Wednesday, April 27, 2005

What do you want to know?

The Trip: well, it was a trip, like the acidic kind, but without the acid.

My dad and I threw a party which was attended by 4 people who graduated from my high school. Keep in mind that I went to high school in Indiana and my dad lives in California. I guess it's the place to be.

Six Flags on a week day morning is PHAT. Just don't ride the spinny thing--even if you think you can be tough. You will want to vomit. I had no trouble with the 0-100mph in 6 seconds, straight up Superman ride, however. Brian and I rode that continuously in nothing but the first row. It was fabulous. You're weightless at the top for an instant. Plus, it's propelled by magnets. Magnets! It sounds like a jet taking off.

Unfortunately, I got sunburned on my shoulders and felt like I was going to die for most of the next day. What a lame guest! I actually fell asleep at breakfast. In a diner. I twitched. That's bad. Two beers shouldn't knock you out for the whole next day. Other losses that day included my sunglasses, which I crushed, and my camera, which I baptized in a pint-sized water ride. Somehow, it didn't mess with my day at all--the camera issue just gives me justification to get the one I really want. What a sick little consumer I am.

Being vegetarian hasn't worked out for me this time. I saw my doctor yesterday and she agrees that it's a bad idea. So I'm quitting. I won't go overboard with the carnivorous lifestyle as I still believe in the environmental reasons for my diet, but I will eat it. I'll just do my best to eat "natually raised" meats. I'm not actually sure what that means, so if anyone is an expert I'd love to know more. Luckily Whole Foods is next door so I have a fresh supply. I wonder how much they waste there. They get a new giant trash bin every day. I should know. It's my second alarm clock--which didn't work on Monday when I came to around noon. Oops.

Live and in person, I saw Rachel Garlin and Hot Buttered Rum String Band Monday night. If either Rachel or Hot Buttered Rum are coming to a venue near you, I highly recommend seeing their show.

Everyone should check out this guy Mark Farina. Granted, in my case it's dad music, but a 25-year-old male coworker told me he wants to be my dad, so it might not be that bad. And while that comment raised a few eyebrows, no, the coworker doesn't want to be my "daddy". But I heard Jude Law does. Can someone give him my number? Shanksh.

Sorry for the randomness. Didn't know where to start. Don't know where to end. So here is good.

Friday, April 22, 2005

Working is Way Better

Working is way better when it is done on the 14th floor with plenty of light and air. Working is way better when done at a hip coffee shop.
Working is damn near fun under these conditions.
I think I will try it more often.
My dad's here.
Gotta go.

Hebrew and Lavatories

Last time I was on a plane, a poor man had a seizure, wet himself, turned purple and died. His wife proceeded to pass out and they were both taken to ambulances on the tarmac at the Chicago airport. Now I am sitting behind a little boy (who is about the cutest kid ever—not counting my own sister) who I believe wet the “bed” and is now hacking up a lung—or two. His bed is just above my feet, which explains why my computer is not on the floor, but rather, is here cramping me into my seat.

Altitude sickness is a bitch. I thought I only got it when driving up mountains and the like. Well, considering the sad state of affairs going on in my lower intestine, I would say that it is safe to add planes to the danger zone list. I really hope my little buddy next to me isn’t reading this. If he does, he’ll know that all that in-seat vibration was not due to turbulence. I have been on this plane for 4 hours now and the sun has basically not changed position. I have 2.5 hours to go and now it smells like shit. I swear it’s not me. It might have to do with the fact that I’m in row 25, aka the lavatory.

Where did the word lavatory come from anyway? Let’s come up with a pretty little word for “smelliest place on earth” they said. And it was. I’m passing over some really pretty snow-capped mountains. I wonder how long this post will be. It is my birthday.

My Product teammates gave me flowers today and even a key lime pie. It was Claire’s b-day a few weeks ago, so she also got some flowers and some pie. And the research girls came through with the old standard--a box of birthday munchkins. Awesome!

Olivia and the Maternal Units called this morning and left a message with a Hebrew birthday song as well as Happy Birthday to You – CHA CHA CHA! I didn’t hear the message, but called them back and they sang it again, only more awake this time. Olivia wanted to make a cake in my honor so she could have a piece. How did MY sister get a sweet tooth? Something about that missing biological link I guess. She also likes McDonalds.

It is bumpy.

Monday, April 18, 2005

Curt Schilling is a Big Man

How do I know? I was nearly plowed down by him near the finish line. I might be exaggerating, but I did nearly bump into him right before I saw him walking, crouched over a bit to reach the hand of his tiny son. Then he got into the back of a police car. Hmmm... the kid must have done something terrible. Curt really is big, though. Luckily, he didn't rub his bloody sock on me. Wait, maybe that would have been lucky. Oh well, I'm already lucky. You should meet my friends. You'd feel lucky too. (If you're reading this, chances are you're already my friend, so thanks. You make me feel lucky.) Wow. Sappidy sap sap sap. It's cool. You like it.

Why is it that when I'm planning a trip to California the weather will be nearly identical in Boston? We only get so many sunny days here. I'm not sure I can handle missing any of them. Well, yes I can. Ok, back to packing and pretending like I'm not going to leave my place in a state of disarray. How can I do that while I'm sleeping? Ideas?

Sunday, April 17, 2005

My Feet Are Dirty

This is a very good thing. My feet are dirty because I was outside wearing sandals chasing a frisbee today. I sat behind Catherine Ndereba, 3-time winner of the Boston Marathon, today at church. I must admit I didn't know who she was on my own recognition skills, but evidently she and her family have been coming to Church of the Covenant for several years on the day before the marathon.

This year, I don't know anyone running the marathon, so now I can follow Catherine and pretend I know her... I'm hoping to walk through the Back Bay part of the course tomorrow before 8am, so I am off to bed.

Saturday, April 16, 2005

On Being Wrong

A. Being wrong is not fun.
B. I was wrong about not knowing how to do my job. I definitely know how.
C. Maybe being wrong can be fun. I was evidently wrong about A as well.
D. Being wrong can lead to sending multiple erroneous email messages.
E. Sending multiple erroneous email messages is evil.
F. Recalling email is fun. People should do it more often.
F1. It is annoying when someone who doesn't know how to do your job and doesn't even come to the office enough to do his job (so he passes it off on you) tries to tell you how to do your job. Really annoying. So annoying that it makes me want to hit him and talk behind his back. Not that I'm bitter. No, you don't know who it is, so quit.
G. I love Laura for turning me on to lists.
H. I think I like being wrong.
I. I was not wrong about not needing to go to Level 2 of my Microsoft Access class, as it turns out.
J. New Horizons Learning Center acknowledged that fact by offering to let me attend Level 3 at no additional cost.
K. New Horizons is almost always wrong.
L. Having bad dreams that involve the office and amazonian temperatures is not fun.
M. I think I will stop that.
N. I am going to cut Anna's hair today--and color it. I hope my plan for that is not wrong.
O. I hope Anna gets all the questions on the MCAT right today.
P. I woke up at 6:30 today. That is just wrong.
Q. The Red Sox creamed the hell out of Tampa Bay last night. 10-0. How could something so wrong feel so right?
R. I fell asleep in the 6th inning.
S. I really need to turn in my amended tax return. I was originally wrong.
T. That is not so fun because I now have to pay them back.
U. I want to buy clothes. Is coveting wrong?
V. I am going to California next week--in the middle of busy season for the investment research world. That is wrong. And I like it. Point A is getting more and more wrong.
W. I am almost done with the alphabet.
X. There is a Scrabble tournament in Boston today. I wasn't invited. Wrong again.
Y. Have I missed any letters? That would be funny and wrong.
Z. Being wrong is funny.

Thursday, April 07, 2005

Girl Power

Law School sounds like a horrific nightmare for a girl. They turn into bitchy poopsmiths. Is it possible for girls to be collegial and competitive at once? We’re natural born killers. Cut throat. Boys get by because they know how to be friends. How is this misperceived in society? Fraternity is a common word, but Sorority? Fraternize, yes. Sororotize, what? Come on. City of brotherly love. They know that sisterly love is cat fight central. Cat fight. JESUS. The language imagery is never ending against women and girls. I’m beginning to think that it really is that we’re smarter and they’ve been able to suppress that for ages due to their fraternal bonds. What the hell? And I’m not even an active, righteous feminist. I like being a girl (and therefore I am a feminist). I find myself singing the Gap commercial and being perfectly happy with that. I also think men are cool too. They definitely have a role in society and many of them are very conscientious about other people and are caring human beings. Very nice traits, men.

What would I do if I didn’t have the city’s sketchiest bachelors leering, greeting, and complimenting? As much as we’re all like “oh my god this sketch dude was totally checking me out,” we like it. As long as it doesn’t cross the line. Where’s the line? Wherever I feel like putting it today, so watch it. See, women are like new X-5 drivers who used to drive hatchback Honda Civics (or Red Sox fans… the eternal underdogs who suddenly, miraculously won the World Series). A small inexpensive car driver attitude behind the wheel of a fancy big rig is a dangerous combination—that’s why they’re afraid. They’re scared that once we leverage our power behind that big wheel their days are numbered. Why can’t we all just get along?

More thoughts on this to come. We shall discover as we go.

Disclaimer: this is me thinkging out loud. So if you don't like it, comment. Let's discuss. I'm not always right.

Wednesday, April 06, 2005

Confiscated Breath

No, I wasn't swept off my feet by a knight in shining armor (where are you, mystery fan?). I walked outside my apartment tonight on my way to the store and noticed something amazing. The tulip tree blossoms are peeking out of their fuzzy little buds. I'll be sure to snap a photo for tomorrow's post.

I just did some research to prove to the world that the tree I was talking about above is, indeed, a tulip tree. It turns out that while I am not, by any means, the only one under this misconception, the actual name for said tree is the Saucer Magnolia or Magnolia soulangeana, not the Tulip Tree or Liriodendron.

I washed dishes. I broke one. In the sink. With several gallons of water in it.

And just like that, she changed her ways. There was an end to the several gallon dish wash.

Why is my job stressful? It didn't used to be. Oh yeah, the fact that I have no idea what I'm doing but somehow manage to pull off the appearance that I'm totally on top of it. It's really a shame that I was so eager to get attention for this blog--nearly all of my colleagues have access to it. Well, my dear KLD friends, the secret has been revealed and the emporer has no clothes.

That makes me the emporer! Awesome! I guess it doesn't matter whether I can do my job: I'm just a figurehead anyway. I should call up Georgie and commiserate. (Click on the Georgie link. It's funny.)

Monday, April 04, 2005

Dove Sono, Le Nozze di Figaro

Figaro loves Susana. Susana loves Figaro. Susana and Figaro are servants in the Count’s castle.

Countess loves Count. Count loves Countess, but he also loves his ‘privileges’ as Count to woo young women of the court—especially Susana.

Susana is not interested. Countess is jealous.

Susana and Countess plot to exchange clothes/identities under the cover of night and fool the Count into thinking he has had success in his quest for Susana. The idea is to both catch him in the act and remind him of his true feelings.

Dove Sono is the recitative and aria in anticipation of the exchange of clothes. (Secondary and tertiary plots abound but are not important for explaining the aria.)

To find out whether it works, come to 67 Newbury Street on Saturday, April 9th at 7pm with $5.

Sunday, April 03, 2005

11 random thoughts from the weekend

1. You need to see Hotel Rwanda
2. Union Square is far away and no one should live there.
3. I need to move to the other side of the river, but not to Union.
4. Mice can't get in my house when all the entrances are blocked.
5. I am singing Dove Sono from Le Nozze (again) in public this weekend.
6. It's $5 at 67 Newbury to see it happen. You should come.
7. My grandpa is really demanding.
8. I was a little emotional about the pope dying and I'm generally not in favor of catholic doctrine. How strange.
9. You should never put your coffee table somewhere it doesn't belong. If you do, you might come into contact with it in the most painful way when the lights are out. My (borrowed) aloe plant had to contribute some salve for the wounds. Thanks Jill.
10. There is such a thing as a flat dog. My friend has one.
11. Damn Yankees!