who will hopefully balance us) and I'm going to hazard a guess s/he will be left-handed, as seemingly every Libra I know is left-handed (to balance out how ridiculously right-wing our leaders, if not our nation, are?--sorry Mavis, I know you wanted to keep this blog politics-free).

We don't know the sex yet so names are on the back-burner for now. I'm kind of fond of Ganesh, although my wife is not so sure we should be naming our child after other people's gods. I think she may actually believe in karma. I hope for my sake it doesn't exist--I just killed the first fly of the season and I've already been battling the ants. I love all creatures just so long as they stay out of my house.

We may not be able to make the trek north this year since the wee one will be so wee, but we'll definitely send pictures, although we do plan on coming north at the end of June for my parents' 50th anniversary.

Really, maybe we should name the child after my friend Tasnima, a new mother herself, who sent her "have baby" blessings when we were weren't sure we would succeed.

I'm not sure I have the same powers as Tasnima, but for anyone out there who wants them, I send my "have baby" blessings, too.

Here Kitty, Kitty, Kitty, Kitty, Kitty, Kitty

Last Sunday I went to a preparation class for our trip to China in August. We discussed the itinerary, which will include the Great Wall, many Buddhist temples and Imperial Gardens. Afterwards, I went home and watched "Borat". I was particularly entertained by the wrestling scene with the naked fat man.

On Tuesday, I came home from work and watched "Stranger than Fiction". The movie is about an IRS agent who is obsessed with numbers. He counts everything, including steps. After the movie, I took my recently increased dosage anti-anxiety medication and went to bed.

That night I dreamed that I was climbing the Great Wall and getting in trouble with school because I kept miscounting the steps. (I kept forgetting to start at zero, versus starting with one.) When we were done counting steps, we went into an Imperial garden with a beautiful waterfall. Under the waterfall there was a man in a giant flesh-colored, naked Happy Buddha fat suit. He was dancing very much like Harvey Keitel in the "The Bad Lieutenant".

I know where all of this came from, most of it's obvious. But, what does it mean? Is a naked Buddha in a flesh-colored fat suit just a naked Buddha in a flesh-colored fat suit? Or is it a cigar?

Roots

I went to PA last weekend for an uncle's funeral. I say "an uncle" because I have many - my dad is the youngest of 17 children, 14 of whom lived to adulthood. I am the 58th grandchild of my grandparents on my dad's side. It's a miracle my grandma knew who I was (she did too). I have my dad's brothers (3 left) and my aunt's husbands (2 left, 1 new one coming in May).

Last weekend was notable for several things.
1) Yuengling. The oldest brewery in the US. Good beer. I've had the oldest in England (Young's) and the oldest in the US. I had manyYuengling's and enjoyed them all.

2) Johnstown Brewing Company where I bought growlers of South Fork Dam Beer and Steelworker's Oatmeal Stout. I just really liked telling everyone I was going to buy some Dam Beer. Repeatedly.

3) Dinner at Cityview on top of the Inclined Plane (steepest in the world). You can view the City of Johnstown, Flood City USA in all its glory.

4) George's Song Shop, the longest running music store in the United States (songs sorted by record label.) I bought Wall of Voodoo "Mexican Radio", a Buzzcocks 45, REM "Bandwagon"/"Can't Get There from Here" and Dinah Washington's "September in the Rain".

5) Uncle Sonny gave me my grandmother's personal photo album (which I got to go through with my aunts and uncles) AND his box of 77 Johnstown Flood memorabilia.

6) Quality time with my parents which included enjoying them enjoying satellite radio. And a Cadillac CTS that they don't know how to operate (too computerized). Quite a trip.

I'll write more tomorrow but DMC's looking like he wants company.

My Top 5 Karaoke Tunes

1. Night the Lights Went Out in Georgia (Vicki Lawrence)
2. Don't Come Home A-Drinkin' With Lovin' On Your Mind (Loretta Lynn)
3. Billie Don't Be a Hero (Bo Donaldson & the Heywoods)
4. Night Chicago Died (Paper Lace)
5. Fairytale of New York (Pogues) -duet with DMC

The Power of Alcohol

A lot of things come to mind when drinking. Which is why I think Friday nights are so inspiring to me blog-wise.

DMC and I are currently drinking beer and singing karaoke. Alone. Freaky, I know. Right now he's singing "The More You Ignore Me" by Morrissey - a personal favorite of PWTS. I just sang "King Herod's Song" from Jesus Christ Superstar.

We have a whole JCS Karaoke disk. Generally, we've discovered that people are not entertained by a performance of the whole disc - even if you use props of available bread and wine.

I started playing the Jesus Christ Superstar soundtrack today. It's a personal Lenten tradition of mine. I've blogged of this previously. While I'm not a very religious person, every year I start listening to Jesus Christ Superstar during Lent. I listen to it almost exclusively during the Lenten season and this tradition culminates with the All Day Good Friday Drink Fest. I drink a lot on Good Friday. It's my tradition.

When I was growing up, the grandfather of a good friend of mine used to give the special Good Friday sermon at my Lutheran church. The grandfather was a good preacher - he had Fire and Brimstone potential. It was my favorite service of the entire church year. Easter Sunday with its Lilies and Pancake Breakfast seemed like a cheap let-down after the morbid, somber, Good Friday service.

Anyway, I haven't gone to church on Good Friday since my friend's grandfather died. It's just not the same so I had to come up with my own tradition. Thus, the JCS. Then PTWS moved in with me. That started the Good Friday drinking. I loved walking home from work early on a Good Friday to find PWTS sitting on my porch with a cold beer waiting. The first warm sunny day of spring. Now I look forward to it every year. I'm always disappointed to find that PWTS and his lovely wife aren't sitting on my stoop waiting for me but, I get drunk just the same.

This year will be interesting because we're also going to have Spring Break in there. Being a first year Grad Student, I haven't had Spring Break in 15 years. This year I plan to run around the house shirtless for the entire week. There may be photos involved. If any look good, I may post them on the blog. I don't think there are too many people left who haven't either seen my breasts in person or in a photo (unexpectedly developed with their wedding photos or child's birthday pictures) but still. It's SPRING BREAK. WHOO HOO. Boobies for all. That's the point, right?

World Tour Beers 8-10

Several topics for this evening:

1. I started smoking again. I am weak and pathetic. And ashamed.

2. Traquair House Ale is very, very delicious. One of the best beers I've ever had. Unfortunately, the high alcohol content kicked my ass and I had to drink shit afterwards. It was worth it.

3. DMC and I bought a pack of cigarettes after our night on the town and it took us.....(I said 20 minutes, he said 5) to figure out that we were driving a Jeep with a lighter in the dashboard. These fancy modern-day anti-smoker cars have me all fucked up. At least we knew about the real ashtray.

Time spent trying to get a cold, empty Bic lighter to light.....wasted. It was a delicious cigarette though.

4. Great deal of snow in Cleveland this week. So much that I realized my desire to own a vehicle that I could use to drive over top of other vehicles was worthwhile. In the Jeep, I could see over the snow piles/drifts at the intersections. DMC, in his Nazi-mobile, was not able to see the oncoming traffic over the snow. In the Jeep, I am TALL and IMPORTANT. I just don't drive like I am. No need to be ostentatious.

Trainspotting in Cleveland

I'm trying to quit smoking (again) and I'm having a rough time. I have moments when I feel like a heroin junkie going through withdrawal. I keep thinking of that scene in Trainspotting with the baby crawling across the ceiling. I hope the patch does not cause me to dream about that tonight.

I've also thought about the Trainspotting scene with the disgusting toilet. I've been using that as a point of reference. Clearly I'm not that much of an addict. If a pack of cigarettes were to be floating in that toilet, I would not retrieve them.

At least I don't think I would. Not if they were menthol, anyway.

We'll see how I feel tomorrow.

Stench of Capitalism

I have really enjoyed shopping lately and I feel very guilty about that. I've always prided myself on not caring what I looked like, not being impressed by labels, etc. However, in the last year I've been exploring my feminine side (which has been long neglected). I've been wearing a lot of pink, wearing clothes that fit. I even wear a skirt now and again. And nail polish. These are big steps for a tomboy like myself. I own a Coach purse. This is serious shit.

Anyway, today I went into the Ambercrombie and Fitch in our suburban fake downtown for the first time. I've been afraid to go in there because during the grand opening, they had an attractive young man with no shirt standing outside the door and that made me uncomfortable (I blame that on being raised Protestant). DMC needs a very specific size pants to fit his mutant-like frame (30 x 34) and we thought maybe we could find some there.

Turns out, Abercrombie and Fitch smells like every person I have ever instantly hated ever in my entire life. It reeks of assholeness. And that stink clung to me for hours - even whilst I ate my Red Snapper Nagiri sushi several hours later.

So, I've determined that a) I've become a capitalist pig but b) not so much that I'm not offended by extremes.

What am I getting a Master's In?

I had two assignments this week that are driving me up a wall. I will turn them over to the you, our "legion" of readers for assistance.

First, I need to choose six people, living or dead, fictional or real, that I would appoint to my "Personal Board of Directors" to advise me on personal and professional matters. I am struggling with this one. Here's the long list so far:

My dad
My best friend
PWTS
Ohio State Senator Eric Fingerhut
Ohio Senator Sherrod Brown
Charles Bukowski (drunkard, poet, gambler)
My old boss (a Chief Financial Officer and CPA)
My current boss (a Master of Public Administration who is a totally no-bullshit, good decision-maker)
Nelson Mandela
Sir Alex Ferguson (manager of the EPL - currently first place- Manchester United Football Club)
Franklin Delano Roosevelt
Eleanor Roosevelt
Anthony Bourdain (writer, chef, chain-smoker)
Hillary Rodham Clinton
Barack Obama
John McCain
Warren Buffet (crazy, seemingly irrational, rich dude)
Victoria "Posh Spice" Beckham
Oprah Winfrey
Karl Rove (thinking I can blame any unfortunate or cold-hearted decisions on him)

I need to whittle this down to six so any recommendations or suggestions you may have are welcome. I need to have the list and my reasons by Monday night at 7pm.

The other assignment is even more challenging. I need to come up with 5 minutes of bullshit on "What I am Passionate About". I'm not fucking passionate about anything. I could give a shit about just about everything these days. That could be the medication talking but, still, coming up with this is going to be a problem. Most of what I have been passionate about has been beaten out of me (metaphorically speaking). I have no passion left. I don't care what I drink, what I eat, what I read, what I watch, what I do for a living, who I talk to, who I vote for, what happens in the world. None of it.

I'm going to need make something up. Please post your suggestions in the comments. I can bullshit like nobody's business so if you suggest something halfway decent, I'll tell you what I said about it in class.

Help me. Please.

Back at Ya

As Mavis says, there are no free feels, so here's my return ego-stroke:

The Final Beer

This is our time

now

the drunks have all gone to sleep

or passed out

and you can finally relax,

stop playing the good hostess,

set aside all anxiety and fear.

I try to pace myself

put on hold my pursuit of oblivion

so we can share this final beer.

You smoke, talk,

I hope I listen the way you want me to

drunk as I am

your grace and the cadence of your voice

punctuate exquisite silence

what a perfect way to start the new year.

Dear House Elf

I hope you enjoyed your vacation. Now that you're back, there are a few things I'd like to bring to your attention. I'd like you to make these items a priority, please. They are becoming very disruptive.

1. My sock drawer is out of control. Please match up all of the socks and put them into the appropriately colored rows. I think this will greatly speed up my morning routine. The last few weeks have been stressful.

2. The animal hair tumbleweeds have reached Dr. Seuss-like proportions. Please run the vaccum ASAP. You may need to use a rake first and perhaps a shop vac instead of the Dyson.

3. Sheba Fatone's weight problem appears to be preventing her from adequately grooming her nether regions. Please keep an eye on that and help her out when you can. So far she has refused all assistance from the Beagles and the other cats.

Thank you,
Mavis

Drunken Rambling #2

Since I have the time on my hands....

On the topic of my Lists for Good Not Evil, here's my Top Five Albums for 2006. That means, these are the albums I listened to most in 2006, not that they came out in 2006....

1. Snow Patrol - Eyes Open
2. Death Cab For Cutie - Plans
3. Ben Folds - Songs For Silverman
4. Alkaline Trio - Crimson
5. Stevie Wonder - Talking Book

Feel free to add yours.

Although, as one of my bosses used to say, "There are no Free Feels".

Drunken Rambling #1

I'm sure there have been others but since I've just noticed the ability to categorize my posts.....

Two items of significance for today.

First, I committed a Random Act of Kindness (or as DMC said, I "Paid it Forward"). I feel really sneaky and happy about it. I just cleaned off some lady's car at work but no one saw me and she is having a rough time so I feel really good about it. She came out of work, way after 5, after a day of heavy snow belt snow and found that someone had cleaned off her car. I'm absolutely giddy about it and I'll never tell it was me.

Second, DMC talked me into signing up for the Winking Lizard World Tour of Beers. He did it last year but he is much stronger than me. I can't handle much beer these days so we'll see if I make it to 100 by the end of the year (I mean, I'm sure I will drink 100 beers, I'm just not sure I'll drink them all at a Winking Lizard). I'm half the woman I used to be - almost literally - so we'll see how that goes. Although, I AM a College Student so, I got that going for me.

Right now, I'm watching "Beerfest" for the second time in a month so DMC can write a paper for our Team Building class (I chose "Over the Hedge"). We just had several beers at the WL. I'm currently drinking a Southern Tier Old Man Winter and in my drunkeness, wrote this poem for my friend, PWTS (I know it's crap, just bear with me. I haven't written a poem since I was 14):

He moves and sits still
Both with stealth and silence
Like Jesus, Buddha, Mohammed, Manson
He quietly observes
And imparts his will

No grocer murders, mayhem, madness
Only food and drink and smoke and talk
Buk and slang and music
He asks nothing more from me
Than to be who I am.

His presence brings peace, wisdom,
Community, reality and truth
Past and present combine
We only move forward,
We never move back.

Red Velvet Cake

A couple weeks ago the kids at work were having a bake sale and I purchased a Red Velvet Cake. I have to admit, I picked the Red Velvet Cake because of the scene in Steel Magnolias where they show the groom's cake, which is a giant, grey armadillo. Someone chops off the tail and it looks like blood and guts because its a red velvet cake. It was disgusting. Damn good reason to choose a cake flavor, don't you think?

I have to say, it was the best fucking cake I've had in a long time. I wanted to just stick my whole face into it and slurp it down like a kid at their first birthday party (excluding the wee one whose party we attended yesterday - she was disappointingly neat). Some church ladies made it and I will be purchasing another the first opportunity I get.

Anyway, today I went shopping at one of those suburban-fake-downtown shopping centers with my mom. Since we were being girly, we ventured into the Sephora (which I always see recommended for makeup in women's magazines but had never experienced). I was sniffing my way around the store when I came upon some bath products named after foods. There were Lemon Pies, Sugar Cookies, Butter Cream Frosting and.....Red Velvet Cake. Since I really really like bath products that smell like food (Sesame Ginger, Rosemary Mint, Mango Mandarin) I had to sniff every single one and the Red Velvet was by far the best.

It was the most delicious thing I'd ever smelt. Or smelled. Whatever. Point is I almost stuck my tongue out to take a taste. It's a Limited Edition flavor so naturally I bought it.

I had every intention of blogging earlier this evening but I was obsessed with my Red Velvet Shampoo/Shower Gel/Bubble Bath to the point that I had to take my second bath of the day. (I kept going into the bathroom to sniff it anyway.)

It didn't smell quite as good as a bubble bath but smelled great as a shampoo and shower gel. I twice resisted the urge to taste it. It's such an awesome color as well - sort of a dark pearly red/nailpolish sort of color. And the bottle comes with a recipe for Red Velvet Cake on it. While I was lounging in my delicious whirlpool tub, I read the recipe and decided to make a cake. Unfortunately (or fortunately, depending how you look at it), I was out of cocoa powder.

So, instead, I'm sipping on Cadbury's Drinking Chocolate with a shot of Navan vanilla cognac. I tried putting red food coloring into it to make a Red Velvet Hot Chocolate but the color didn't quite turn out. It's just sort of a rosy pink.

It'll have to do.

Nature Shows

I used to love watching nature shows on TV. Not The Crocodile Hunter, although I enjoyed Mutual of Omaha's Wild Kingdom as a kid, but video footage of animals with the only noticeable human presence being the narrator's voice over. The crueler the better. The high point came when I saw an episode of The Trials of Life, narrated by David Attenborough, that made me laugh so hard that I cried and gasped for breath.

This episode featured killer whales that deliberately beached themselves on the shores of Patagonia (Argentina) to capture baby seals and bring them back into the water. What I found so incredibly funny was the absurdity of a cute domestic scene of sibling seals playing on the beach interrupted by something the size of a house suddenly emerging from the sea to steal sis (or bro), and then this house flopping back and forth to get back into the water. Even funnier was that these whales didn't seem to have the slightest interest in eating the seals. They swam into deep water, then batted the seals back and forth to each other with their tails.

I know, I was a sick person. I'm better now. And I don't think my vegetarianism has anything to do with it, at least not initially, for I had already quit eating meat for several years when I first saw The Trials of Life. And, back when we let our cat outside, my wife was always perplexed how a vegetarian could take such pleasure in another creature's homicidal fury. No, it was another nature show which changed my perspective. All I remember was a scene of a lioness, at night, trying to kill a zebra. The lioness hung upside down, clinging to the zebra, with its jaws around the zebra's throat, trying to break the zebra's neck but being unable to. I remember the terror and pain in the zebra's eyes quite clearly. Anyone who thinks nature is perfect is a moron--there's every bit as much futility and suffering in it as in the human world. And there's nothing funny about that. So I stopped watching nature shows and switched over to astronomy. Even projections of our planet's future demise comfort me, maybe because that demise won't be selective but will affect/erase all life.

Until yesterday. In the wee hours of the morning, while grazing, I ran across footage of praying mantises eating birds and mice. Fascinating! My Marxist tendencies cause me to celebrate any upheaval of hierarchies, and what could be better than a reversal of the food chain? Then I had to witness my little revolutionaries being eaten by hedgehogs. Strangely, I wasn't saddened. Rather, the liberation from morality and discipline an eat-or-be-eaten mindset presents tempted me. Why should I be anxious about my consumption of natural resources and calories? Why should I worry about the homeless, the poor, the oppressed? It's only natural to be motivated by desires and selfishness, to be a consuming machine, right? So, guilt-free, I drove to the other side of Charlotte just to have lunch.

Thankfully, later that night the TV saved me. A documentary on MLK brought me out of myself. After all, if we have evolved compassion and conscience, why would we go back to a base and violent existence unless merely out of fear?

Oliver's Hot Monkey Love and OCD

I was reading Anonymous Coworker today, laughing my ass off as usual, when I came upon a link that has me planning a trip to Baltimore as soon as I can. Maybe Spring Break. I absolutely must visit a brew pub that brews true cask-conditioned ales served with hand-pumps at a perfect 54F. Especially when one of those Ales is called "Oliver's Hot Monkey Love". Who wouldn't want to experience that?

Now to the OCD part of the post.

I do have mild obsessive compulsive disorder - officially diagnosed (documentation available in my FBI file through the Freedom of Information Act). I'm not an obsessive handwasher or lock-checker. I keep a lot of lists and I am a horder (no, not "whored" or "horror", although some would argue those as true also), which in my case means I keep every piece of paper that may ever have any (even remote) possibility of being useful.

I'm not all that severe with either of these unless I get incredibly stressed and they mostly relate to how I handle things at work. In fact, if I hadn't just blabbed it all over a blog, you'd probably never know.

For 2007 I'd like to embrace my compulsions. I want to use my compulsions for good, not evil. I want to make some "Happy Lists" to combat all the To Do and To Remember lists. First, we'll do the Top Five Best Days of My Life:

1. The day I rafted down the Mohican river with my brother, PWTS and my friend Marshmallow. It took over 8 hours for a four hour trip and involved the most alcohol I have ever consumed in one sitting.

2. My wedding day. I honestly would have put this first except immediately following the reception I vomited profusely and broke out in hives. Everyone was there, good vibes, lots of fun otherwise.

3. Drinking real Molson Canadian (higher alcohol content!) at a patio karaoke bar with a guy injecting profane lyrics into every song he sang on my fifth wedding anniversary at Niagara Falls. The Serial Killer Museum, a Haunted House and a hotel suite with a view of the falls made it even better.

4. Sitting in a park reading a book about gnomes with my friend Aaron on a beautiful summer day in Bowling Green, Ohio.

5. The day I was driving back from a spontaneous Athens, GA road trip with some friends. We stopped at truck stops, played pinball and generally travelled like we never had to make it back home.

If you are so inclined, please share yours.