On behalf of your Memphis-based flight crew...

This morning's flight was crewed by a distinctly Tennesseean crew. I was sitting near the front and was privy to this conversation:

Flight Attendant (strong Memphis accent): "On behalf of your (as if you hadn't guessed) Memphis-based flight crew, we'd like to welcome you aboard"

Front Row Guy: "I knew you must be from Tennessee. I love the accent."

FA: "You know, most of the time people just think I'm dumb. The looks up north in reaction to my accent are priceless. [turns to tend to something in the kitchen] I've got brains; I just don't sound like it. I have a master's and I'm working on my PhD."

FRG: "In what?"

FA: "Special Ed. Special Education. It helps a LOT with this job."

Front Section of Aircraft: [Eruption of Laughter]

FRG: "Maybe you should go into comedy."

FA: "Believe me. I could."

Anywhere, USA

My recent flight from New York to Indianapolis reminded me that airports are often distinctly non-descript. there are a few exceptions in the newer terminals, but in those built in a previous era, I might as well have flown in circles around the same airport, landed and then entered a different dimension when I left the building. The buildings are the same. Same old, stale carpet. Same toothless, pimpled, somewhat surly service staff at the restaurants. Same manicured, uniformed flight crews who always seem to know some sort of inside joke. Same Starbucks. (except in Idaho)

How To Speak New Yorker

In New York City, they're not convenience stores, they're Bodegas.
You don't stand in line; you stand on line.
You don't say OR-ange or HORR-ible; you say AR-ange and HARR-ible.
It's not Hew-ston like Texas, it's House-ton street.
It's not becauze, it's becausse.
Until next time...

Lower East Side Specialty

When I walk to work in the morning (the most awesome thing ever!), I pass closed metal garage door front gates. It's a ghost town. However when I walk home (also awesome) it's a whole new world. Suddenly spray painted garage doors become store fronts, restaurants, galleries, salons, laundromats, bars, dry cleaners, shisha lounges, and bodegas. It's wild that night is quite a lot less scary than morning.

November too...

It's been so long since I've posted here that when I went to type in the URL, Firefox didn't "remember" it for me. Thank goodness the old brain still has something on the computer, I guess.

This month, well last month, has been a whirlwind. Again. This time it was work that kept me so busy. September it was finding an apartment, dealing with the boyfriend issues, and getting ready to move. October it was moving, dealing with the boyfriend issues, coming to terms with the fact that my boss quit, and .... CRAP MY STUPID INTERNET CONNECTION BROKE AGAIN!!!!!!!!!!!!!! oh yeah, and preparing for Halloween.

I'm going to kill TimeWarner.

November brought with it the realization and reality that my job got a whole lot harder. We printed over 100,000 80-page prospectuses and sent out tens of thousands of in-house-designed direct mail related to our new fund launch. What the hell does all that mean, you ask? Well, that's what I was asking at the beginning, but we somehow managed to do all that, update our website reflecting the same, and put together a whole bunch of other material. Ok, enough of my boring life, but suffice it to say that because I was so busy, I was sending my laundry out to be washed (as in someone else washing my undies... yum). However, I wasn't in the neighborhood during the time that they were open, so by Friday, I was wearing my suit to go to a factory in New Jersey.

Yes, I was in a mailhouse in New Jersey at 8am with my driver... I told you it's been nuts. Only a few months ago I was plodding away at database management sitting with my headphones and working independently, and now I'm managing processes with multiple vendors, coordinating mailings across several different mailhouses and it is wildly different. Sometimes I just want to build a database... so I am in the background.

I told you I'd stop talking about work, didn't I? Maybe tomorrow.

How did I skip October?

I think this marks the first time since I started this blog in February 2005 that a month has completely passed without writing a post. My apologies.

Since September 27th, my life has gotten a little wilder, messier, but probably more fun. I guess that's why there's not much news here, but I'll try to be better now that I have a slightly more reliable internet connection.

Recap from October:

1. I moved out of the old lady house to a place that's a 20 minute walk from work.
2. I managed to lose my sewing machine. (Through incidents that I'd rather not discuss.)
3. My buddy Jill and her bird came to visit.
4. I started a fellowship with StartingBloc and my team managed to be a finalist in a competition that I desperately wanted to lose. It's getting a little more exciting now.
5. I represented my company all weekend in DC where on the way, my train had to get an engine replacement, my hotel couldn't check me in because the computers were broken, my booth had no furniture and I had to pay for all of the equipment services with my own credit card. When my hotel finally did check me in I was handed a working key to someone else's hotel room. However, it was a great experience and despite being absolutely exhausted by the end, I'd do it again... but differently.
6. My boyfriend and I got back together.
7. Choir picked up. (you should come to the concert. it's cheap.)
8. My boss quit.
9. My new boss started.
10. Halloween.

Curiouser and Curiouser

The woman I live with is a piece of work.

When I decided to live with her, people said "Chrystina, if there's anyone who can live with someone so different, it's you." Which I took with a fairly large grain of salt because I knew I was getting myself into some crazy shit. As it turns out, Lady X has managed to find someone perhaps even better suited to it than I am to live with her. When I told Lady X that I was leaving, she found my replacement in a day and he moved in the next day (to the guest room). Luckily, we get along and we'll now be singing together in a choir. More on that later...

Here are some clips from my life in the last two months:

• She's lived here for over 30 years--and you can tell. I don't know how many roommates she's had, but I've heard of at least 10 of them. However, the doormen tell me that no one really lives here for more than 3-4 months. I'm not setting any records with 2 months. She apparently kicked a guy out after a month because he opened the door and he was stark naked.
  

• She smoked for 40 years--up to as many as 5 packs a day. And the yellow ceiling in the kitchen can attest to that.

• I know you're wondering if there are any cats involved. I can thankfully tell you no on that one. However, if there had been a cat, that might have been the straw that broke this camel's back before I got into it. Oh well. Live and learn. Write blog posts.

• She likes to teach Asians. The reasons she lists are: They worship the ground the teacher walks on. They work themselves to the bone. And I think they "like me because I'm short". (So.... smart, hard working people like short teachers. Right.)

• She's constantly dropping the names of people who were famous in her world, but are entirely unknown to me. The only one I've ever recognized from her stories of her fancy friends is Aaron Copland--and he was admittedly just an acquaintance.

• She gets psychotically angry and sullen when I don't put my keys in the tray by the door.

• Once, when I mentioned something about if I change my Boston cell phone number, she corrected me with "when". I then made the mistake of explaining that I might not change it and she went ballistic telling me that I was "cutting off half the world" by not changing it.
  

• One time, I was walking in the door and I said hello, mentioned something about the paper she was reading, and then my phone rang. Since it was the girl who I am now going to live with and I didn't want to miss it, I excused myself and took the call in the other room. Then, graciously, I went back to talk to Lady X. By that point she was enraged that I had ignored her to take a call. I let her know that the call was important and I didn't mean to be so rude. She was not convinced and acted like I was the world's biggest bitch for taking a phone call. She topped it off with "so she's more important than me?"
  

• She refuses to call my new neighborhood anything other than in the Lower East Side when it's squarely in the East Village because she thinks I'll take it as an insult. She also constantly reminds me how very far away it is from the subway--it's 0.25 mi from the subway, which is .05 mi longer than her walk to the express stop.

• Lately, she's been clearing out her summer wardrobe to make room for the next season. With that task, she's decided to give away several shirts and other clothes. Since, strangely, we wear approximately the same shirt size, she's given me several of them. I knew better than to just say no, but as it turns out, I actually like them, and she loves it when I wear them. They're funny, but I kind of like funny.
  

• She (even though she was mad about the keys and such) just came over to offer me a box for the move.
  

And then she's nice. It's just so weird. She really is a nice person, but I don't think she's been treated very nicely all her life. She's a little out there and definitely had eccentric parents, so who knows which is the chicken or the egg, but she's more than I can handle and I'm glad to be out of it as of next Monday.

Environmentally Friendly

Socially Responsible, Ethical, Natural, Sustainable

Ah the buzz words abound, but what do they really mean?

I hate the part of my work that sounds like I exist in a fairy tale version of reality. The socially responsible investing crowd is generally pretty in touch with the financial realities of the stock (and bond) market, but people certainly aren't immune to the idealism that can accompany such lofty goals. On the other hand, it's a business, and it must be run like one--and businesses, when sustainable, are self-serving to a degree. As people at my company like to say: There are no responsible companies, just responsible investors.

The opposite feeling is also true however. Do you believe a label that says "natural" or "environmentally friendly"? What is that? Companies have realized that this is appealing to consumers and they have pasted the phrases and labels meant for truly innovative products on anything they can get away with. Luckily, there are some regulations on words like this. For example, there are USDA guidelines for Organic foods, but some would say these are not strong enough. In addition, the USDA will soon be under pressure from Wal-mart and other companies to relax those standards in order to more easily mass produce this type of agriculture. Unfortunately, mass production is one of the problems. It is a double-edged sword that Wal-mart now wants to make itself the most "green" company in the world. Their record shows that they water down and cheapen everything they come into contact with. Organics are riddled with problems including the idea that it is necessarily local agriculture, when it's not, and the problem with packaging things in tons of plastic in order to avoid using preservatives. This post was not meant to wax on about organics in particular. If you're interested, you can learn more about it here.

This sort of weakening of the words we use to indicate a low-impact product on resources is probably the reason for my distaste for what my industry appears to be on the surface, my hesitation to use such classifications, and my distrust for the labels. So I guess we can just blame it all on Wal-mart after all. Now we're happy.

O Sole Mio

One windy Friday afternoon, I had finished dropping off my friends at the Port Authority, and headed down to the Subway to go back home to the Upper West Side. Then I remembered I wanted to call my mom, so I decided to take the above ground route and came back up from the subway in order to take the bus. I walked over to the bus stop while calling mom, but she was busy, so I was waiting for the bus without a phone pressed to my ear. Before I get a chance to see this bus, along comes a horse-drawn carriage. (Yes, everything in my New York world is hyphenated). I look at the white carriage with red faux velvet interior and wonder what it is doing on 42nd and 10th, but otherwise pay it little attention until the guy in the passenger section turns around and calls for me to get in. I think he's teasing or just wants me to pay $50 for a $2 ride home, which no matter how comfortable the seats are, I'm not willing to pay. However, this persists and he insists on taking me at least a block. Mind you, there are other people waiting for this bus, but this guy's picking on me. So I run over and jump in because why not? It's New York, I'm considering it a free ride, and who doesn't want to ride in a horse-drawn carriage? Not even a vegetarian who doesn't eat vegetables, I would imagine.

Once in the carriage, Giovanni, the man in the back, and I start talking. As it turns out, he is also a carriage driver, but they're headed up to Central Park to meet up with the other carriages (58th and 7th). From the name, you can guess that he's Italian (actually from Italy). I always think I can speak Italian and then realize that when I try to speak I actually have no words except for music, so I tell him this (after all, if he's anything like my massage therapist, the longer you keep him talking, the longer the ride). So I say something like "quando m'en vo soletta per la via la gente sosta e mira, e la belleza mia tutta ricerca in me da capo a pie", which was actually appropriate considering it was Musetta's Waltz and they had stopped because "you are so beautiful, are you sure you're not Italian?". (The song is about a woman who can't help but to attract attention due to her beauty). However, considering that it isn't even close to modern Italian and my accent probably needs work, he didn't understand. So I sang it.

And then it started. Giovanni began his entire Italian repertoire. I didn't really know the songs, so I had to go mainstream on him to participate, since he insisted that I sing. In fact, he told me to make up Italian songs. I'm sorry, but I'm no Grant Damron. I can't just do that. So we settled for Andrea Bocelli, which we sang at the top of our lungs all the way to 58th and 8th, where I decided I had to get out. People noticed. It was hilarious.

Vegetarian Who Doesn't Eat Vegetables

My mom used to call me names when I was in highschool because I apparently didn't eat vegetables--and I called myself a vegetarian (but still managed to stay away from meat). Well, I am living with a variation on a theme. My 55-year-old Bronx-born, Italian Catholic, 5-foot-tall roommate (soon to be former roommate), is the English as a Second Language teacher who doesn't like foreigners.

It doesn't matter how often I tell her that it's offensive to me that she makes such blanket statements about what she perceives as a well-defined ethnic group (generally the HiPANics--she likes to draw out the middle syllable in a way only a native New Yorker can). It doesn't matter that I remind her from time to time that she lives with a Mexican. In fact, she corrected me and told me that my family was actually from Spain. Um, well, yeah...kinda like your family is from Italy. None of this matters. She doesn't stop.

And just today, she's telling me about her friend's class of "Nasty Rusky's" that think ESL is their conversation hour and they don't want to learn English Grammar.

When you can keep her off the subject of people from other cultures (not often), she really is a fine person. A little talkative, and completely self-absorbed, but generally ok. However, on the topic of people she thinks she doesn't like, she can be downright nasty.

Buying Beer in New York

Contrary to what you might think in a city that allegedly doesn't sleep, it is quite a task to buy beer here. Perhaps the sedative tendency is counter-productive to the whole not sleeping thing. This theory is much easier to believe when you see that there are liquor stores all over the place and none of them sell beer. Several other theories come to mind however. In New York, space comes at a premium. To illustrate, keep in mind that nearly everyone in Manhattan (who didn't move here 100 years ago) is paying rent with a comma in it (i.e. $1,000+) no matter what size the room is or how many roommates there are. Often stores have multiple levels--even McDonald's has an upstairs (for the fit clientele), so store front space is even more important. So it comes as less of a surprise that beer, given its individual, bulky packaging, is harder to find than wine and hard liquor. I guess it should also not be a surprise that it is damn expensive when you do find it, but it comes as quite a shock the first few times.

I've run into this problem by accident a couple times recently--the second time being more egregious than the first. On Saturday, I bought a 6 pack of Sam Adams and a 6 pack of Negra Modelo for a grand total of $25 (without tax--which would have been added if I'd used my card). Yes, 12 mass-produced beers cost me twenty five dollars and that was without tax! Then, last night, I saw Dogfish Head's Raison D'Etre and had to have some. I swear it said 6 for $8.99. On second glance--at my receipt--I realized it actually said $2.99/bottle. It's still cheaper than the bar, but wow. There's got to be a cheaper place to buy decent beer.

Milwaukee

For the love of your sanity... or something... please see Laura's recent post titled "Browsing the Meat Market". But make sure you have a towel handy because you might pee your pants.

Baby Seals

Today, my (55-year-old) roommate, we'll call her Lady X, told me that her uncle (when he was 7) once managed to take a baby seal out of the Bronx Zoo, bring it home, and stick it in the bathtub without anyone noticing or at least doing anything about it until the police came to knock on the door during dinner. Only in New York. (At that time (approx the 1930s) the Bronx was, as Lady X puts it, rural.)

Not In Bostonia Anymore... Toto

Good Lord it's hot here! I think the wicked witch of the south came here and breathed fire through the subway channels leaving us to swelter on this god forsaken island. Seriously. That's the only thing that can explain it. I moved into my new place on a 95 degree day (monday) and it's only gotten worse. Today was over 100.

Thank God for work...where there's air conditioning... and which affords me the ability to buy my way into air conditioned establishments. I have an air conditioner to install, but no tape or plexiglass or whatever it is I need to fit a 2-foot-wide air conditioner into a 4-foot-wide window.

Hitting Home

This is my last Saturday in Boston. I have no home. Strangely, that hasn't hit me as strange yet, despite the fact that it's been over 3 weeks since we moved my stuff to New Iersey. I'm still working like crazy trying to train my replacement, so I guess I don't really have time to think.

I think I wore the same pants to work every day this week. I don't think that will fly at my new office. It's probably time to go shopping. Luckily, I will be working in the fashion capital of the universe, Soho, New York.

Tradition among my friends is to take each other to the Top Of the Hub for dessert when one of the group is leaving. Well, I'm the last one, so I guess I'll have to go sit at the bar and take my chances.

I guess that was the random thoughts about moving post.

Not So Invisible in Harlem

Yes, it's true. I found a place in New York where men still turn their heads when I walk by. And they talk to me. It feels like home. Plus, I almost talked myself into a ride on the back a of a garbage truck. Pretty sweet ride.

There Comes a Time in Every Woman's Life When...

...she realizes that a minute on the lips might actually lead to a lifetime on the hips.

First of all, I don't have cravings for chocolate, candy, sweets of any sort. Until now. I've realized that I'm going to have to actually do something if I don't want to be a cellulite covered slob, so I'm trying. But the minute that started, I also started wanting Snickers, Pay Day, cheese, cheese, more cheese, candy, fried food, pizza, the list goes on.

Second, I have never used gym equipment in my life. I only do yoga. And I've been out of practice since last February. You do the math because it makes me sick and feel sorry for myself to think about it.

So here I am, 24 years old, 5'8" and 125 lbs, learning how to go to the gym. My university now has a state of the art gym including a rock wall, but it was a dank old armory when I was in school. I paid a steep price to get into the rock climbing class last month and discovered just how nice it is.

So what's so hard about the gym? Everything.

How do I walk in the door?
How do I get a locker to work properly?
What do I do with my key?
Should I bring water?
What if I sweat too much?
How do I take a shower?
How do you turn this damn elliptical thing on and what does it mean that my heart rate is 170?
Why does it feel like I bruised my ribs on the ab machine?
What's the locker room etiquette? Can I just walk around naked or do I have to wrap up in a towel? Or is it weird to use the towel? What if it's on my head and I prance through the room? Can I thoroughly dry my crack or will people look at me funny?
Is it normal to weigh naked?
How do I gracefully bend over to pick something up when in the buff?
Why does yoga class feel like an aerobics/dance class?
What the hell is a smartbell?
How do I change the TV from cheerleader movie to the news? No, not Fox news.
What does a personal trainer do?

That's what.

Why's She Talking About New York?

Because she's moving there, silly.

That's right. I have a new job, a new apartment, and a new outlook on life. Well maybe not the outlook. However, I will be a few short blocks from Central Park at home and in SoHo at the office, so things are looking up.

If you're interested in finding out more, I'll tell you offline, but I'm already non-anonymous enough and I don't know who reads this anymore. Not sure I need everything broadcast.

Looks like I will need a new web address though...

Why is it that...

...in Boston guys will walk into walls because they're busy staring at me, but in New York I'm as good as invisible? It's sort of amazing how different it is down South.

Why do people lie? They do and it's sickening.

Why am I so tired all the time? Oh wait, I know. Because my life is ruled by craigslist and other people are insomniacs too.

Why do people ask for more than they deserve, and when will I learn to do this? I tried tonight and failed. Can someone help me?

Why don't I go to bed?

Wobbling for a Weber

It was my birthday (and Easter) weekend and I desperately needed to take advantage of the sudden 70+ degree weather. So I planned a barbecue party in the back yard--about 2 days before it happened. It was the day of the party, about an hour after people were supposed to show up at my house, and there I was with the boyfriend at Sears waiting for someone to return with an answer about a particular grill when we heard an announcement asking the Easter Bunny to return to the ground floor. That in itself seemed humorous enough for me, but the day had more laughs in store for us. The next thing we know there's a backroom stock guy walking by who notices our amusement. He stops and says, "You know, our manager is crazy about Easter. He painted the staff break room yellow. . . Every time I walk in there it makes my mind wobble."

Needless to say, that phrase has been used a few times since then.

I'm Not Dead

From the lapse, you might think so, but no. Just busy and secretive.

You might also think that the flooding in Boston would stop us, but no again. However, people are getting seriously angry about the weather. Today, I had a 10 minute conversation with someone about how angry she was about the weather. I was sure she was about to assign personal blame to someone. (She didn't). It was so visceral! Another 6'+ woman had just "ugh! I was almost blown over by the wind at South Station" to say. She was pretty drenched too. No bikes were ridden to the office this morning--especially not mine. However, one colleague wore a sweater. No jacket. No umbrella. Just a soaking wet sweater.

I had a water proof jacket, which I wore over the backpack, an umbrella, and I ran most of the way. Sure, I didn't smell that great, but I had some endorphins going for me and I wasn't too drenched. I suggest my method--especially if you're just going (indoor) rock climbing later anyway.

O the Places I've been!

I just found a cool new site where you can map where you've been, and since I have a pretty impressive track record within the US, I thought I'd show you. If anyone knows anyone in North Dakota, I'd love to have an excuse to get out there. The rest somehow seem manageable on my own.



visited states for you

Less Impressively, my country count (7):


visited countries for you

Great Plains?

My most recent experience proves otherwise. Iowa was certainly Great, but definitely not Plain. There were rolling dips, valleys, and hobbit-like hillsides. Plus it was incredibly green. Granted, the last time I was in Iowa, I was praying that I would find gas before having to stop in a cornfield over night and couldn't get out fast enough since it was so muggy, buggy and gross, but this time was different.... and windy. I even managed to have a slight wardrobe malfunction with my dress due to the wind. Luckily, my dad, the alleged mobster that he is, brought a big black raincoat, so I covered up.

This particular scene is from a cattle round up that we accidentally delayed--being the city slickers with cameras that we are. Needless to say, Amy was embarassed.

Family

Wouldn't it be nice to discover after about 10 years that you have an awesome family? Well that happened to me this weekend. True, I knew they existed, and I knew they were pretty cool, but man, I win. Last weekend I went to Iowa to visit my family and celebrate the life of my great grandfather Harold, who passed away in February. Thanks to him, I had a great weekend meeting my relatives as an adult, witnessing my very first auction, learning why you don't sell your cows, and how to find asparagus growing on the fence line.

There are tons of pictures from me and my dad if you want to take a look.

Mohonk Preserve

And this is why we love it... at least one of the reasons.

Dance with the Rock

Marching II
Originally uploaded by MotleyPrincess.

This weekend Jeff took me to New York and taught me how to climb rocks. I climbed a 5.4+! Sort of... I had a little help but made a couple of sweet moves on my own.

We also took a couple of lovely walks through the Mohonk Preserve and the adjecent state park. There were some crazy web-like nests which we discovered were some sort of cocoon for caterpillars. In this one, the big caterpillars were coming out and trying to find a way out of the tree. These guys were taking the scenic route and we caught them on film.... um, RAM?

Wake Up Call

This morning I woke up to about 14oz. of cold water spilled directly onto my flesh. Too bad it was only about 2am.

I managed to fall asleep with an open bottle of refrigerated water in my hand.

Nothing quite like wetting the bed at 24.

How to Talk to a Programmer

In my world, I spend a lot of time translating between normal human speak and programmer speak. And by programmer speak, I don't necessarily mean C# or visual basic. I mean programmer speak: the language used by programmers to communicate project goals, time lines, possibilities, solutions, etc. You don't have to know all the codes for colors in HTML, and you certainly don't have to know what HAL's favorite color was. You do however have to keep the following in mind:

1. Pretend like you think they are smarter than you. They think they are, so you might as well appease if you want the job done.
2. Be as specific as possible. They can smell a far fetched idea 18.2 miles away.
3. They think your "big ideas" are bogus. Remember that. Be discrete.
4. They probably are pretty bright in more ways than knowing how to concatenate two fields, so don't act like they're robots either.
5. If you want to "put pressure" on them to finish something, don't copy them on the email where you told your co-worker you were going to do it. (Ok, this goes for just about anyone).
6. Be realistic but firm about deadlines. Too quick and you'll get hostile response. Too lackadaisical and it will never get done.
7. It helps to have some basic knowledge of the soft/hardware you are working in to make this communication smoother. Consider taking a course in the "back end" of whatever it is you're working on.
8. Use sentences.
9. Hire me.

The funny thing is, I hate hate hate the phrase How-to. It is colloquial and stupid sounding. Use "process document" or "instructions" or "manual" or "guide" ... but How-To? It's like some awful bastardization of German syntax. Please.

Gamelan Galaktika

Taruna Jaya (the name of the dance)
Originally uploaded by MotleyPrincess.

Saturday was spent taking care of a sick boyfriend and then ditching him to hear my roommate's concert at Copley Square. Gamelan Galaktika is an Indonesian orchestra (gamelan). If you visit their site, you can hear what it sounds like. I find it hard to describe except that it's awesome.

West Africa

A woman named Céline Dubreuil from the World Water Council emailed me today to ask if she could use my photos in a report she's writing "The Right to Water". I of course said yes. I then realized that I failed to post several of the photos I took while in Niger, and that many of those omitted photos were pretty water-centric. So there are about 40 new pictures in the West Africa set. Enjoy!

Freaking Yuppy

I never thought that I would be the one feeling preppy in Kentucky, but in a roomful of tattooed, pierced, chain-smoking poolsharks, and me in my pink Gettin' Lucky in Kentucky T-Shirt, that was exactly how I felt. Maybe I really am just a yuppy as my now forced to be secret friend constantly accuses me of being because of my affinity for fine wine and food. It's not even that fine! I swear!

Anyway, Kentucky was a great time. I ended up with $350 in vouchers for future travel after having spent $300, so I guess I really did get lucky in Kentucky. It was absolutely beautiful weather and absolutely beautiful to have a reunion with my friends. A renewed spirit.

So I came back to not too many piles of work as I had worked sporadically throughout the weekend, including my most scary challenge: actually teaching. I actually taught. Or maybe I just did homework for the students in the statistics class. Either way, I did it right and wasn't even a little bit nervous. So that was good.

Now to teach the boyfriend how to design, develop, manipulate and maintain a relational database. Shouldn't take more than an hour and a half... right.

Live, Work, and Play

Louisville is the place to do it if you ask the slogan on their trash cans.

I was not expecting much from this place, but so far it has produced several very fun, eclectic clothing stores, affordable prices, and even a good beer selection. I had a Dogfish Head today, and the same Irish pub served all of the Guiness selections, Chimay, Maudite, Fin du Monde, etc. I have to say that I was expecting the premium beer to be Blue Moon (Coors product).

The city is in preparation for the Kentucky Derby, and today was "Thunder", which means that there was a massive fireworks display over the river. Not exactly Boston 4th of July, but pretty impressive. Plus they actually serve beer.

The population is decidedly different from Boston, but I will have to expand on that thought later.

It is past my bedtime.

Mr. Kessinger

As I sat in the Detroit Airport at 7:04 (my departure time) last night, waiting for my plane to leave Cleveland... I was facing Mr. Kessinger, a soldier in the Army. He was clad in a pixilated camouflage desert-storm-style suit. I of course was disgusted by the blatant sign of violence because as I generally feel, the military is just a sick place where people enjoy shooting other people. However, I was reminded that this is not necessarily the case when I boarded the plane.

He was in the seat in front of me and the first class flight attendant came up to him and said, "Come up with me to 4C." He seemed confused, so the flight attendant explained that they wanted to upgrade him. He stoically said "I'm fine. I don't need to move." I think some other dude followed the flight attendant up to the front. The common man class flight attendant said to him "We like to upgrade our soldiers when we can" in an almost apologetic tone. Then the man across from him turned shook his hand and said "Thank you for your service."

That was when I remembered that these soldiers really are giving us a service whether we like the means of their service or not. Many are probably unable to find other work and find that enlisting gives them an opportunity to make a living, albeit a dangerous one. So, with renewed respect for our service men and women, I end this post. Thank you, Mr. Kessinger.

Celebrating Old Age

I did it by significantly reducing my liquidity. Yesterday morning, I made a last ditch effort to contribute to my Roth for 2005. I was successful, but only because Massachusetts has a special holiday called Marathon Monday... I mean Patriots' Day.

Oh, and by the way, I have some clarifications to make. What my mom didn't mention about my Mexican granddad is that a) he's her ex-husband's father (not her father) b) he was a legal immigrant and c) that when he came to this country, he refused to speak Spanish and joined the Navy. He's about as Flag-waving American as they come--as far as I can tell.

As my dad pointed out, the Mexicans aren't so nice to their own immigrants from the South... though at this time in the morning, I'm not sure how to deal with that eloquently. So I won't.

G'night folks!

Blamo! Another finish!

My friend Anna who also ran the marathon did quite well and beat her personal best. In addition, she raised nearly $3000 for the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society, in memory of my friend Laura's dad.

Yay for people who don't pass out when running more than should be humanly possible!

Finish				Pace	Official Time	Overall	Gender	Division
				0:09:36	4:11:22	14966	5331	3274

Speed Demon

My friend/coworker just finished the Boston Marathon with these results. I now know never to piss her off to the point of chasing me.

Finish				Pace	Official Time	Overall	Gender	Division
				0:06:48	2:58:10	884	39	33

La Paz, La Paz

Es fruto de la justicia.

Thus, Justice Comes FIRST.

You can't be unjust and expect peace. I hope the rallies yesterday helped solidify that.

Si! Se puede!

Yesterday my mom called to make sure I "got [my] butt to the protest" . . . "there are protests all around the country, and I'm sure there's one in Boston" . . . "your grandfather is from Mexico," she said, as if I didn't know. And all of this without as much as a hello.

I did eventually get down there, but only after people were dispersing. It was still nice to walk upstream facing a constant flow of people all speaking different languages yet standing together for justice.

I do not claim to know everything about this issue, but I'm going to, for now, err on the side of thinking that a huge wall, a bunch of money, forcing churches to gather and disclose information, and some trigger happy border police are not going to solve either our economic or our 'terrorist' problems.

Different is....

American?

You would think that I, being a cultural anthropologist (if you can add the "-ologist" after a few short years of not exactly focused study) and an American, would know how Americans work culturally. I even took a class on American culture. I suppose we did actually cover this topic and it's not entirely new, but I hadn't thought about it recently until Laura jogged that memory for me in a recent post where she left us some interesting quotes from a Fulbright preparation packet. The paper is: “The Values Americans Live By” by L. Robert Kohls.

“Americans think they are more individualistic in their thoughts and actions than, in fact, they are. They resist being thought of as representatives of a homogeneous group, whatever the group. They may, and do, join groups…but somehow believe they’re just a little different, just a little unique, just a little special, from other members of the same group.”

How many times have I considered myself different, an outlier, outside the norm, beyond explanation, strange beyond belief and a whole host of other descriptors to indicate the same thing? Does that mean I'm America's American. Red, White and Blue through and through? Oh God, the thought of it disgusts me, yet, that sentiment furthers this guy's argument.

I mean, yeah, I'm in "finance", but I don't work for the man. I'm a Democrat, but have a Republican boyfriend. I go to church, but think the church is inherently evil (which is not why I like it). I'm in the Back Bay Chorale, but I'm the youngest. I do database work and am good at computers, but have no interest in becoming an IT professional or a programmer or any of that. I didn't even take math in college... and I'm guiding statistics students. I have two mommies--not even that is so different anymore.

Think of the ad campaigns that support this idea in American culture. "Different is Good." (Apple). And there's a new one which I saw repeatedly while watching the Masters' today: "What makes you special?" (IBM). There are plenty that talk about tailoring to your special needs etc.

So how did we get this way? Is it our economic system? Capitalism driving us to specialize, diversify, and drive toward the top? That they only way to be successful is to stand out from the pack? Or was it the culture that created our current economic system? Is it even that special that we want to be different? Are we still trying to break away from the British influence?

My experience is that people are often desperately seeking to "fit in" somewhere. Is our interest in non-conformity inherently conforming?

But, is there anything wrong with wanting to be different, special? Or is it just that thinking you're more special than you are (which, of course is insanely subjective and largely based on perspective) the thing we should watch.

I don't know, but I doubt that being aware of this concept is going to make me stop adding "that does analysis on environmental, social and governance factors" to the end of "I work for an investment research firm."

By Popular Demand

I added photos of myself to the Flickr set. They are from Jill, Joe, and Laura. I also bought a Flickr Pro account because evidently they don't show more than 200 at once in the free version. This means that I can have more sets as well, so you'll see that it's organized a little differently.

Unexpected

Inspired by all the biking that I made it through in Kyoto last week, I decided to ride my bike to work today. Then I hopped on after work...

One flat tire
One broken axle
One somewhat bruised tailbone
2 missed CT1 buses
and $90 later...

I made it to the Burren in Davis Square for a much deserved beer.

Bike in the shop until Friday night.

Announcements

On the way out of Japan we were greeted with this announcement from the airplane's lead flight attendant:

"If you're going to be sleeping with us tonight ... er, well, I mean, um, if you're going to... if you're planning on sleeping on the airplane ... please be sure to fasten your safety belt low and tight across your lap over your blanket so that we don't have to wake you if there is rough air."

There was a slightly delayed response, but it certainly garnered a chuckle out of the English-speaking members of the flight.

Okonomiyaki

"Good Fried/Cooked Thing" is what that literally means, but in practical terms, it is a pancake made with egg and savory batter. In the version we had, there were also soba noodles and pork involved. Then you choose one topping for them. I had garlic chicken, but you could choose from a range of vegetables, fruit and meat. The food is cooked on a large griddle by the chef dudes, then served at the table where there is another fairly large griddle in the middle of the table. We had to strip down a little bit to get that to work for us, but it was nice being warm for a change. Only fancy department stores and the like have central heat, so you're often found huddling around the heated seat on the train, a heated blanket, a heated toilet seat, or a space heater. In this case the table was hot hot hot, so no need for huddling. This is the bar where they made them and the menu is on the wall on the wooden panels. As you can see, there are plenty of choices (not one of which I can read).

There are a few more pics on Flickr, so visit if you want to see. We went to Nara yesterday and saw a gigantic Buddha and deer that bow before you feed them. I will give better descriptions of the photos once I'm not sharing a computer with 3 other people.

Yum!

This is a little pastry with red bean paste inside and it is delicious! No fish flavor...

Number Exchange

So far we've learned a few numbers in Japan.

2
Beeru Nihon. 2 Beers. Pretty self explanatory.

3 & 4
One of the main streets in the downtown area of Kyoto is Third Street. But, as you may or may not guess it is NOT written as a number, but rather as the name Sanjo and the kanji for three which, fortunately, is three horizontal lines. Fourth is Sijo, but the kanji is not so simple.

24.5
That's how many centimeters make the largest size women's shoe in Opa, a Japanese department store. 24.5 is about a 7.5 in our sizes. Another funny thing about Opa is that its pronunciation is apparently similar to the word that means "boobs." Oppai.

69
This is one we taught to an innocent Japanese girl named Junko (pronounced June-ko). After Karaoke (and non-stop drinking) I showed her my new shirt which says in perfect Engrish, "The magic 69 of sound." Joe, our travelling companion asked Junko, who speaks decent English, if she knew what 69 meant. Since she didn't I took it upon myself to explain that it meant (with pointing gestures) your mouth goes here and his mouth goes here. We were all a little tickled after that one.

Other learning:
The only sentence I can say with any consistency is "Toirey wa doko des ka?" Which means "Where's the toilet?"

Arigato gosai mas: Thank you very much. However, I almost said to someone who had sold me postcards: Arigato konichiwa. Which means "thank you hello". Every one talks really fast.

We do a lot of pointing and grunting when Laura isn't around.

This Week

Completed (as much as possible) a big project at work that went better than expected
Lost my credit card
Had $800 in charges removed
Lost my wallet (by leaving it at the office)
Became an official Harvard employee at the rate of $665/semester
Did my taxes
And prepared for my trip to Japan!

Needless to say, I'm in the middle of packing for my flight that leaves in 8 hours. With any luck, I will bring back images and stories from the land of the land of the rising sun that will knock your socks off. Your cute little Japanese socks.

Bush Detailed on Possible Katrina Destruction -- Does Nothing

MoveOn.org is currently making a campaign to get this word out and I wanted to help get this to the 6 people who read my blog. According to the Associated Press, the President was fully aware of the possible destruction and chose to relax and do nothing about it to prevent disaster. Please read the article and inform your friends. I could write a more compelling story, but I'm at work...

OK, after having actually read this (and several other articles) I have a few things to say. MoveOn is probably over doing it a little -- or at least my initial reaction may have been an over reaction. The spin back seems to be that "the President was attentive and asked questions", and "there wasn't a lot anyone could do", etc. Even if all this is true (and by the way, we should expect our president to be attentive when an imminent and deadly threat is on the verge of attacking), the fact remains that a) the president still said "I don't think anyone anticipated the breach of the levees" after having been "attentive" and "inquisitive" and b) the administration is still being secretive and opaque about documentation etc. It's not like this is a terrorist attack and we don't want the enemy to know our secret plans. If anything, we want people to know so that we can teach them our state-of-the-art response technology and lead by example.

The problem is either we are not so state-of-the-art or we (read: the administration) don't care enough when it's not in our back yard. I wonder what would have happened if Rita had been first. Clearly, they couldn't do it 2 in a row, but if Rita had been first would this have happened? Would there have been preparations? It's hard to say, but considering who was left behind, it's hard not to speculate that the folks in Texas would have had an easier time getting out and preparing.

I work in an industry that is pushing corporations toward more transparency. It's a big word these days. This administration is exactly the opposite and it's not surprising considering their leadership background is from companies like Halliburton whose corporate policy it is to hide things and keep secrets.

Granted, I don't know what they're actually doing and I don't know the demographics of the areas affected by Rita, and I don't even know good hard data on exactly who was left behind in New Orleans, but I'm not trying to prove a statistical hypothesis. What I do know is that this administration is not to be trusted. Preemptive war with less than stellar evidence and a laundry list of excuses, wars against people who try to stand up against them (Plame), no attention to the people whose children are fighting this mission-accomplished bloody war, wiretapping without informing the court and then making excuses and covering up, keeping the Straight Shooter under wraps for days, and now this... another blatant lie about what they did and didn't know.

I generally think of our President as a buffoon who is prone to inaction and confusion (think: reading the kindergarten book while the 2 towers go down). However, I think that he and his team have much much more charisma than we who dislike him give him credit for. That he made it through the debates against Kerry is as miracle. Ok, so people don't want another Slick Willy president who's smarter than they are. They'd rather have a conniving right hand man and team of cronies to lead this country. Fine. WHO ARE YOU?

President Bush is not stupid. He's cunning. The fact that he's gotten away with so much is absolutely proof.

New Pics

They're not too exciting, but I put up a few pictures from recent life on the flickr site. You can click on the little boppity flickr badge to your right or click here if you want to see them.

First is Always Better Than Second

This weekend, boyfriendpants and 4 of his b-school buddies competed in a "business bowl", which is a competition between peers on a business case and who can make the best presentation given 4-5 hours to prepare. It is an extremely subjective contest where the same set of judges doesn't even see every contestant in the class--in fact, judges see competitors in several different classes. Freshmen through Grads compete in their respective classes. Their case was reportedly about "fluff", or as I like to call it, Corporate Social Responsbility, and making the argument for (or against) it in terms of profitability.

Since I happen to be knee deep in this sort of data on a day-to-day existence, I was hired as a consultant. (I'm being paid in sexual favors, in case you were wondering). The event also includes some pretty incredible face time and networking opportunities with people in the industry and active recruiters, as those people are chosen as the judges.

The prizes are $350 (to each of 5 team members in each class), $200, and $100 for 1st, 2nd, and 3rd, respectively. So considering all of these facts you probably not surprised to learn that boyfriendpants and company were beyond livid about coming in second. Or maybe you're a rational human being and realize that it's a) a ridiculously subjective test of ability b) not based in fact or accuracy--no factchecking happens c) a great networking opportunity d) that 2nd prize still gets you $40/hour e) it gives you good high-pressure experience and networking opportunities to blow your mind.

Despite the fact that they took full advantage of all the opportunities presented to them, they were still pissed. So the night proceeded with a slightly different flair than we had all hoped for.

In any event, I went on with my life especially having an increased understanding of my firm's place in the market and in the thought leadership realm--a very good solid place, I'll have you know.

Today was more productive than it could have been especially with my renewed sense of purpose and understanding from this weekend's research, but less productive than I expected. First, I left early. Good sign right? Evidently not. It took me 25 minutes to go what is usually a 3 minute T-Ride. So my commute was about 55 minutes instead of 25.

Then I get to work, get in the flow, get things started, finished even, and then the beeping starts. "What is that?" said Michelle. "Oh it's just the copier again" said Kathleen. Then people start evacuating. It's actually the fire alarm. For real this time. And no, it was not my fault, nor was it attributed to anyone in my office despite the fact that our little waffle experiment did go a little haywire last week.

Evidently it was nothing because we were back in the building within 10 minutes. The firetrucks came, but left shortly after.

I get a call about an hour later from boyfriendpants on the subject of accounting. As it turns out, some team in last weekend's competition called a score audit and as a result, it was determined that his team actually won. They came in FIRST in the graduate competition. It was then that I realized that 1st really does feel better than 2nd.

Sorry Sasha.

Lazy

Don't you love a weekend when it's spent with someone you really like all while wearing PJs? Well I do.

And that's what I did. Jeff and I sat on the couch (while playing golf) and ordered food and basically vegged out all weekend. I did a little work from there and eventually did my taxes, but it was a 3-day weekend. There was a lot of time to do nothing, so I took advantage of it. My laundry pile disagrees, and my work load at the office does too, but what are you going to do?

On a sadder note, I just found out that my favorite new show is "on hiatus". So if you love Love Monkey, please tell CBS about it. More importantly Grant was in love and I don't want to have to pick up the pieces of his broken heart, so get on it people!!

Illiteracy and just plain Crazy

Sometimes people don't read. They can and they just refuse. Doesn't that just make you want to scream? That sometimes happens to me too. It's ok, though. You'll get through it.

Best

Yesterday was the best Valentine's Day ever. Hands down.

Jeffrey started it all by bringing me a plant because he'd "already killed enough flowers on the kidney infection" and the biggest card in the store. It's HUGE! Then he took me to the office so that lame girl could get the gift she so carefully picked out and wrapped--and promptly forgot. The Brooks Brothers PJs might have been frightfully similar to the ones her dad received at the office earlier in the day...

Then we had tasty wine, delicious dinner with very good live music, and lively conversation. It's hard to ask for more than that.

And it was good. Very very good.

And he loves the PJs... they were just too big. Tall does not equal Large at BB, evidently. But they're exchanged, so no problem.

Bottom Rung

I'm usually not excited about being on the bottom, but that all changes under different circumstances, doesn't it?

As of today, and I suppose after I complete some paperwork, I will officially be on the Harvard University payroll. After finding out that I nailed the class despite skipping a couple of sessions last semester, I decided it would be fun to try and TA for the class. I was encouraged by Mr. BoyfriendPants and sent my prof an email. As it turns out their enrollment this semester is a record high, so they actually need some some help grading homework. So, she asked me to do that. Not sure how much it pays, but it shouldn't be too bad or too many hours--and who's in that for the money anyway? Good line on the resume--if being lower on the ladder than a TA is good. I also get to remember it which is invaluable.

Who ever thought Anthro/Philo/French-never-took-math-in-college girl's first job in academia would be grading Statistics papers?

Weekend Bliss

Saturday:
Museum of Science. Pizza. Beirut.

Sunday:
Sleep. Sleep. Eat. Sleep.

Monday:
Work. Doctor. . . Discovery of Gnarly infection. . . Cipro. Home. Dozen Roses. Snack. Cuddle. Shrimp Fajita. Cuddle. Sleep.

Tuesday:
Wake. Work. Shop. TV. Lauging at stupid commercials.

Failure

This morning began with battery acid. Yes battery acid gushing out of my wireless mouse. I was going to do some work at home, but no, I spent the earlier part of this morning pouring baking soda into my mouse--and all because I put some stupidly old batteries in the poor thing. Nothing looks quite as helpless as an upside-down open-cased laser mouse.

Then, I got to the T Station where my T pass fell out of my hand and fluttered through the rushing throngs of MIT students eager to make their 9am class. Once I finally caught up to it, I realized that it was February... and my pass was for January. I tried the "I forgot it at home" line, but apparently that only works in college.

"The only thing we can take is a dollar twenty five," said the woman with her entourage of equally un-busy colleagues. So, after realizing that I'd spent my last cash on the coffee that was spilling down my hand, I went back outside to find some more.

Cambridge Trust's ATM was being serviced. They're the closest bank to the T and they decided to service it just before 9am. Now how smart is that? Not smart for me. So I head to BofA, where they committed highway robbery and charged me a whopping $2 just to use their stupid operational cash dispensing machine. Thieves!

So I returned to the T Station at this point sweaty, testy, and getting later by the minute. The unhelpful lady from before is now behind the glass of the collection booth fruitlessly explaining how to get to North Station to some poor, lost girl who I later learned had been "stranded in Boston" and was on her way back to Lawrence. Not quite sure of the whole story, but it involved "her boys" and a "crazy night".

Anyway, I'm late and the train is coming, so I slip my twenty into the collection tray hoping that this somewhat rude gesture will be passed off as someone who really just needs to get to work. The lady looks at me like I'd just cut an old lady in the grocery line and says (after a dramatic pause), "don't you have anything smaller than this?" I couldn't believe it. Isn't this the same woman who just turned me away for having the wrong month's pass in my hand? So I lost it and said incredulously, "Are you kidding me? No I don't have anything smaller."

So of course she takes her sweet time counting out her ones and fives and nickels and dimes so that I'm sure to miss the approaching train. Then she decides she wants to know why I "yelled" at her. I explained that I thought she recognized me from before and knew that I'd just been to the ATM--and that my day just wasn't going right yet.

So we kissed and made up and it was all good.

Then work happened. I was in good spirits until about 6:30 rolled around and I was being constantly asked to do stuff--after a pretty gruelling day. So I did it and left around 7:15--which wouldn't be bad or crazy if I were getting paid $100k and had a better title than "Research Data Analyst" standing behind those hours.

So basically I failed today. I got angry at everyone and nearly burned my fingers off with battery acid.

Luckily, redemption did come in the form of steamed artichokes with some killer roasted garlic butter sauce and chocolate chip cookies.

and other times...

We drink too much wine accompanied by too much bitching about work. I'm really not completely losing it. Just mostly.

However, if anyone does figure out what I want to be when I grow up, I'd love to know.

Thanks.

sometimes

sometimes we hate our jobs and don't know why.

sometimes we are not sure if we hate our job.

sometimes we are not sure what we'd rather do.

I think I fall into the 3rd category.

does anyone know?

thanks.

Breakdown Uplift

I didn't have to smoke a cigarette Friday night because:

a) Brian and Lisa forcibly tore me away (in tears) from the Bloomberg Machine
b) Sam bought me a beer
c) Prof. Weinstein sent me an email telling me that I got an A- in Stats
d) of Grant's general distaste for my staying at the office too late (in general)
e) Jeff's encouragement that I can do it and that I am consistently productive

Thank goodness for these people, because smoking is gross.
I hate cigarettes, but I was seriously considering it as an option.

Last night I had 2 dreams. In one, I had a baby named Chrystina. She was cute. In the other, I was friends with superheros, but it wasn't as good as it sounds and made me sleep until 9am. Both somewhat disturbing.

Housewarming Tonight

Who: You, if I know you or if Grant knows you.
What: Appetizers (baby homemade pizzas? some chrystina classics?)
When: 8pm ish and then maybe we'll go out. Low key ish.
Where: My house. The whole world doesn't need to know, so email me cg [at] motleyprincess [dot] com
Why: Because Grant and I just moved in and it's cold without a bunch of bodies. Ok, that part is a lie and it's supposed to be 60 degrees.

Sometimes You Just Have to Not

Sometimes we make mistakes and have to delete posts. Welcome to my world of stupidity.

Twice!

I managed to leave my phone in a restaurant twice this weekend... and leave it there for several hours before realizing it was gone. Oh I'm brilliant.

Santa, baby...

Once upon a time, I was a senior in high school. I was learning about Japanese literature in my AP English class and reading Memoirs of a Geisha. I fell in love. I desperately wanted to learn what a Kanji was and to find out by being there. Then Christmas came along. In my family, we do presents from each other Christmas Eve night and then Santa comes Christmas morning--that's when you get the good stuff. So Christmas Eve night, I open a package with a Lonely Planet guide to Japan. So, of course I'm thinking/hoping/praying that my stocking will bear some even more interesting fruit (like a ticket...). But no. Nothing quite like building up unrealisitic expectations....

Well that is all going to change: I AM GOING TO FREAKING JAPAN IN MARCH!!!

Travelzoo sent me an email yesterday morning with fares from $199 each way... so I sent an email to Jill with the link and "wanna go to Japan?" in the subject line (Laura live there... it's easy). By this afternoon she had purchased tickets for herself and her roommate, so I had to follow suit. The best part is that we will be on the same flight both ways. The only bad thing is that I will have to miss the first concert of the Spring because it is on the night that my flight leaves. I think I'll live. I can't wait to be among the ranks of those who have visited Laura in Japan. My life will be one step closer to complete. Now I just need to visit Leslie in Nicaragua which is supposed to happen this May. Then I can die in peace (or keep living in complete satisfaction).

All But One

So Sunday was spent putting things together and hanging things on walls. We're still not done--partially because my lovely dresser was missing a part... THE FREAKING BOTTOM OF THE DRAWER. So I have to go back to Stoughton. But at least this time I know you're supposed to take a right on Turnpike Drive.

Mirror Mirror on the Wall

Grant and I spent the day at IKEA today. Phew! It's over. We left here at about 9:15am and returned around 6pm--or about $770 later. All told, that's not bad. We bought 42 items with an average cost (including delivery of the big stuff) of $18.32. Most expensive item was $99.99; least, 99 cents.

Sudoku on the train was followed by a little conversation with the shuttle driver. We were the only ones on so early in the morning, so we thought he was making small talk when he said, "Have you all ever been here before?" "No," we replied. Out comes the cell phone... "Yeah, George, I'm on Turnpike Drive, was I supposed to take a left or a right at the light? Yeah, Ok, Thanks." This was followed by a U-Turn.

Then, in one of the home storage sections, a man came up to me and said "You're not, I mean, you look like, well, is your name Gabby? Your name isn't Gabby is it?" "No." "Ok, I thought not, but you look just like, well this girl we know looks just like you. Did you hear me yelling 'Gabby, Gabby'?" "No. Sorry, that wouldn't have registered..." "Right, ok. Sorry." His wife/girlfriend looked embarassed. "Quite alright."

Grant and I continued on our way and much later in the day, after lunch in the cafe, another such incident occurred. I was looking at this dresser that I ended up buying when Grant came back to the room I was in and told me that he ran into that same couple again--only this time it was the wife/girlfriend with the interesting remark. She turned around and saw Grant and said, "Oh! I thought you were a mirror image of my husband!" When Grant came back to tell me about this interesting case of mistaken identity, I hit the floor. I was literally crouched down on the ground losing it. I laughed and laughed until I cried. I could hear people walking by commenting on the situation and I think some of them thought I was for real crying and gave Grant some dirty looks. The situation just built on itself and I was afraid that I was either going to pee my pants or never ever be able to regain control of my body. Eventually I did, but had several flashbacks to that moment throughout the day.

On our way back to the T, the bus was much bigger. Very fancy too. I was looking down at the speedometer and noticed that it registered up to 120mph. I thought that was pretty funny until I looked down while cruising along the highway and noticed we were going 100mph... then I saw all the cars whizzing by and realized it was kph--then I thought it was hysterical and almost lost it again. Of course a bus can't go 120mph. Not even a fancy one.

Then the T ride where I ran into the doppelganger of my freshman year roommate (I restrained myself from asking her if she was Jess Szeto for fear of ending up like that other couple). Cab ride home was uneventful and the rest has just involved putting things on the wall and putting other things together. All in all, a good day. I like IKEA.

Now, I need to study for Tuesday's Statistics exam. Oh joy.

Who are the people in your neighborhood?

Monday, I accidentally spit on someone on the T. Then he put on his glove in order to avoid it in the future. I got a nasty look. Really, I was just yawning, and it just popped out. I had no control.

~*~*~

Grant and I tried to ride the CT2 home. We were cold. There was a "Limited: Out of Service" bus coming our way when I said "Can we just get on anyway, please?" in jest, but in hope. And then it stopped. The driver said, "CT2?". And we said, "yessir" and hopped aboard.

~*~*~

Met the shopkeeper of the local convenience store. They have "everything", but "you just might be able to see it". So far we've tested them on butter, cream cheese, lemon juice, and baking soda. They passed. Granted, I didn't attempt with the fresh parmesan, but I didn't want to end up with Kraft.

~*~*~

We keep trying to meet our neighbors and then the cookies either get eaten (Grant's) or they turn into rocks (mine). Good thing I like rocks. Chocolate chip rocks.