Oh, Cleveland!

Oh, Tacoma

2006-12-25T14:30:00.000-05:00

Yes, it's been almost six months. But so many friends and family have told me that they miss reading my blog. That warms my little heart. Do I have enough momentum to start this thing up again? We'll see.

It's always a little bizarre being back in my hometown, but it's been a good trip so far. I've spent time with friends and cousins that I had not seen in years. That is a good thing.

Lots of people asking about the wedding - and dropping hints one way or another as to whether they are planning on making the trip. That, too, is a good thing. I need to get a handle on how many guests we'll actually have before I can go much farther in the planning process (or, rather, prod my coordinator to go farther in the planning process).

That's about it for now. Not the most dramatic comeback post, huh.

Oh, and Merry Christmas!

Catching Up, Falling Down

2006-07-17T15:45:00.000-04:00

If a tree falls in the middle of your front yard on a lazy Sunday morning, does it make a sound?

Why, yes. In fact, it does. An alarming sound, if you're laying on the couch in a post-sleep stupor.

Actually, what came down was not a tree per se, but merely a large limb formerly attached to this massive tree on the edge of our front yard. Fortunately it hit nothing but air on its way down; if our neighbors had parked in the very front part of their driveway, as they often do, their station wagon would have been toast.

So Drew and I spent the better part of our Sunday afternoon sweating it out in the thick July heat, moving pieces of logs and clippering and bundling up branches. Despite my enthusiasm for Drew to use the chainsaw I bought him lasts Christmas, some neighbors down the block beat him to it. (Which was probably a good thing - that guy knew what he was doing with that saw. We would have taken all day with it, I'm sure.)

I can't even imagine what a pain it would be to have a full tree come down. I am crossing my fingers!

Other than playing lumberjack, life has been pretty standard, really, around here. I just got back from a work conference in Vegas and managed to take some money out of the Hard Rock casino in the process. I've never been a huge gambler - okay, I've never been any kind of gambler, aside from the occasional pull on a quarter slot - but I must say it was rather fun. Blackjack and craps, they treated me well!

In just two weeks, we go down to the Bahamas to commence the Wedding Planning process. More details to come on that...

Rookie Chef Mistake

2006-06-05T21:20:00.000-04:00

Note to self:

When roasting red peppers in the oven, do NOT assume it will be easier to clean up charred pepper juices by rinsing the glass baking dish immediately upon its removal from the oven. Now I have to clean up a sink full of broken glass. Which is way worse than charred pepper juices.

Argh.

Gratuitous Cat Photo

2006-05-26T19:09:00.000-04:00

I am spending the early part of my Friday evening waiting for a work call. Bleh. So I decided to finally get around to copying all of the pictures from my digital camera onto my computer.

And you know what? I, apparently, spend ALOT of time in the kitchen, by myself, taking pictures of my cat. There were three separate "Emily in the kitchen" series of photos. And most of them are really bad, blurry pictures, which means I probably took them after a glass of wine or three.

But this one is actually pretty cute.

You know, it's a really good thing I am engaged now, because I would SO end up as a crazy old cat lady.

Coffeehouse Dreams

2006-05-23T12:22:00.000-04:00

Today, I have stepped into the shoes of someone I have always secretly envied: The person working on a laptop at Starbucks.

To me, this person (and there is always at least one in every Starbucks at any given time) has it made. In my imagination, this person is writing her soon-to-be-bestselling novel, or studying for her philosophy exam, or running a successful home business. Conquering the world while sipping a four-dollar latte. It always seemed like quite the perfect life.

Well, I can now say from experience...it's not perfect, but it's not bad either.

The client site I am currently working at has a notoriously crappy internet connection. And since my role there largely involves collecting information from various operating units via email, that is sort of a problem. After days of harassing the company's tech help desk, I finally broke down, bought a T-Mobile HotSpot account, and set up shop at the Starbucks down the road.

And I am enjoying it. Starbucks, surprisingly, plays quite good music (so far today I've heard Calexico, Ben Harper and the entire KT Tunstall album, which is one of my current favorites). Plus, the lack of oversight is nice. Okay - I admit to some indulgent internet surfing this morning. But, hey, I'm getting my work done and the feeling of independence is refreshing.

The downside? That in order to access an electrical outlet, I am relegated to the hard wooden chairs in the back instead of cushy velvet ones up front. And let's just say that after a Venti black coffee, I am just a little bit overcaffinated.

Now only if I were penning a novel instead of consolidating cash flow statements. Life would be perfect.

So Tired

2006-05-22T13:35:00.000-04:00

I have seriously had ENOUGH of the torturous LAX-CLE red eye. Last night I was fortunate enough to have an empty seat next to me (one of only two on the plane) and actually slept okay. But...ugh. It's just not worth it. Seriously, next time I am flying from the west coast, I must remind myself: there is absolutely nothing wrong with that afternoon flight. Sure, it'll mean one less evening with family/friends, but sleep is a good and necessary thing.

And salt in the wound: it is FREEZING COLD here in Ohio. There is actually a frost warning for tonight. Yuck.

Counting the hours until I can go home and go to bed....

Mouseguest

2006-05-17T16:37:00.000-04:00

I don't know which suprises me more:

(1) That when I found the dead mouse on the bedroom floor this morning, I managed to transport it outside with a minimal level of freak-out; or

(2) That there is a real possibility that Emily caught and killed this mouse.

Now, I am not the type of girl who runs for the nearest chair and shrieks upon discovery of an unwanted rodent. But nor am I exactly what you would call "calm" or "cool-headed" in such situations. I have nothing against mice. I've shared many a campsite with a furry little friend or two, and it makes me giggle when I see them scurrying around our garden. But...in the house? In the bedroom? No. No, no, no. The fewer living things that share my bedroom the better. (Drew and Emily excepted, of course.)

(One additional confession. Normally upon discovery of something unpleasant in the house, I call it to Drew's attention and calmly demand its removal. This applies mostly to spiders. It would have applied to this morning's mouse corpse, but Drew is traveling for work this week. In Arizona. And yes, I called him at 4:30 AM his time to inform him of the situation.)

Okay, so how did a dead mouse end up smack in the middle of the bedroom floor? An unlikely place for a mouse to expire, it seems. Which means that...Emmy put it there. Perhaps this doesn't seem too incredulous; after all, Emily is a cat, and cats catch mice.

But here's the thing about Emmy. She is not exactly the Einstein of cats. In fact, I often wonder if she is a little bit special. Dear, sweet Emmy. This is a cat who once sprung backwards and smacked her head into a chair because the spider she was sniffing moved. In fact, she frequently smacks into walls, furniture, boxes and anything else in her flight path. After three years of chasing a the laser pointer's little red light, she still doesn't get it. Every so often, she springs up into the air and bolts from the room for no reason at all. Aborable, funny, good-natured...these are words to describe Emmy. Smart, graceful, stealthy...not so much.

So how does a cat who is afraid of her own shadow manage to catch, kill and transport a mouse? A mouse that is far bigger than the little bathroom spiders which make her tremble? I don't get it. Perhaps she didn't, and the mouse did end up there on its own.

Well, perhaps we will have a chance to find out. No one ever has just one mouse in their house. And that's a problem that I am simply too overwhelmed to think about right now.

Keyless Entry

2006-05-01T10:24:00.000-04:00

Ever wondered what would happen if you lost the keys to your rental car?

I can give you a general idea:

(1) You'll have to fork out several hundred dollars for a locksmith to come out and re-key the vechicle and re-create its fancy "electronic" key, a process that will take all of eight minutes once he arrives;

(2) You'll probably miss your flight.

(3) If you're on the last flight out of the evening, you'll be stuck in your departure city. A perfectly reasonable solution to this is to get on the highway and drive all night (with the newly re-keyed rental car) to your destination, incurring additional fees from the rental car company for dropping it off in a different city. When you finally get home at 4:30 AM, you will be so wired from the Diet Cokes you consumed on the road that you will be completely incapable of falling asleep. After an hour or two of fitful sleep, getting up for work the next morning will be nearly impossible.

Not that I know from experience or anything. YAWN.

Actually for the record, it was Drew who lost the keys. And we were just in Chicago, so the drive wasn't all that bad.

But still, I am totally exhausted right now. I'm on my second cup of coffee and about to start a third. What has happened to me? In college I used to pull all nighters on a weekly basis, and I never felt as brain-dead as I do this morning. Getting old. It sucks.

The Rebirth

2006-04-27T16:34:00.000-04:00

Top Ten Reasons for Utter Laziness (Or: Why I Haven't Updated My Blog In, Like, Two Months):

Ten. The hot pink-ness of it all was starting to give me a headache. Hence: the Green.
Nine. I've been spending way too much time with the lawn mower and bags of mulch. (Upside: the yard is starting to actually look normal, instead of overgrown and sloppy in a "THAT-house-on-the-block" sort of way.)
Eight. Emmy's been exceptionally needy lately. I think she has a little spring fever, in spite of her lack of functioning ovaries.
Seven. I've been trying to learn how to ride my new bike. Or, rather, how to not fall off of it. Or how to not run in to the bumper of a parked truck and gouge most of the flesh around my knee, requiring dozens of stitches. (Hey, it could happen. Again.)
Six. Following the ongoing degeneration of Crazy Tom Cruise has been occupying a large amount of my energy. (I mean, holy crap. That guy is crazy. Katie, honey, call me! You can stay in our guest bedroom until you get it figured out!)
Five. Work has been pretty busy. Really, it actually has. And the projects I've been staffed on have involved lots of "team work" and "client interaction" and other nonsense that prevents me from creating an antisocial hideaway in my cubicle and blogging all day.
Four. Trying to do a little more running and a little less...what do I do instead of running? Sit on the couch and eat truffles? Lay in bed and count cobwebs? Not sure. Whatever it is, I need a little less of it.
Three. I'm playing in a coed flag football league. (Yes, you heard that right. And yes, I am the only one on the team who is afraid of the ball. I'm what you might call a benchwarmer. Or a cheerleader who plays only when we don't have enough girls. But hey, it's fun.)
Two. Seriously, work has been pretty busy. In fact, I should be doing work right now.

And the finale...

...drumroll...

One. Drew and I got engaged!

Look forward to many vomit-inducing wedding planning posts in the future.

Just kidding.

(Kind of.)

July, July

2006-03-13T16:12:00.000-05:00

Well, it could be. Looking out my office window I see 70 and sunny, with clear blue skies mirroring the clear blue lake.

Weird: It's supposed to snow tonight.

Weirder: One of my coworkers just returned from a weekend trip to Phoenix, where it snowed.

I just hope I get out of here in time to do a little run or something in the nice weather before cold winter creeps back in.

Slammed

2006-02-21T17:51:00.000-05:00

Ahhhh.

Life is humming pleasantly along. You're just busy enough at work that your days pass quickly, but not so busy that you're camping in your cubicle. You're enjoying weekends (mostly) off, luxuriating in full 24 hour periods wherein you don't feel compelled to check your email. You're looking forward to your weekend trip to Florida, digging out things like sunscreen and flip flops. Life is good.

And then....

KA-POW. A previously-undisclosed deadline smacks you from behind. So much for things like "leisure time" and "weekends off" and "leaving your computer at the office."

*Sigh*

The ASSMAN's Brother

2006-02-18T13:27:00.000-05:00

The car: Typical domestic sedan

The driver: Typical retired suburban male

The license plate: BOOBIES

Heh.

Digging the New Digs

2006-02-16T13:20:00.000-05:00

So we moved offices last weekend. One floor up, opposite side of the building, nice lake view. This was a highly anticipated event for a couple of reasons. First, our old office was an appropriate size and layout for about six people to work comfortably. This worked just fine a year ago, when we had six people. We now have fifteen. In the old office space, the conference room was doing quadruple duty: conference room, storage room, work space for people with no desks, place when you go to make a private phone call, etc. We were literally tripping over each other and stumbling over bankers boxes. It was a dangerous situation.

Second, the new office space has been under construction for almost six months now. It was actually kind of neat to watch it transform: walls were knocked out, exposing wires and pipes and all sorts of cool stuff that you never think about being behind those sterile office walls. We discovered that the floors weren't level (and still aren't - there are sections of the office where, just walking down the hallway, you'd swear you were drunk or something). Electrical issues, plumbing issues, design issues, drywall issues....it was all very educational. And, apparently, very annoying and costly. We were scheduled to move in October. We moved in February.

My new work space is definitely an improvement over the old one. I'm still in a cubicle - couldn't sweet-talk my way into an office, unfortunately - but it is the Rolls Royce of cubicles. There are two things that make for a good cubicle: good exposure/lighting/view, and guarded access. My new space excels on both counts. If I swivel my ergonomic chair, I see Lake Erie. The window lets in an abundance of daylight. I am nicely positioned so that my computer faces away from everyone else - and the walls are just low enough that I can see people coming from a mile away. Hell, I don't even need Alt-Tab anymore!

Anyway, I know, office talk, yawn. But when you spend 80% of your waking hours somewhere, it's important that you like it there. And I actually sort of like it here. My cubicle has a lake view - not so bad...

...as long as no one reminds me that my office used to have an ocean view.

That's one of those things that I just try not to think about. :)

Pepper Love

2006-02-13T18:54:00.000-05:00

I have been cooking alot. I think that's mostly a function of it being winter and there not being a whole lot else to do around here in the evenings. (Food + wine + a DVR full of O.C. episodes = a pretty decent night, in my book.) Anyway, I've sort of surprised myself by having more hits than misses lately. (Although last night's Shrimp Bisque was just okay. Next time I will dump some chili flakes in there to spice it up. The stupid recipe called for Tarragon...who on earth has Tarragon at their house? And no way was I going back to the store just for Tarragon. So I made do and it definitely lacked a little something. Oh well.)

ANYWAY. Two recent favorites involve an ingredient I hadn't really done much with - roasted red pepper - so I was surprised when they came out so well.

**********
ROASTED RED PEPPER BISQUE
Serves 2.

2 large red bell peppers
1T olive oil
1 medium onion, chopped
2 cloves of garlic, chopped
1 T butter
1/4 C white wine
1 C chicken broth
1/8 t cayenne pepper
1/8 t white pepper
Some red pepper flakes if you like it spicy
2 T heavy cream (or more if you like really creamy soup)
1/4 C shredded hard cheese - I used Naked goat cheese, parmesean or asiago would also work well
fresh ground pepper
salt

First: Roast the red peppers. After washing, pat dry and slice lengthwise, removing stems and seeds and that white stuff inside. Rub with olive oil and roast on a grill or under a broiler, turning often, until skins are blistered and peppers are tender. Place on a plate loosely covered with foil and set aside.

Second: Make the soup. Melt the butter in a deep skillet over medium heat. Add onions, stir for a few minutes, then add garlic. Cook until tender, about 10 minutes, stirring often. Make sure that garlic doesn't burn! Add wine, chicken broth and spices and simmer on med-low for a while until the mixture begins to reduce noticeably, perhaps 10 minutes or so. (Feel free to add more spices, as the amounts above are pretty conservative.)

Meanwhile, your peppers have cooled off a bit and need to be sliced. Cut them into small chunks, about 1". Toss them into the skillet with everything else and let the whole thing simmer for yet another 10 minutes.

Third: Mix it up. Take the skillet off of the burner and set it aside to cool down. Once the mixture has cooled a little, puree it in batches in a blender or food processor. (Hot liquids can be a real pain in the blender, so be careful!) Return soup to skillet and rewarm over medium low heat. Mix in cream to the extent desired. Add salt to taste. If soup has become unbearably thick, add more chicken broth.

Fourth: Eat. Ladle into bowls, top with fresh ground pepper and cheese, and serve. Voila!

**********
RED PEPPER CROSTINI WITH BALSAMIC SYRUP
Serves many as an appetizer, or just you for dinner if you're feeling indulgent

(Drew gets credit for finding the recipe that this is very loosely based on, but I made up the syrup so I am pretty much taking credit.)

2 large red bell peppers
2 T olive oil
1 skinny baguette
1 8-oz. package spreadable goat cheese

For the syrup:
2 T olive oil
2 T balsamic vinegar
1 T honey
1 T sugar
pinch of salt

Do the syrup first, as it takes a while to cool before you can serve it. Combine all ingredients except salt in a small saucepan. Wisk until oil and vinegar are combined and honey is dissolved. Place over medium low heat until mixture it hot and sugar is thoroughly dissolved. Add pinch of salt and transfer to a small bowl. Cover and set aside. (Or, if you are me and you DIDN'T do the syrup first, place in freezer to speed-cool because guests are eyeing the rest of the ingredients hungrily and you want them to wait for the syrup, dammit, because that's how you're supposed to eat it!)

Anyway.

Wash bell peppers and slice into thick, short strips (about 1" x 1.5"), discarding stems and seeds and white stuff. Toss lightly with olive oil and arrange in a single layer on broiler pan or in grilling basket. Roast until skin is blistered and lightly charred. Set aside to cool.

Slice baguette into thin slices, 1/4" to 1/2". Bake or toast until light golden brown.

Spread goat cheese generously on each toast and top with a slice of roasted pepper. Return to your syrup - it should be cool by now, and will have thickened. Rewisk if necessary and drizzle over toasts.
**********

Now I've gone and made myself really, really hungry. And I still have to go to the store and get the fixins for Drew's super secret valentine's dinner tomorrow night. I am so going to end up buying something totally inappropriate at the grocery store, like a giant frozen pizza or tub of cookies, just because I am hungry.

Bon appetit!

My Lumps

2006-02-10T13:17:00.000-05:00

It all started with a little chill.

"Does anyone else think it's cold in here?" I query the office in general, wrapping my scarf around my shoulders like a shawl. It's Tuesday afternoon and I am positively shivering in my cubicle.

Of course they don't. They're guys. They'd be perfectly happy to work in a meat locker. I shrug and get myself a cup of hot tea to thaw my freezing hands.

Three hours later, I am wearing my coat and my scarf, and am cuddling up to my laptop, attempting to use it as a heat source. It is becoming increasingly clear that I have a problem here. I am running a fever. I am getting sick.

So I spend the next thirty-six hours buried under a down comforter attempting to "work from home" (translation: "falling asleep while reading a deposition") and nurse my body back to health. Finally the fever breaks. I feel good enough to take a shower - which, at this point, is badly needed. While rubbing shampoo into my hair, I discover something startling.

A...lump? Wait, no, not just one...several weird lumps all over my neck and scalp. Strange, tender, painful lumps. It appears as if my lymphatic system is suffering something of a traffic jam. I hop out of the shower, pile my damp hair into a knot, and examine my neck: strange, visible lumps. It looks like I am smuggling my marble collection around in my neck.

Eww.

Disgusted and fascinated, I decide that I definitely have to make it in to the office tomorrow, lingering illness or not. Working with a bunch of guys, I am constantly on the receiving end of gross-outs. It's time to turn the tables, for once.

Alas, by the time I arrived at work this morning, the lumps had dispersed themselves, with the exception of one defiant holdout on my lower neck. So much for freaking everyone out. Still, I did what I could.

Concerned co-worker: "Hey, welcome back. How are you feeling?"
Me, grinning: "Wanna feel my tumor?"
Concerned co-worker: "That's disgusting."

Heheh.

And now the last lump is slowly melting away. I survived my malady, and just in time for the weekend.

I guess laughter really is good medicine.

Perspective

2006-02-06T11:14:00.000-05:00

This morning, for the first time in a long time, I was actually looking forward to coming to the office.

Okay, so that's not entirely true. I would have rather crawled into bed or flopped on the couch to watch Saved By The Bell. But as I was sitting my window seat on the red-eye back from L.A. this morning, watching the eastern horizon turn from black to intense crimson, all I could think about was how glad I was to not be going to a client site today.

The little things about the office that I always took for granted - the internet, the copier, my own telephone, a clean bathroom - now seem like extravagent luxuries. I mean, wow! If I have to print something I can print it myself and if I get bored I can take a break to write in my blog and if I have to pee I don't have to endure a facility that smells like an outhouse after a dystentary outbreak. Amazing.

Right around two o'clock, the novelty will wear off and it will occur to me that I didn't sleep at all last night and I just left sunny LA to come back to snowy Cleveland and I have a crapload of work to get done and I haven't seen Drew since like last Wednesday and I really don't want to be at the office at all because I would much rather be at home on the couch watching Saved By The Bell.

But I'm riding this positive attitude at long as it lasts.

I can't shampoo myself.

2006-01-24T07:20:00.000-05:00

Sometime around last November, I told myself something like the following: This winter, I should go to the gym a couple of times a week and lift some weights. My upper body is pathetic and it's nasty outside anyway.

Fast forward two months. I have been to the gym to lift weights exactly twice.

Last night was night number three, and I apparently decided to make up for lost time by performing every weight-related excercise I could think of. And today, I literally can't move my arms above my head. I have no idea how I am going to manage to blow-dry my hair.

Off to take some advil. Why am I such an idiot?

International House of Incompetence

2006-01-22T17:34:00.000-05:00

It's Sunday, late morning, local IHOP. I arrive a few minutes behind Drew - we're in separate cars because he's headed straight to the office after our ritual Sunday brunch. I enter the packed lobby to find him at the host desk, heading up a crush of annoyed-looking patrons.

"What's going on?" I ask, pushing through the crowd.

"There's a wait," he says bitterly. Yeah, okay, I think to myself. It's prime pancake time on a weekend. Seems reasonable.

Then I take a quick peek into the dining room. There are literally a dozen empty tables within my direct line of sight. I give Drew a raised eyebrow and he nods. At the host stand, an urgent conversation is taking place between the hostess and several servers.

"Maybe they're short staffed," I suggest. I worked as a hostess for a summer; I have an inkling of how these things work. And I also know how completely obnoxious it is when a customer (excuse me, a "guest") demands to know why they can't have a particular table or makes assumptions about the status of things in the dining room. I definitely do not want to be that customer.

"Nope," says Drew, tight-lipped. "They are seating the wait list in order. We are unfortunately behind a party of eight."

"That's ridiculous!" I glance back at the dining room (full of empty two-tops) and then at the lobby (full of hungry couples). This is ridiculous.

The mob around the host stand enlarges as more and more parties of two and four add their names to the wait list. Finally, a frenzied server arrives at the desk with a manager in tow. Curse words are exchanged. Seconds later the frenzied server taps Drew's shoulder, points to a table ten feet from the host stand and flings a couple of menus at us. As we sip our orange juice we watch the lobby clear as the angry mob is dispersed throughout the restaurant. Crisis resolved.

"But they said I had to seat them in order!" I hear the hostess protest. God, it must suck to get fired from your hostess job at IHOP.

I'm swallowing my last bite of pancake when Drew looks up at the host stand in alarm.

"Uh oh. It's going down up there."

A tall man with a very red face is looming over the desk. I catch snippets of conversation: "...party of eight..." "...forty-five minutes ago...."

Poor guy.

The things we'll endure for pancakes.

Weekend Work

2006-01-14T15:32:00.000-05:00

Nothing like kicking off your weekend with a Friday late-afternoon staffing meeting, which could have easily been construed as a how-to seminar with a title like "Kissing Your Personal Life Goodbye" or "Ten Ways to Swap Sleep for Billable Hours" or "Why Weekends are Overrated."

In other words we are rather busy at work right now.

Which is precisely why I should be getting some work done this afternoon, instead of sitting here with the cat on my lap, eating spicy sesame noodles and catching up on a week's worth of Defamer gossip. But...ugh. I'm kind of burned out right now. I feel like I need a few hours of uselessness.

AND, it's snowing again. All week it was unseasonally warm - an amazing 60 degrees and sunny outside. All week I watched this from the small window of the joyless conference room in which I toiled. All week I looked forward to maybe a nice little run in shorts and a tee shirt or something this weekend. Wendesday, Thursday, Friday: Sunny and warm, sunny and warm, sunny and warm. Saturday: Cold and snowy. Screw you, mother nature, you miserable wench.

Alright, time to get to work I suppose. Thank god bonus time is just around the corner.

Hot or Not

2006-01-07T17:19:00.000-05:00

There is definitely some dubious science behind this Men's Health "Fit and Fat" city thing that gets published every year (scroll to the bottom of the article for the lists). How on earth is this crap measured?? I mean, come on. How is it possible that Cleveland was on the fittest list last year and the fattest list this year? Believe me when I say that Clevelanders were fat then and they're fat now. There is no discernable difference between this year and last year.

Also, I'm highly skeptical of the inclusion of Washington D.C. on the fittest list. That city is flabby and unattractive like no other! A fun place, no doubt, but not exactly a bastion of hotness.

And Los Angeles is many things, but FAT is not one of them.

I wonder where NYC falls on this ridiculous scale?

Anniversary!

2006-01-06T00:05:00.000-05:00

It's fast approaching: the first birthday of "Oh, Cleveland!" I can't believe I started doing this a whole year ago.

And what better way to celebrate than to not make a meaningful post of any sort for at least two weeks?

*Sigh*

The best excuse I can offer is that I've been stuck working long hours at a client site - at which I have no internet access whatsoever - since I returned from Christmas travels. Seriously, how did people get through the work day before the internet? I feel very hypocritical saying that. After all, I am known to opine extensively on how twenty-five-year-olds are the last cohort to truly remember not having email and internet and all of that, thus making us incredibly unique and somehow superior to, say, twenty-two-year-olds. But...holy crap, things suck when you don't have the internet! I really can't imagine not having it. It is indispensible for workday survival. I'm counting the days until I get to go back to my normal office and work like a normal person. (29, to be precise.)

Anyway, my weekend is blissfully free of formal plans, so I'll try to do an update of some sort and get back on a regular schedule of writing. I very much miss sitting down to write something on a regular basis, even if it is frivolous blog material.

Until then...

Happy Boxing Day

2005-12-27T03:35:00.000-05:00

...and Merry Christmas too.

Tomorrow marks the end of my annual stay at home in Tacoma; I will return to Cleveland and normal life.

Unfortunately, I am out of vacation days and therefore must make a requisite appearance in the office on Wednesday and Thursday. And I think we actually might be pretty busy, so that sucks. Oh well.

Next stop on the holiday travel train: Chicago, New Year's Eve.

Dog Days

2005-12-19T17:44:00.000-05:00

So Friday night was our office Christmas party. And you know it's a good party when you come home with your co-worker's dog.

I'm not kidding. Let me explain. Our festivities ended at my co-worker's apartment at a rather late hour. A few of us, having failed to overindulge ourselves sufficiently at the fancy steak dinner and the comedy club and the swanky lounge, decided to end the evening with a nightcap. And I was stoked. My coworker and his girlfriend had recently acquired a Yorky-Pekinese mix puppy. He weighs six pounds. I was very excited to play with him.

Did I mention the pup's name is Steve?

Yeah.

Anyway, we rendezvoused with Steve, had a couple of beers, and were having a pretty good time. Then I got an idea.

Me: "Can we babysit Steve for the weekend? He and Emmy would have SOOOOO much fun!"
Drew: "Whoa, wait, we can't - "
Coworker: "I'll get his carrier!"

The thing about Steve is that he's a little bit high maintenance. Cute as hell, but also incredibly clingy. If you're there, he's either underfoot or on your lap. And if you're not there, he's yipping like a maniac, waiting for you to come back. By the end of our dog-sitting weekend, I would totally understand why my coworker was so enthusiastic about having a couple of days off.

I was sad to see Steve go when I dropped him off on Monday morning. But, wow - having a dog is tiring. And Emmy felt the same way. Not that she didn't get along with Steve - she is, after all, about twice his size - but I think she was sort of like, "Why the hell is this thing making so much noise? And why won't it leave me alone?"

Anyway, it was fun to pretend to have a puppy for the weekend, but I have a greater appreciation of how much work it actually is. Someday we'll be ready for it, but maybe not quite yet.

Not Gonna Find it Here

2005-12-15T10:57:00.000-05:00

It's entertaining, once in a while, to look at what brings people to this website. Not surprisingly, I get a fair number of search engine hits from people looking for things in Cleveland: firewood, pommegranites, Ipex bras.

But some of the others are a little weird:

buffalo wings bone intestine problem humans (Google)
beverly hills hoe shelby (Google)
mr. belding's wife (Google)
sneaker bug (Google)
dirty apparel cleveland oh (Google)

People search for some strange crap.

Life Imitates Comedy

2005-12-14T10:03:00.000-05:00

Substitute "Quahog, Rhode Island" for "Seminole County, Florida" and the opening sentence of this article TOTALLY reads like something from the Family Guy:

A 500-pound man in Seminole County, Fla., was arrested Tuesday on suspicion of scamming fast-food restaurants out of large amounts of milk shakes and tacos, according to a Local 6 News report.

That's definitely Peter Griffinesque. And can't you just picture Tom Tucker reading that on the news?

Necessities

2005-12-12T10:00:00.000-05:00

Snow-repellant yet breathable jacket? Check.

Gore-tex running shoes with extra-burly tread? Check.

Hat, gloves, chapstick? Check.

Unfailingly positive attitude?

Ahem.

These are the essenstials for running outside in the winter. And that last one always gets me.

I was already in a sour mood yesterday morning when I loaded on all of my fancy winter gear and headed out for a long run. I had overslept and missed the group trail run, which meant I'd be shuffling along by myself. Boo. And it was snowing. And freezing. And being that it was relatively early on a Sunday morning, I would likely find a bunch of unplowed streets and unshoveled sidewalks. Less than ideal, to put it mildly.

I had been plodding along for just over an hour, cursing the snow as it slid around under my feet, when I saw a figure approaching slowly from the other direction on the opposite side of the lonely street. As it came closer, I saw that it was a fellow runner, out enduring the same miserable conditions as me.

Except that this other guy - an older man with a grizzled look that suggested decades of running - wore nothing but shorts and a cotton tee shirt.

We exchanged pleasantries as we passed. He matched my muffled hello with a genuine smile and a cheerful "Good morning!" How he wasn't freezing to death, I still don't understand. Fat snowflakes slapped his bare arms and legs; his hair and eyelashes were tinted white with frost. Yet he seemed as happy to be out running as if it were a mild summer day.

Suddenly my expensive ensemble of high-tech fabrics seemed silly. I crossed the street and followed the other runner's footsteps for a while. That guy really captured the simplicity and purity of running. Here I was, decked out in hundreds of dollars worth of expensive winter running gear and I was miserable. And there he was, in his simple tee shirt and shorts, having a great run.

The moral? All of the Gore-tex in the world won't get you through the winter if you don't have a good attitude.

But, damn - shorts and a tee shirt. That's crazy.

Out in the Cold

2005-12-09T15:18:00.000-05:00

I was going to write a post telling the Story Of My Morning, a.k.a. How I Got Locked Out Of The House In A Snowstorm After Going To The Gym And Apparently Losing My House Key While Drew is Traveling for Work, but I've told it so many times today that I'm boring myself.

It will suffice to say it was a really crappy morning for me. But not for the locksmith, who is now $85 righer. Growl.

Vexing Verb Use

2005-12-08T11:30:00.000-05:00

Here at work, they call me the Grammar Nazi.

That's definitely an exaggeration, but I do tend to get kind of worked up about matters of language. I know; I'm a nerd. But whenever I get an email imploring me to submit my expense's or a sign advertising "Fresh" Fruit, I get a little bit agitated.

So you can imagine my consternation when, upon examining a bottle of body lotion last night, I came across the following statement on the front label:

With extra skin hydrators to provide immediate relief and insure future comfort.

Insure! When it should be ensure! Right there on the front of a major name-brand product label! Unbelievable. I passed the bottle to Drew, growling with disgust.

"Oh my god!" he exclaimed, outraged. "That's awful!" (You see, I am not the only one who is a nerd about these things.)

"I see that one all of the time," I said, seething.

"Me too," he said. "It's weird. You don't think we're...wrong, do you? You can't use 'insure' in that way. You just can't."

"It's like, I'm going to take out an insurance policy against future discomfort of dry skin," I said with a sarcastic chuckle. "That's ridiculous. We can't be wrong...can we?"

We looked at each other for a long moment, then bolted upstairs to the computer room.

And a few keystrokes later, there it was. Direct from Merriam Webster, definition number two:

Main Entry: in·sure
Function: verb
1 : to provide or obtain insurance on or for
2 : to make certain especially by taking necessary measures and precautions

Dammit. We were...wrong. I hate that.

But I will continue to argue vehemently on behalf of "ensure" over "insure" in such situations. I don't care what MW says. It works better.

(Taking my nerd hat off now.)

Single Digits

2005-12-06T13:36:00.000-05:00

The bank marquee said 9 degrees as I was driving into work this morning. I was just outside to grab lunch, and I don't think it's increased much since. Baby, it's cold outside!

On an unrelated note, I present photographic evidence of the fruits of my weekend labor:

I do get rather excited about Christmas trees. Which is pretty silly, really. I mean, what a weird and utterly useless tradition. Think about it:

You pay $40 to load a ridiculously small tree into your car.

You take the tree home and bring it inside, leaving a trail of pine needles from the car to the designated corner of your living room.

You spend twenty minutes cursing and attempting to communicate with your significant other, who is holding the tree upright while you, in the universally unflattering position of head-under-the-tree, butt-out-in-the-air, attempt to drive a trio of wimpy-looking screws into its trunk so that it stands upright and straight.

You acquire various cuts and scratches attempting to nestle a string of lights that may or may not function into the branches of the tree.

You adorn the tree with armfuls of cheap baubles. As you continue to load more and more crap onto the branches, you become increasingly aware of how much you will dread removing all of this after Christmas.

For the next three weeks, you are this tree's bitch. You constantly pick up needles and haul pitchers of water to the living room, in an attempt to keep the tree clean and alive. Because no matter how you look at it, evergreen trees really were not meant to live in our tidy, climate controlled world.

But, really. I love Christmas trees.

Forever Young

2005-12-05T14:29:00.000-05:00

It’s a bustling afternoon at Costco, and Drew and I are strolling the aisles in a leisurely fashion, plucking tasty tidbits from the trays of the Sample Ladies and generally putting off returning to the harsh cold of the parking lot.

As we exit the Giant Condiment aisle and prepare to make a sharp right turn into the More Deodorant Than You’ll Ever Need department, I spot it. An unsampled sample. I scuttle hastily across the aisle, dodging carts and fellow sample-seekers, and pause in front of Sample Lady’s table just long enough to snatch a cup of chocolate-covered something or other.

“Wait!” Sample Lady cries with alarm, stretching her arm toward my little paper cup as if I’d just grabbed a sample of rat poison.

I give my best raised-eyebrow (which really isn’t very good, I’m afraid) and glance around. Is she addressing me or someone else?

“Um,” she clears her throat and lowers her arm. Yes, it appears she is talking to me. “I was just…I mean, I just wanted to make sure….are you old enough to have a sample?”

Wow. I mean, I get carded at bars and stuff, but this is a new one to me. What is the age of consent for samples at Costco, anyway? Sixteen? Eighteen?

“I’m twenty-five,” I say flatly. Oh crap, now Sample Lady looks all embarrassed at her mistake. I smile a little and try to exude empathy. She looks really mortified.

“I’m so sorry, it’s just that, you look young – and you should really take that as a compliment.” She laughs apologetically and shrugs.

“Thanks,” I reply. I think. Youthful beauty is one thing. Looking like a teenager is another.

As Drew and I walk to the car, I relay the story. Of course, he gets a hearty chuckle. He loves to tease me about my small stature.

“You want me to drive, sweetie?” I ask. He looks excited to read the Buy Your Car Through Costco! brochure he picked up on the way out.

“Sure,” he says, grateful.

“Okay, I just hope I don’t get pulled over for looking too young to drive.”

Hey, it could happen!

Make it Stop!

2005-12-02T17:03:00.000-05:00

Okay, seriously? It has been snowing ALL DAY. I've been watching this little blizzard through my boss's window since I arrived at my desk this morning and it hasn't lightened up at all. And now it's time for me to go home, which means I have to go WALK TO MY CAR in this crap. I am not amused.

Plus, Drew's office is having their holiday party tonight, and any sort of leg-baring garment is pretty much out of the question. Which means I can't wear the skirt I bought just for the occasion. Which means I am scrambing at the last minute for something to wear that doesn't involve bare skin and/or toes. And if you're familiar with my collection of "going out" clothes, you know that this will be quite a challenge.

Argh.

Woe is me.

Bienvenue, Winter!

2005-12-02T14:47:00.000-05:00

Judging by the way it's coming down right now, I have a feeling there's a snow shovel at home with my name on it.

Holiday Craft Time

2005-11-30T17:12:00.000-05:00

We have a little tradition here at the office. Candy. Yes, plentiful amounts of candy must be furnished by the individual who is most egregiously late in submitting his or her timesheet.

This rule, enforced weekly, began sometime in October when stores were stocked with those little Halloween-sized candy bars. For weeks we gorged ourselves on mini Snickers, Twix and Milky Way, often crowding around the Giant Pumpkin Basket in the kitchen area and complaining about how many calories we were eating. (Actually, that’s just the guys – I love chocolate calories!) When the Halloween-candy season passed, we moved on to filling the Giant Pumpkin Basket with regular old grocery store candy.

So this morning our Intern was sent to the store with a twenty dollar bill from last week’s tardiest timekeeper. He returned with a huge sack full of Gummi Worms, Starburst, Twizzlers and Mike & Ikes. I guess it’s a fruity kind of week around here.

But there was a problem: the Giant Pumpkin Basket was gone. In the spirit of not having unsightly and seasonally-inappropriate adornments littering the office, someone had removed it. Upon discovering this, a visibly flustered Intern appeared at my cubicle wall.

“The basket’s gone,” he stated, the bag of candy dangling from his fingertips.

“Yeah, I think we put it away. Because, you know, it was for Halloween and all,” I replied, not looking up from my morning email checking and internet surfing.

“Well, where should I put the candy?” he persisted.

“Maybe there’s another basket. A holiday basket perhaps? Or a box?” I suggested, motioning toward the supply room where such items would lie.

A few minutes later, Intern returned with a rather impressive creation: the Giant Pumpkin Basket, carefully wrapped in sparkly holiday garlands to conceal its Halloween affiliation.

“What do you think?” he asked.

In truth, it was sort of garish. You could clearly see the Giant Pumpkin’s orange felt peeking out around the rim, and the whole thing reminded me a basket being strangled by a sparkly caterpillar. But, major points for creativity. And, really, it wasn’t that bad. I gave my blessing and Intern deposited the basket on the counter and filled it with candy.

In an office as small as ours, it doesn’t take long for things like this to get noticed. Within ten minutes, a small congregation had gathered in the kitchen, rapidly ingesting sugar and commenting on the new basket.

“Who make this?” chuckled one.

“Wow, that is FES-TIVE,” commented another.

I chime in to defend the basket. “Intern did it. We had to cover up the pumpkin. It looks nice.” Intern hears his name mentioned and saunters over. Snarky laughter abounds.

“Dude, that is the gayest thing I’ve ever seen.”

“Yeah. Martha Stewart up in here.”

Intern comes back with a couple scrappy retorts of his own. I don’t feel bad to ratting him out – he can handle himself. A spirited discussion on the merits of Christmas decorations ensues.

And that is how it was decided that we would have Christmas Stockings this year. And how I, as the sole member of the firm without a Y chromosome, would be in charge of making them.

Looks like I’ll be breaking out the scissors and puff paints this weekend.

Weekend Update

2005-11-28T19:07:00.000-05:00

So Los Angeles was fantastic. Not that there was any doubt that it would be, but I have to admit that before I left I felt a tinge of sadness at skipping the traditional family Thanksgiving. I was raised on Thanksgivings that involved warm jackets and lots of cousins, not palm trees and copious amounts of wine. But while I missed my family, it was awesome to see friends. They really are great friends. In many ways, they are kind of like a family. (And they are great hosts/hostesses. If any of them are reading this, thank you very much for a wonderful weekend!)

Anyway, I won't bore with details of the trip, and unfortunately I can't think of any particularly hilarious stories to tell. It was just sort one of those great, relaxing weekends that is fun-filled yet not overly exhausting. Which is surprising, considering how much we actually packed in:

-Dinner at Father's Office, home of the Best Cheeseburger I've Ever Had
-An unforgettable Thanksgiving dinner - many compliments to the chefs!
-Countless hours logged at the pool/hot tub
-More bottles of wine than I care to admit
-An amazing day of rock climbing at New Jack City. (And those who have climbed with me will be proud to know: no whining, no wimping out, and I even led a little bit!)
-A lingering dinner at the infamous Hamasaku. Unfortunately there were no Elizabeth Berkley - or other celebrity - sightings.
-Late night In-N-Out. Of course!
-A cool hike through the dog park at Runyon Canyon, a place that at the same time defies and hilariously caricaturizes the whole L.A. scene
-Some hearty laughs at Groundlings
-Much time just spent hanging out and talking with the people that I love and miss sooooo much

And now it's back to the Cleveland grind.

Coming Soon

2005-11-28T16:26:00.000-05:00

A full holiday weekend recap to follow. Moving slowly today on account of last night's red-eye flight.

But for now, a few random tidbits:

It's official: Americans are not the biggest fat-asses in the world. The Irish are!

Also, Ohioans are a bunch of self-loathing wusses.

And I have a feeling that this is headed our way.

It was, oddly, like 65 degrees this afternoon. But it's supposed to drop down to 25 tonight. Good thing I have a fresh batch of sunny California memories to keep me warm!

Loose Ends

2005-11-22T23:52:00.000-05:00

Always before a trip of any length is the period of time where you scramble to make sure you've taken care of anything that can't go four days without your constant attention. So was my state of mind this evening when it dawned on me that I had to do something with the cat before taking off for L.A. tomorrow. Luckily, I have good, feline-loving friends. Emmy will spend the holiday in her favorite way, surrounded by other playful animals at the home of a friend of mine who has several cats - and a dog - of her own.

The deck, in case you were wondering, was successfully stained. Mostly. Although I wound up staining by flashlight last night, I managed to get all wood surfaces covered in a relatively tidy manner. And also, I managed to splash most of my exposed skin with splotches of deck stain. When I finally went in to clean up and shower, I looked like the perpetrator of a mahogeny murder. Thankfully, deck stain does not stain people as permenantly as it stains decks.

And, in the spirit of last minute-ness, I wait for my laundry to finish so that I can start packing. Nothing like sitting down at 10:30 on the eve of departure and saying to yourself, "So what do I need to have clean for this trip?" Fortunately, I can get by on jeans and tank tops and flip flops in L.A. It's 75 and sunny there. Quite a departure from the 20-and-snow-slash-hail we have here in Ohio.

It's going to be an excellent long weekend. I've missed you, SoCal!

Ghetto Roots

2005-11-21T10:21:00.000-05:00

It's official: Tacoma is GHETTO.

Ah, Tacoma Mall. How many countless hours of my adolescence were passed wandering your dated tile corridors? How much of my hard-earned summer-job money was spent on crap from Hot Topic and Wet Seal? And now, you've been shot up. Sigh.

And people don't believe me when I say I come from the hood.

(ETA: No, it's not really that bad. And I had a relataively normal middle-class childhood. But if you can't mock your hometown, what can you mock?)

Red Red Red

2005-11-21T09:11:00.000-05:00

It's only been three days and I feel more firey already! I don't care if it's from a bottle. Being a quasi-redhead is fun!

(Yes, I know, camera phone self-portraits are lame. And my hair doesn't really look red here. But it is. I swear. I have a better picture on my digital camera that I will post this afternoon.)

Also debuting a new red-in-a-bottle look: Our back deck. Or soon to be debuting. I'll be ditching work this afternoon to apply Behr Redwood Stain. Drew spent most of yesterday scrubbing our poor, abused deck with a bristly brush. I was supposed to start the staining yesterday afternoon, but was incredibly tired and cranky from running a half-marathon yesterday morning. So I spent the afternoon in bed, Drew spent the afternoon scrubbing, and I will spend today staining. Ah, the joys of home ownership.

(Frankly, it is amazing that I am trusted anywhere near our deck with chemicals in hand, given my track record of inappropriately applying abrasive substances. But seriously, I'm hoping to redeem myself this time around. The deck is going to look AWESOME when I finish with it.)

Also around the house: We finally got our DVR up and running. Never again will I fret over missing the first ten minutes of The O.C.! And no more wars over Desperate Housewives v. Family Guy! A fantastic little invention, that DVR box. I don't know how we ever survived without it.

Rain and Snow

2005-11-15T13:24:00.000-05:00

Today, the former. Tomorrow or Thursday, the latter. Or so I hear. Yuck.

This morning was...well, it was one hell of a morning. I managed to, in sequence:
1) Sleep through my morning run
2) Forget my lunch
3) Get stuck in the worst traffic jam I've seen since L.A.
4) Mess up my one and only check/debit card, so that the magnetic stripe no longer works, a fact I discovered while fighting a torrential downpour as a gas station on my way to work
5) Scrape the front of my bumper (thankfully, only lightly) on a fence in my parking lot downtown while trying to fit into the very last open parking space, which was, generously, two inches wider than my truck, and also while enduring the mocking laugh of the parking lot attendant, who was evidently quite amused by my manuvering
6) Forget my umbrella, and thus get soaked on the walk to the office
7) Slip on the wet tile in the office foyer, thankfully catching myself just short of a full splay onto the floor
8) Arrive at work approximately an hour and a half late

Following that, it's been a pretty normal boring day at the office. Which, in this case, is a huge improvement.

Friday Night Excitement

2005-11-11T23:21:00.000-05:00

So, I hung out at Wal-Mart tonight. Quite the happening place on a Friday evening in Ohio, I've gotta say.

Okay, so I didn't really "hang out," but I did have to stop by for some work supplies and...damn, there are alot of people at Wal-Mart on Friday night. People who don't appear to be buying anything, either. Like how, when I was an adolescent, my friends and I used to loiter uselessly in the aisles of the Tacoma Mall. Except it's Wal-Mart. Impressive.

My plan tomorrow is an unfortunate one: Working all day, starting at...groan...7:30. I was supposed to accompany Drew to Chicago for the weekend. But, alas, no. I guess I can't complain too much. My hours are generally pretty good, and I rarely have to work a weekend - at least, I rarely have to do work over the weekend that requires something other than reading a deposition or tinkering on my laptop at my leisure. So I won't bitch too much about having to get up at the crack of dawn on a Saturday. A little bit, but not too much.

Upkeep

2005-11-08T16:13:00.000-05:00

Yikes. Has it really been almost a week since I posted last? I need to do a better job of keeping up with this!

Although y'all haven't missed much lately. Some pretty strong nightlife this weekend meant that my days were pretty uneventful: sleeping in late, lazing on the couch, eating fried chicken, no running whatsoever. I feel a little bit guilty. A little bit. But sometimes you have to take time to just be young and crazy and enjoy it, right? Even if that means missing your beloved trail run and winding up with an unexplainable bruise on your thigh.

Also: our house is getting disgusting. I haven't cleaned in a couple of weeks. Yesterday I gave up on getting a glass of water because we are out of clean cups, preferring to avoid the kitchen-sink region altogether. And laundry? Judging from the mountain of dirty clothing on the laundry room floor, it is not surprising that I'm on my last clean pair of underwear. Something must be done.

When I brought this up to Drew, he suggested we get a maid. A maid! For the two of us and Emily! How ridiculous. We should be able to take care of ourselves. Imagine the mess that will result when we one day breed! Ha ha!

Soooooo...do you want to call around to get price quotes, or should I?

Ah, just kidding. Once I get going on the mess, it won't seem so bad. I'm going to stock up on Swiffer products at Wal Mart tonight. I love Swiffer. Yes, I know. They're making a fortune on the concept of using maxi pads as cleaning products. But, hey - if it makes my life easier, I'm willing to pay $4.95 for a box of cleverly marketed feminine hygiene materials.

Till tomorrow....

Good Jeans

2005-11-02T21:42:00.000-05:00

The cloud:

*Spending two days in a filthy abandoned office in Akron, reviewing piles of unorganized documents and records that are so encumbered by dust and grime that I actually need a shower after working there.

*Fighting off a formidable team of fruit flies in said office.

*The smell of said office - a cross between Cheap Motel and Rotting Piss that has entrenched itself firmly in my clothing and hair. Ew.

*Akron pretty much sucks.

The silver lining:

*Casual Wednesday and Thursday, baby! It's really incredible, the degree to which trading slacks and a twinset for jeans and a hooded sweatshirt lightens my mood.

To bed now, so I can get up early tomorrow morning and work out before returning to document review hell. 'Night!

Onslaught

2005-11-01T10:15:00.000-05:00

Halloween is an interesting time in my Cleveland Heights neighborhood. Along with the regular flow of neighborhood trick-or-treaters, the city brings busloads of children in from East Cleveland - a neighborhood where, presumably, Halloween is not so sugar coated. Starting at 6:00 PM, large vans and rented buses start lining the streets and a collection of children and young adults tumbles out to roam the streets in search of candy and merriment.

Maybe half of them are costumed. Many look as though they've seen more in their short lives than I ever will. A number of children were accompanied by adolescent parents. But nearly all of them are polite and well-behaved. I was rather impressed.

But the sheer volume caught me by surprise. Last weekend I bought a large bag of Costco candy - 120 pieces - and considered myself well-stocked. Not a chance. Within 45 minutes the candy was gone and I resorted to handing out spare change. I'm sure, financially, I would have been better off going to the store and buying more candy, but I was too lazy. And, besides - those kids were delighted to get two dimes and a nickel instead of candy. I'm sure it means alot more to them then it does to me.

A few other observations:

*Most disturbing costume seen: A girl of maybe ten or eleven who was "pregnant." She had obviously stuffed something under her jacket to create a bulge. Costume...or disturbing glimpse into the near future? You decide.

*Repeat customers: More than once, I noticed the same kid coming back for more. I mean, come on. You can't do that. One little guy even came back three times. And what am I supposed to do....refuse service? Argh.

*Signage: Our doorbell is tempremental. Therefore, I stuck a small sign at kid-eye level on our glass door with big bold letters: PLEASE KNOCK. Now, in truth, the knocking is not entirely necessary. I could totally hear the stomping of approaching trick-or-treaters as they come up the steps, and was usually rounding the corner to the door by the time they knocked. But at least half a dozen times, I rounded that corner to see a kid approach, look at the sign, then turn and walk away. Could it really be....that they can't read? I mean, I know schools are bad, especially in the poorer neighborhoods, but....wow. The possibility floored me.

*Bottom line: I would guess that we had close to 300 trick-or-treaters. That is alot of trick-or-treaters. Next year, multiple bags of Costco candy.

Anyway. So that was my Halloween. After the trick-or-treating frenzy subsided, Drew came home from work and we enjoyed a nice dinner and watched Million Dollar Baby (which Netflix sent like a month ago and we hadn't gotten around to watching). Can't tell you much about the movie, though, as I fell asleep after about twenty minutes.

Yeah, I know, it won Best Picture and all, but I was exhausted. Passing out candy and money is hard work.

Decision Time

2005-10-29T13:17:00.000-04:00

So. Drew and I have plans for tonight. Yes, we are attending an actual party with actual people that one might even call friends. Excitement abounds.

But here's the catch: we need costumes. And, as if the designation of Halloween isn't restrictive enough, costume-wise, this is a themed event. TV Characters. Damn.

It's gotta be something easy. I don't have time to manufacture anything terribly creative out of cardboard and tempera paint, and I definitely don't want to spend a ton of money puchasing something elaborate. I'm thinking something along the lines of Tom (Drew) and Jerry (me), or Croc Hunter Steve Irwin (Drew) and attendant crocodile (me).

If anyone out there has any last minute advice, I'd be all too grateful.

Smells, Seasons and a Suspicious Call

2005-10-27T16:15:00.000-04:00

Busy weekend + Really busy week at work = Not much time for posting. I've barely even had time to surf the internet at work! It's an outrage, really.

Anyway, some random happenings around here:

Last week, while parousing Tower City during lunch, I succumbed to retail pressure and purchased a $16 pot of lotion from the Body Shop. Its aroma is ostensibly Vanilla Spice. Warm, cozy, holiday-like...I actually thought it smelled pretty nice. However, since adding this lotion to my daily morning routine, I have been asked "What smells like carrot cake over here?" (by a coworker), "Did you just eat a cookie or something?" (by another coworker) and "Why are you so sticky?" (by Drew). Bah. It's Jergens from Walmart from now on.

It is starting to get rather cold here. Like, 30s and 40s cold. Sadly, the summer clothes - including my vast collection of cute sandals and flip flops - are being packed up into a rubbermaid storage box until next spring. Growl. I hate wearing socks. On the plus side, though, I looooove wearing my fabulous red peacoat. It's a small concession, but I'll take what I can get.

Got a rather interesting phone call during my lunch break today. As I was munching away on my Subway sandwich and watching MTV, our receptionist came over and informed me that "Bryan So-and-so from ABC Locksmith is on the phone for you." And, acutally, this did not seem strange, because I have been calling many locksmiths over the last two days (I am on a rather weird project at the moment - I'll leave it at that). So I go and get the call, thinking it's someone with whom I've corresponded recently and probably need to talk to. The resulting conversation went something like this:

Me: "This is Shelby."
Him: "Hi, this is Bryan So-and-so. You don't know me, but I saw your profile in the Plain Dealer and I know you just recently moved from L.A." (Our local paper runs weekly profiles of people who have moved to the area.)
Me: "Um, yes, that's right."
Him: "So, how do you like Cleveland?"
Me: "Uhh, it's okay."
Him: "Really? Seriously?"
Me: "Yeah, um, its not bad...is there something I can help - "
Him: "Because I'm a retired LAPD officer. I moved here several years ago."
Me: "Oh. Yeah, well, Ohio is pretty different from California."
Him: (Loud snort/guffaw) "You're telling me!"
Me: (perplexed silence)
Him: "I still have a house in Orange County."
Me: "That's....great."
Him: "Cleveland has alot of problems, you know. Alot of problems."
Me: "Well, no place is perfect, I guess."
Him: "So you like it here? You don't want to move back?"
Me: "Um...I think I'm staying here for a while."
Him: "Well, I just wanted to say hello and see how you liked Cleveland."
Me: "Yeah, okay...thanks, uh, for calling..."
Him: "Okay. Bye."

Click.

So....incredibly....confused. What was that? I can think of only three possibilities:

(A) Bored - but otherwise friendly and relatively normal - retired man who just wanted to chat.
(B) Guy who was going to try to sell me something or recruit me for some sort of club but lost his nerve when I was less than enthusiastic about his random questions.
(C) Crazy stalker who saw my picture in the paper and wants me to move back to his O.C. house with him...in which case he could very well be reading this right now...in which case: HA, BRYAN! I'm onto your little game.

I'm thinking probably (A). But that won't stop my coworkers - who are firmly in the (C) camp - from teasing me mercilessly about this one for quite some time.

Oh well. Keeps things interesting, I suppose.

Free Falling

2005-10-20T10:38:00.000-04:00

Did you know that cats can actually slow themselves down while falling? Tricky cats!

Last night's conversation, over dinner and drinks with some friends at a local bar, was terminal velocity. Yes, I know we are all a bunch of dorks. Yes, I am aware that normal people discuss movies or music or football or television when they drink beer, not physics. But oh well. It was actually kind of interesting. I especially enjoyed watching the more mathmatically-inclined individuals in the group - Drew included - try to do the math in their beer-fuzzy heads, counting on their fingers and tracing equations on the tabletop. Apparently nobody thought to get out a cell phone and use the calculation function. Trying to do complicated math in your head is so much more gratifying. And entertaining.

In other news, it is getting really cold here. I ran this morning in a thick long-sleeved top and long pants and still shivered for most of the workout. I also managed to, in the stifiling darkness, nearly throw myself into a ravine multiple times. Daylight Savings Time, come hither!

I guess I also should decide whether I am dressing up for Halloween, and if I am, what I shall be. The outlook for that weekend, party-wise, is rather dismal at the moment. A bunch of Drew's guy friends are planning a weekend trip to someone's family's cabin in PA, which is dumb if you ask me...Halloween is supposedly one of the few genuinely fun weekends in this city. Anyway. Drew may or may not go with them, but in any case, that group makes up a substantial base of our friends here, so we'll be short of the critical mass needed for a big party night.

So maybe I'll put on my costume and have a party of my own that includes me, the cat, the two pumpkins I bought to decorate our front porch, and a big bowl of ice cream.

Yes, that's right: I'm dressing up as a Loser. :)

Call of the Golden Arches

2005-10-19T13:25:00.000-04:00

There are those days when you simply must have McDonalds for lunch. Today was one of those days. The healthy sandwich and fruit combination that I packed this morning will just have to wait until tomorrow.

And now, with my stomach sufficiently coated in salt and grease, I will spend the rest of the afternoon fighting the dreaded Food Coma. A losing battle, for sure.

Amusement for the day: GFY has concocted yet another Britney letter. Yay! I love these.

Also, I've become addicted to this Wheel-of-Fortune-slash-Hangman distraction on Yahoo! Games. (No, I really haven't been busy at work the last couple of days.)

Very much looking forward to tonight's run. We're supposed to get up to almost 70 degrees this afternoon. It's only going downhill from here. Better enjoy it while it lasts.

And that's pretty much it for this ho-hum Wednesday afternoon. I'll post something more thoughtful if the mood strikes me.

Black Thumb

2005-10-16T19:44:00.000-04:00

This weekend was all about taking care of our slightly-neglected abode. It had been...how many weeks since someone mowed the lawn? Too many. Some little purple flowers started to sprout in the backyard, and in the front, a gigantic mushroom was slowly taking over the territory around the big tree. Not good.

So yesterday, after a quick morning workout (I did yet another 5K, Drew jogged around and spectated and lent moral support) and Starbucks breakfast, we unearthed gardening gloves and hauled out hoe, shovel, and mower and went to work. All in all, it was a very productive day. The lawn looks decent, all fungi have been vanquished, and Drew yanked almost two lawn bags of crap out of the flower beds.

However, I hope the lawn survives my inept attempt to apply fertilizer. You would think that, if a little bit of fertilizer is good, then a little more is even better, right? So when - after diligently following the instructions on the package and cutting 5-foot swaths across the lawn - I had fertilizer left over, I did what any rational person would do: I reapplied.

"You did WHAT?" exclaimed Drew, when I proudly annouced that I'd had enough for the whole yard, "plus double in most places!"

You know, they should really put a warning or something on the package in BIG BOLD CAPITAL LETTERS, if applying more product than the instructions indicate will, like, completely destroy your lawn.

"It'll probably be fine," I assured Drew, knowing full well that I had no idea whether it would be fine.

"This is just like the deck," he half-grumbled, referring to the time I sort of bleached the deck in an attempt to clean it. Oh, that's a low blow.

"It is so not like the deck," I retorted. "And besides, we both know that was not my fault. The package said 'Deck Wash,' not 'Deck Bleach.' And the directions on the bottle didn't say anything about a pressure washer." I cast a glance up at the deck in question, with its splotches of bleached wood, its streaks of faded grain where I had naively poured the so-called Deck Wash. Growl.

So I guess we'll see about the lawn. So far, so good. But I have no idea how long it takes for over-fertilization to ruin your lawn. They should put that on the package, too.

Girls' Night In

2005-10-11T20:15:00.000-04:00

Drew is in Nashville for a work. And I have big plans for the night: Emmy and I are going to make a frozen pizza and watch Sex and the City - two things that rarely transpire in the presence of our male companion.

And yes, Emmy is the cat. I know, I know. It's a really good thing I'm not single, because I would totally be that freaky girl with the cat.

Dude, I was SO on TV

2005-10-08T18:17:00.000-04:00

One of my friends taped the "live coverage" of our race this morning. Who would want to watch a bunch of people run on TV at 8:00 AM, you ask? Probably not many people. But, hey...I was on TV!
That's me, the very short-looking person in the center of the frame, in the blue shorts. My friend (in the grey, to my left) and I are flanking this dude in the blue sweatshirt. I'm pretty sure we beat him. (And she beat me, by a few seconds, even though she had a baby like five months ago. A curse on people with natural running talent!)
It's fun being a big fish in a small pond sometimes. :)

Negative Reinforcement

2005-10-08T12:45:00.000-04:00

My alarm went off at 6:15 this morning, but I was already awake. The clatter of rain on the skylight in the bathroom had been distrubing my pre-dawn slumber for at least half an hour. Tentatively, I extracted an arm from under a pile of warm blankets and purring kitty and reached out to turn on the bedside lamp. The coolness of the air shocked my skin and sent a chill through my whole body.

No way am I getting up to run a 5k this morning, I thought, returning my arm to the warmth of the bed and snuggling against the covers a little tighter. It was truly a nasty morning: windy, rainy, dark and cold. Exactly the kind of weather that makes you want to stay in bed all day. The thought of leaving my comfy pajamas and toasty cocoon and to run around downtown Cleveland half naked seemed absurd. I rolled over and smiled at the thought of sleeping in.

But...argh.

I had already registered for the stupid race. I thought of my bib number and safety pins, sitting on the kitchen counter by the door, and how dumb and lazy I would feel when I saw them, unused, later in the morning.

I thought, also, of the running clothes I had carefully laid out last night. I would wake up and discover them and it would be another reminder that I wussed out.

And then there was the group from my running club, who would wait for me at our designated carpool spot, checking their watches while they idled for five or ten minutes, and then shurg and say, "I guess she's not coming." And tomorrow morning at our trail run they would all talk about the race and I would just stand there feeling totally lame.

Growl. I rolled out of bed, into my running clothes, and out to the car. And, of course, I'm glad I went. It was a decent race, even with the terrible weather, and I even managed to place respectably in spite of my bad attitude.

One of these days, I swear to god, I will sleep in. Until like noon. With no guilt. And it will be fantastic. It's been quite a while since I spent a weekend morning lazing around, with all of this running stuff that's been going on. Sometimes I wonder how I manage to make myself do it - to forego the joy of sleeping in and go out and punish myself instead. I think part of it is guilt, but a larger part is not wanting to miss out on opportunities. I've been training hard all summer; I should take advantage of that.

But for now I will reward myself with an afternoon catnap - with the cat, of course. (She's such a bad influence.)

Who's the big winner?

2005-10-06T10:22:00.000-04:00

Cleveland is the big winner!

Or so this survey seems to think. To tell you the truth, I was highly skeptical of the veracity of the claim upon reading the Plain Dealer headline: "Cleveland touted as 'Most Livable' U.S. City." Oh, like hell, I thought. A bunch of silly qualifications ran through my head; that headline is probably ridiculously misleading. Most livable....if your main criteria are an abundance of gray weather and easy access to fried chicken. Touted....by people who were asked to choose between Cleveland and Frigid, ND or Toothless, WV. There was no way this could be for real.

But several other articles independently verify the PD's claim. Most livable in the U.S., tied with Pittsburgh. And I'm told this is supposed to make me extremely upset because we hate Pittsburgh here. Anyway. Way to go Cleveland. And, people: don't let the poverty and the snow and the fat midwesterners and the crappy sports teams who always lose when it comes down to the wire keep you away. Because in spite of all these things, we are more livable than you! Pfffft!

L.A. Stories

2005-10-05T14:49:00.000-04:00

A couple of days tardy, but are highlights of our fabulous So Cal weekend:

People. Saw a ton of friends, some of whom I haven't seen (or even talked to) in a year. It was great. I need to become better at keeping in touch.

Matrimony. The wedding on Saturday night was unbelievable. Posh hotel in Beverly Hills, credenzas adorned with orchids, pommegranite martinis, and a sushi bar - like, a real sushi bar with a sushi chef, not just a tray of california rolls. And that was just the cocktail reception. By the time we got to the actual sit-down dinner, I was so overwhelmed by fancy food and drink that I barely remember what was served. I'm sure a small forture was spent on this particular event. Incredible.

Brush With Fame. Spotted Phil Jackson at Saks in Beverly Hills in - get ready for this - the bridal salon. We had spent the afternoon assisting Soames in her search for a wedding dress, and popped by Saks on the way home to grope at the gorgeous $10,000 gowns with our grubby David's Bridal paws. And there was good old Phil. Why the bridal salon? We don't know. Someone speculated that perhaps he was shopping for himself and using the salon for its huge dressing rooms and relative privacy. This would seem to make sense. God, is he tall in person.

Also: Drew claims to have seen Wee Man exiting a Hancock Park grocery store with his mother. The excitement just never ends.

Good Eats. Although I was sorely disappointed that the trip did not include an In-n-Out Burger, we managed to fill ourselves with plenty of only-in-L.A. fare, including a stop at the trendy Urth Caffe and, of course, dinner at Musha, which did double duty as our obligatory sushi feed after we discovered that most top-notch sushi restaurants are, inexplicably, closed on Sundays.

So we were pretty much overindulged in every way when we boarded the plane back to Cleveland on Sunday night. In retrospect, I can see how I spent so much money - and got so roly-poly - when I was living in L.A.

Travelin' Blues

2005-10-03T10:53:00.000-04:00

I was going to write an extensive post about the 101 reasons why red-eye flights suck, but I am just too damn tired. That's what trying to operate on three hours of fitful sleep while crunched up against the window of a plane will do to you. Ugh.

Off to nap surreptitiously in my cubicle...more later.

Adventures in Retail

2005-09-30T09:18:00.000-04:00

Don't get me wrong: I love shopping. Of the many ways in which I lack the girl gene, that is not one of them. Nothing makes me happier than coming home, exhausted and broke, with an abundance of brightly colored bags containing items that I don't exactly need. (How many pairs of cute stappy heels do I have now?)

But, unlike many members of the female species, I do not particularly enjoy the actual act of shopping. Having new goodies? Love it. The process of procuring them? Meh. The crowds, the foraging for the proper size, the trying on, the line at the cashier (which always seems to be backed up behind some numbskull returning something they bought two years ago, or someone taking their sweet time filling out one of the store credit card applications, or some cheap bastard trying to convince the clerk that they've found a microscopic spot on their clearance-rack t-shirt and are therefore entitled to an extra 10% off). Truthfully, I find the whole experience rather trying.

And the salespeople. Oh, the salespeople. Now, my retail experience is limited - a couple summers in my second cousin's camera store, selling ski clothes in small sporting goods shop owned by some family friends - so perhaps I am in no position to pass judgement, but...where the hell do they find these people? How has the retail industry managed to assemble this veritable army of perky twenty-year-olds, with their jingly keys and their two-way headsets? (Two things, incidentally, that I really don't understand. How does your average mall retail store have so many keys associated with it - keys that must, apparently, remain with the salesgirl at all times, preferably on one of those stretchy rubber keychains around her bony upper arm? And why do they need the headsets? You're operating a friggin' Gap, not a traffic control tower.)

Case in point. Yesterday at lunch I hit up Victoria's Secret, in need of a strapless bra. The dress I'm wearing to the wedding on Saturday is strapless and light-colored, and I didn't have anything to wear with it that wouldn't potentially show through. So I walked in, headed to the appropriate rack, found my size, and turned to make my way to the cash register.

And that's when it began.

"HI! Did you need some help finding something today?" The salesgirl couldn't have been more than eighteen or nineteen, with chicklet-white teeth, french manicured nails, and perfectly straightened hair. She grinned at me eagerly while casting her saucer-wide eyes on the basic strapless bra in my hand.

"Um, no, I think I'm ok. I'm just getting this..." I motioned toward the checkout.

"Oh, well, did you like the way that one fit? Because did you see these others?" Somehow, within seconds, she had a handful of alternative bras, all in my size, and was motioning suggestively toward the fitting room.

I considered this, looking from the plain, inexpensive model I had selected to the pile of lace and frills and padding in the salesgirl's arms. I hadn't actually tried the thing on. I guess it couldn't hurt to try a few alternatives, too. "Okay, I'll try them -"

"FAN-TASTIC!" She grinned broadly, seeming to radiate genuine ecstasy over the fact that I was about to try on some undergarments. I shrugged inwardly and followed perky gait to the dressing room, which she unlocked with one of the thirty-six keys on her keychain.

And then I went in the dressing room. And then she went in the dressing room. She arranged her selection neatly on the rack and looked at me expectantly.

"Do you want me to measure you?"

"Um, no thanks."

"Are you sure, because - " she pulled a pink tape measure from her pocket and took a step toward me.

"Absolutely not! Put that thing back in your pocket and step slowly toward the door. What is wrong with you people? If not for you and your intolerable eagerness to interact with me, I would be out of this pink-wrapped prison and strolling happily back to work. Why can't I just buy something without eight levels of harassment! Do you understand that? I am trying to purchase goods from your store - I want to give you my money. What I don't want is to be trapped in a small room with a psycho fem-bot who looks like she's about to assault me with a tape measure. Leave me alone!"

Of course, I didn't say that. Instead, I muttered something about being kind of in a hurry, and surprisingly, she left. "Just let me know if you need anything," she called as I shut the door.

A minute later, a knock at the door, a familiar voice. “How is everything?”

“Fine,” I reply a little coldly.

“Have you tried Ipex?” she asked. Had I not seen the recent barrage of commercials touting VS’s latest line, I might have thought she was offering me drugs. When I failed to reply, she continued: “I brought one over in your size. I think you’ll really like it, it’s….”

I tuned out the details, and when she finished her pitch, I replied calmly yet firmly, “No thank you.” I could totally picture her, hesitating on the other side of the door, not sure what to do next. Finally, she repeated her entreaty to let her know if I needed anything, and then she was gone.

After emerging from the dressing room with the garment I had originally selected (which fit just fine, thank you), I once again turned to make my way to the cash register. Upon arrival I waited patiently behind – of course – a woman who was applying for a VS credit card and had some problem with the processing of her application. Groan. But, hey - at least no one was barraging me with bras or attacking me with a tape measure.

As a line began to form behind me, the cashier-girl pressed her mouth to the microphone of her headset and quietly requested assistance at the register. And who should show up but my very nemesis, her bleached-white grin shining brighter then ever.

I braced for yet another round of sales pitches, or at least a contemptuous analysis of why I picked the most boring and basic garment in the store instead of the lacy concoctions she had suggested. She smiled sweetly as I stepped toward the register.

“Did you find everything okay today?” she asked, removing my purchase from the hanger. She cocked her head slightly as she looked at me, her eyes betraying no trace of recognition.

And that’s when it hit me. This girl hadn’t meant me any harm; she wasn’t trying to coerce me, to belittle me, to break me down to the point where I lay helpless on the dressing room floor, crying “Ipex! I must have Ipex!” She was simply very, very stupid.

I smiled a little, in spite of myself. “Yes, I did.”

And with that, I was out the door and on my way back to the office – back to making those billable hours so that I can take my paycheck back to the mall and experience the joys of shopping all over again.

Clackety-Clack

2005-09-28T09:56:00.000-04:00

Annoyance du jour: there is a rock stuck in my shoe.

Not just stuck in my shoe, like in with my trouser-socked foot, but actually in my shoe. Inside the chunky heel of my bland, office-appropriate pumps. You see, my daily trek from car to office takes me past a slightly elevated gravel parking lot. When it rains, the gravel washes out onto the sidewilk in large quantities, forcing me to crunch over lots of little rocks. This pretty much destroys footwear, as pieces of gravel tear up the rubberized heels and embed themselves in the tread. And now, a particularly ambitious rock has pierced the bottom of my heel completely, squeezed through the hole, and is now rattling around in there each time I take a step. I sound like I'm rolling dice as I walk around the office.

This is why, as of right now, I am officially refusing to buy expensive shoes for work. Payless Shoe Source, here I come.

Bleh

2005-09-26T10:04:00.000-04:00

Nothing says Monday morning like thick gray skies and driving rain. Yuck. It's one of those mornings when I stay in bed as long as I possibly can, making little pacts with myself each time I press the snooze button: "Well, if I skip drying my hair and opt for a damp ponytail, I can sleep a few more minutes." Click. "Okay, if I toss my pants in the dryer instead of ironing them, I can stay in bed a little longer." Click. "Hmm, I think I can squeeze out one more snooze if I promise to shower, like, really fast." Click, click, click. Next thing I know it's nearly 8:00 and I should be on my way out the door. Oops.

Needless to say, I blew off my morning run. Getting up to run in the morning is difficult enough without contending with a nasty downpour. It just wasn't going to happen. But that's okay. I had a pretty good weekend, running-wise, so a day off is not going to kill me.

This week will be busy, between work and running and all of the little errands that need to be done in preparation for our trip to L.A. this weekend. Tonight I will brave the mall, in an attempt to find shoes that are sufficiently fancy to spruce up the not-quite-formal-enough dress that I'm wearing to the "Black Tie Preferred" wedding we're going to on Saturday night - shoes that are preferably on sale and also not terribly uncomfortable. Hopefully, I will not do what I often do in situations like this: panic under the pressure of finding the perfect shoe/purse/earrings/other accessory and end up buying a whole new outfit. My checking account cannot handle that at the moment.

Anyway. I should get to work. A rather lengthy to-do list awaits, most of it left over from the end of last week, when I assured myself that Project X was simply too daunting to start on a Friday, and would be much better saved for Monday, when I'd be fresh and clear-headed and ready for a challenge. Yeah, right.

(P.S. Best of luck to Matt and his unit, who leave today for Iraq. Be safe over there, and we can't wait to see you when you get back!)

Prime Time Battle

2005-09-25T19:07:00.000-04:00

I really don't watch that much TV. In fact, there were a few times this summer when the tube remained untouched for weeks at a stretch, evening instead spent frolicking outside or savoring a 10 PM sunset on the porch with a pleasantly chilled glass of chardonnay.

But there are seasons. And just as summer turns to autumn, there are suddenly a handful of TV shows that I feel compelled to make room for in my weekly routine. Just a few. So few, in fact, that I have never experienced the dilemma of needing to see competing shows on opposing networks. (One of my co-workers owns multiple VCRs for this very reason. I asked him why he hadn't crossed over into the DVR camp, and he said it was because it couldn't tape simultaneous programming to his satisfaction. That is someone who likes TV alot.)

Anyway, so Sunday nights present a new conumdrum for Drew and I: Desperate Housewives versus the Family Guy. I know what you're thinking - what's the issue? FG wins hands down. But. Here's the thing. I kinda got into DH last year, back before Fox ressurected FG and planted in the 9:00 Sunday time slot. And I must ask myself: How many times have I seen each and every episode of FG? Are we into double digits there? It seems highly likely that any new FG episode Fox puts out will be viewed several times over in the future, as I am certain that all new episodes will be purchased on DVD when it comes out. Thus, the value of watching on the original air date is substantially diminished.

So that's where we are. I am pulling for DH and Drew thinks it's insane to miss a new FG. I'll argue my case more thoroughly over dinner. But if I lose, you know...no biggie. I am committed to not ever caring about TV that much.

Unless it's The O.C. Hell or high water, I watch The O.C.

Welcome Fall

2005-09-22T11:43:00.000-04:00

According to my cube-neighbor, autumn commences at precisely 6:24 PM today, sharp. Or something close to that. I'm not sure how he knows that, but hey, if it gives me an extra ten hours of summer, I'm all for it.

But regardless of whether it's official, fall is definitely in the air. The surprising crunch of leaves under my running shoes this morning as I shuffled along in the dark this morning...the predawn chill seeping through the thin summer blanket on the bed...the increasing girth of the neighborhood fauna, as squirrels and racoons start packing it on for the winter. I can feel it, hear it, smell it, taste it. Not bad for someone who has never lived in a place that had a true autumn. It's kind of neat.

And now, if you'll excuse me, I'm off to eat lunch in the noontime sunshine and enjoy the precious last hours of summer.

Let's try this again

2005-09-20T11:03:00.000-04:00

So I didn't do very well with the whole "starting the workweek" thing yesterday. Around 10:00 yesterday - while engrossed in my typical Monday morning routine of surfing entertainment news for ugly and/or embarrasing things that happened to celebrities over the weekend - I heard it coming, whistling softly in the back of my head like a far-off freight train. A massive migrane. Next stop, my brain cavity.

Attempting to dodge the bullet, I popped a couple of the prescription painkillers my doctor doled out the last time I had a migraine. There we go. If I can just stay under the radar and doze quietly at my desk for the next hour, all of this will go away and I won't have to burn PTO hours that I don't exactly have in abundance at the moment.

But it was no use. By 11:30, I threw in the towel and headed home in a haze of dizziness and nausea. In the door, up the stairs, out of the work clothes, and into bed with a purring kitty tucked under my arm. Sleep should make it all go away. And so I tried my hardest to drift off...

...and tried...

...and tried...

...and - ARGH. No use. Downstairs to the couch I went, dragging off the covers with an angry sigh and leaving a startled Emily alone on the bare bed.

And that is how I ended up watching approximately seven hours of television yesterday. I've now seen one particular episode of My Super Sweet Sixteen three times. And I discovered that yes, there really is such a thing as too much TBS, the Superstation. (The fourth-in-a-row episode of Friends really is not "Very Funny." Get a better tagline, TBS.)

Thankfully, things are off to a better start today. I've finally caught up on my pop culture weekend gossip, and at 11:30 Tuesday, I am ready to get to work.

Only three-and-a-half days until the weekend...

Melancholy

2005-09-17T12:05:00.000-04:00

It's a mildly depressing thing to come home from work on a Friday night feeling mildly depressed. Maybe it's the gray, rainy weather, so reminicent of the PNW that I could swear I was in Tacoma in June. Maybe it's the fact that all afternoon, when co-workers posed the usual polite query, "So what are you up to this weekend?" my answer was an indifferent "Uh, nothing." Maybe it's that Drew is out of town. I don't know. All I know is that I spent last night eating a peanut butter and jelly sandwich and watching "Good Will Hunting" on A&E. Not exactly the ideal kick-off to an exciting weekend.

But, as much as I poke fun at Ohio, I really don't hate it here in Cleveland. In fact, I'd even say I like it here. My life - although not as exciting as it was in Los Angeles - is pretty good. Do I like snowstorms in April? Not really. Would I prefer rugged, craggy mountains to gentle Midwestern rolling hills? Of course. But all in all, those things don't really matter that much.

What I do miss sorely is having a group of good friends close at hand. On preparing to move out here, I definitely underestimated the task of making friends. I mean, making friends has never been that difficult, right? From kindergarten to college we are surrounded by classmates, teammates, roommates, etc. Don't hit it off with any of those people? Join a club, go to the campus bar or coffeehouse, whatever - it's virtually guarenteed that you will be surrounded by other people your age, and chances are good that at least some of them will be decent friend material.

This is not the case when you're 25. The mid-twenties are an akward age, I think. The college kids, with their trendy ripped jeans and peasant skirts and popped collars and cheap beer, seem painfully young. I find that I have a hard time relating to someone for whom Nirvana and Pearl Jam are "classic rock." Or someone who thinks that Kamikaze shots are way cool, because the novelty hasn't worn off yet. Or someone who doesn't remember what it was like to not have the Internet. Even though the gap is only a few years, it feels like an eternity at times.

On the other side are the late twentysomethings and early thirtysomethings: largely married, sometimes with kids. These people are far more difficult to entice into socializing. And I have found that when socializing happens, it is often in the form of couples' dates - which is fine, as Drew and I tend to get along pretty well with other couples, I think, but when four people must find compatibility and common ground, the odds of making a good match are that much slimmer.

All of this is not to say that I don't have any friends here; I do. But it's a rather fragmented affair...work friends, running friends, Drew's work friends and their friends, etc. It's just not the same as the L.A. crew. And I don't know if it ever will be.

Hungry Blogger

2005-09-14T17:14:00.000-04:00

It ate my post. And now I'm too busy at work to write it all again. Growl.

Anyway, I realize I've been slacking on the posting. I promise I'll make it up tomorrow...

Remains of the Sunday

2005-09-11T17:36:00.000-04:00

It's a perfect, 80-degree, blue-sky Sunday afternoon, and how have I whiled it away? By dozing in my bedroom. Shame on me.

Ran a half-marathon this morning. Attained a couple of nasty new lines on my body, which will make lovely scars - one from my Ipod, one from my sports bra. (Is there anything that does not chafe mercilessly during long distance runs?) Produced a blister the size of a quarter on my right arch. Remembered why I like racing 5Ks and 10Ks as opposed to longer distances. But still finished with a respectable time, and it was a very well organized race. I imagine I'll be back next year.

So at least I have an excuse for being tired and lazy. And anyway, most of the city spent the afternoon on the couch watching the Browns get beaten by the Bengals, all fanaticially decked out in their orange gear, desperately hopeful smiles plastered upon their intoxicated faces. This city loves their football team, no matter how much that particular team happens to suck. Oh well. At least the Indians still have shot at something.

And that is the extent of my ability to comment on sports. Off to make the best of the remainder of this gorgeous afternoon.

What to do with a free Thursday evening

2005-09-08T19:27:00.000-04:00

All of the partners and senior managers vanished promptly at 4:30 today. I believe they went to an Indians game with some clients. All I know is that this left us, the lackeys, without adult supervision for the afternoon - the office equivalent of your parents going out of town for the weekend.

PAR-TY!

Or, um, just go home early. Which is what we did. But this presented me with a dilemma. I had anticipated working late tonight; for some reason, this usually happens on Thursdays. I even got up this morning and worked out. I did all of my nagging little errands at lunch. This unexpected early departure has left me with absolutely nothing to do.

So here are some of my better ideas on how to pass an evening such as this:

Volunteer for airport pickup duty. One of Drew's friends was flying in from Japan today. Normally I avoid airport pickup duty like the plauge: the lack of communication when your charge is unable to use a cell phone, the endless circling, the bored cops who scowl at you for lingering longer than three seconds in any single location...UGH. But today I happily obliged. Hell, what else did I have to do?
Finally fold the wrinkled basket of laundry that has been sitting since it came out of the dryer in a frantic fit on Monday morning, when you were looking for your damn sock and just did not give a crap if everything else got wrinkled.
Conduct research for your forthcoming book, "What Not To Do When Making Chocolate-Covered Strawberries: A Primer in Double Boilers"
Get, like, really excited about the season premiere of The O.C. Which you like totally would not have cared about if you had been stuck at work tonight, but since you're home anyway, y'know...and, like, stuff.
Write in your blog, a pleasure which you normally strictly reserve as procrastination fodder for working hours.

Depending on whether we get another hilarious Kirsten Cohen Drunk Scene tonight, it could end up being a really good evening. I'm keeping my fingers crossed.

Acrobatic Arachnids?

2005-09-08T13:34:00.000-04:00

This question has plagued me all summer.

When you see a spider web built between two objects that are several feet apart, how does the spider do that? How does he initially get the string of web across such a great distance?

For instance, consider a web built between two fence posts. The posts are about 6' tall, and are about 8' apart. (This is roughly the scenario I encountered on my run this morning. Sadly for the spider, I seem to have destroyed his handiwork. He shouldn't have built his web across a path.)

So how did he do it? He can't float across the space between the poles with his string of web. He can't attach to Post A, crawl across the ground, and then climb Post B and attach the other end. The string of web would pick up all sorts of crap on the ground, and in any case it would be too long. I can only think of one way for the spider to accomplish this that is even remotely plausible. He must jump from the very top of Post A, trailing his web, and land on Post B. But when the distance between the two posts is large - greater, in fact, than the height of the posts themselves - he would have to jump rather high into the air to attain the trajectory needed to land on the Post B instead of hitting the ground between them. (Not to mention that he'd need fantastic aim.) I have never seen a spider demonstrate this sort of vertical agility.

How, spider, how? Allow me to understand your confounding art. I would at least like to know what I'm ruining next time I encounter one of your path-blocking masterpieces.

That Burning Sensation

2005-09-06T20:01:00.000-04:00

Oh my. I just got back from WAY too many laps around the track, and WAY too fast. My quads burn in agony every time I sit down, stand up, climb stairs, walk, move, blink or breathe. This is going to feel fantastic in the morning.

But I can't complain too much. Labor Day weekend was blissfully lazy. I slept in past ten (twice!), gorged at the Taste of Cleveland, did a nice mellow trail run, rode the big scary rides at Cedar Point, shopped, and capped it all off last night with a big grilled ribeye and corn on the cob. It was a weekend chock full of typically Midwestern summer things. It was awesome.

Speaking of typically Midwestern things, I really wish I had taken a camera to Cedar Point. It never ceases to amaze me, the things that people are willing to wear outside of their homes. I mean, who wakes up in the morning and thinks, "Hmm, going to an amusement park today, better make sure my bike shorts are clean!" It's shocking. Really shocking.

Also, on Monday's shopping excursion, I purchased some new underwear from the Calvin Klein store. Basic, boring, practical underwear. As she wrapped my purchases, the cashier gushed, "Have you tried these yet?" I hadn't. "Well, they're super comfy, and they clean up real well!"

Um...what?!

Some things really are better left unsaid.

No Complaints

2005-09-02T16:38:00.000-04:00

For once, a post from me that contains no elements of sarcasm, no mockery of others, no bitterness, no jaded commentary. I know there is alot of bad stuff going down 1,000 miles south of here, but here in Cleveland life is pretty damn awesome.

There is not a single cloud in the sky, we have 80 degrees of refreshingly dry heat, and it's a holiday weekend. And I just got back from a company-sponsored boat trip on Lake Erie. And I don't have anything concrete to do, or anywhere to be, until Tuesday morning. No humidity, no clouds, no rain, no work, no races at 8:00 AM. Life is good.

Off to spend my Friday afternoon on the back deck, soaking up what's left of the sun with a diet coke and a good book. The midwest is far from perfect, but the upside is that you really - really - appreciate days like this.

Good Stuff

2005-09-01T15:17:00.000-04:00

This is very cool: A tally of disaster relief donations by bloggers, from Truth Laid Bear. Every little bit helps. It's not like I have much to give, but it's better than nothing. I would encourage everyone to do the same.

Thanks to Rohan for the link.

Let's hope the tide of death, misery and violence starts to turn down there, at least a little bit, in the near future.

Oh, Monday

2005-08-29T11:00:00.000-04:00

It's been an ugly morning. In a move of sheer idiocy, I tossed my keys into Drew's glove compartment while we were out and about this weekend. And there they remained, as he drove off to work. It wasn't until I was stepping out the back door, loaded up with my computer bag, purse and lunch sack, that I realized what I had done.

So I called Drew's cell phone. No answer. Called his office, which he clearly had not arrived at yet, and left a message to the effect of: "I've stupidly marooned myself at the house. I'm reallyreallyreallysorrysweetie, but could you prettyprettyplease bring my keys home?"

Unfortunately, Drew has Big Important Meetings at work on Monday mornings. So no, he could not bring my keys home, not without causing some major raised eyebrows. Doh. But I could take the bus, could I not? In theory I could. I have never ridden a bus in Cleveland, but I've frequently cursed at them for blocking the right lane as I'm driving to work, so it must be possible....

So I pull up Cleveland's official transit map. I don't think I've ever seen a less helpful document. There is no way that the bus/train system can possibly be as complicated at this map implies; there just aren't that many roads in Cleveland! There are, like, three streets that go downtown from the Eastern Suburbs. Is there not a bus that runs straight down at least one of them? Unbelievable.

Alas, I ended up calling a taxi. After a thirty-minute wait for said taxi, I finally made it into the office around 10:00, surreptitiously set up my computer and buried my nose in a binder of documents, trying to make it look like I hadn't wasted half of my morning for poor key management. Not exactly a relaxing way to start the work week. But oh well. I guess it can only go uphill from here.

Easy Money

2005-08-27T12:16:00.000-04:00

Well, today was another first. And a surprising one!

I won $50 for placing third in a neighborhood charity 5k. $50 for 20-odd minutes of work? Outstanding. That's, like, almost as much as my hourly billing rate at work. (Of which I end up getting a very small fraction. But that's another discussion entirely.)

Now, this sounds a whole lot more impressive than it actually was. In the world of people who win money for running, my time was laughably slow. In fact, the girl who won was almost four minutes ahead of me. And the second-place finisher was this mom with two little kids who ran faster than I ever ran in all of high school or college. But, hey, I got lucky. There happened to be no other really fast female runners, so third place went to me. And now I'm $50 richer. Yay!

Because it's Friday

2005-08-26T15:32:00.000-04:00

...and I don't have the energy to tell you about the recent happenings in my life, such as:

How my black toenail is finally falling off
The obnoxious woman in front of me in line today at lunch, who ate the last two - two! - samples, depriving me of my rightful morsel
The great new hair conditioner I'm using, which is gradually tinting my mousy hair a delightful shade of auburn

None of this makes for terribly exciting posting. So instead, I leave you with this:

Off to begin the weekend countdown...

Draft, Schmaft

2005-08-25T17:29:00.000-04:00

The office has been a-frenzy today preparing for the Draft Party for the Fantasy Football league we are sponsoring.

I use "we" loosely here. My knowledge of football is rather limited. In fact, it is generally limited to knowing which direction which color team is going on the field, and knowing where the fridge is so I can get myself another beer.

So tonight I will spend my evening with a smattering of lawyers, bankers, accountants and other such professionals, listening to all of them banter about players and stats and yadda yadda yadda. Yawn. Hopefully I will find a sympathetic soul who wishes to talk something other than touchdowns and yards and rushing and tight ends.

But hey...at least there's free beer.

Take that, gravity!

2005-08-23T14:16:00.000-04:00

Yesterday was a milestone. I did something that I have never been able to do, not once in my twenty-five years of life.

I did a pull-up.

Now, before you mock me, consider what the pull-up presents to those of us who have more booty than bicep. The thought of using my skinny arms to haul up the entire mass of my being? Clothing, shoes and jewelry included? Ha! Why don't you attach a trailer hitch to me and I'll lug along the washing machine too.

But I guess Ohio does a body good. Increased running, reduced consumption of fun and fattening beverages, a modest strength training regime (which really is pretty pathetic but is more than I was doing when I lived in L.A., which was...um, nothing, because I really dislike strength training). I now have just enough strength in my arms to haul my ass upward.

This will definitely come in handy if I ever find myself dangerously suspended over a pit of crocodiles, or if I must otherwise haul my bodily mass out of mortal danger. Other than that, I guess the only real value is basking in the fact that I can do something that most American females cannot.

As a reward, I've giving myself a week off of strength training.

Moments that make you roll your eyes

2005-08-22T10:37:00.000-04:00

Generally speaking, the recent barrage of news coverage about the Sheehan protest is nothing but a giant snore. So some unemployed, middle-aged peaceniks are playing summercamp on a dirt road. Good for them. I would love to leave my office job and go hang out on the sunny Texas plains for a few weeks, cause or no cause. I'm sure they've having the time of their lives and making lots of new friends.

Why is this so newsworthy? I mean, I get the symbolic point - the whole making-a-statement thing. And the emotional component is certainly heartbreaking. Any parents who loses a child, though the war or other means, deserves comfort and empathy. But...these people are not doing anything! They are hanging out. Sipping lattes and enjoying fifteen minutes of fame. Patting themselves on the back and thinking eagerly of how they will tell their grandchildren of their boldness and bravery.

The last sentence of one of today's many news articles on the protest was particularly illuminating. The gist of the article is that a bunch of pro-war demonstrators, led by a father who was incensed that his fallen son's name was included on a cross in the Sheehan camp's memorial, have set up their own summercamp nearby. The hawks offered to meet with the doves in an official debate. Here was the dove response:

"We're asking for a meeting with the president, period," said Michelle DeFord, whose 37-year-old son, Sgt. David W. Johnson, was in the Army National Guard from Oregon when he was killed in Iraq last fall. "We don't want to debate with people who don't understand our point of view."

Okay, Michelle, and I'm genuinely sorry for the loss of your son but let me explain this to you in very easy terms:

(1) When you have a debate, the people on the other side generally do not understand your point of view. This is precisely why you have the debate. You have essentially said that you don't want to talk to anyone who doesn't agree with you. By your own definition, you do not want to debate, period. Which brings me to point number two...

(2) If you don't want to debate with people who don't get your POV, then why on earth are you demanding this presidential rendezvous? President Bush, I'm sure, empathizes with the fact that many have lost loved ones abroad. However, he has a country to run. And a war to conduct. And, if we asked you, you would probably say he probably has to fix all of the schools, provide free health care to everyone, lower gas prices and plant trees. I'd say he should probably get on with all of that instead of pow-wowing with you. And I highly doubt that he "gets" your point of view, insofar as you appear to be wasting a great deal of your time shuffling around your tent camp and posing for AP photos rather than doing something productive in society.

Arg. This is why I don't like talking politics lately. Too many people with their fingers in their ears, humming loudly to themselves and pretending that no one could possibly disagree with them.

Of course, I always think I'm right too, but you don't see me demanding conferences with powerful public figures to tell them so.

On the Penguin Bandwagon

2005-08-20T23:43:00.000-04:00

Finally saw the Penguin movie today. I know, I know...from the girl who gets really excited about Animal Planet and Discovery Channel programming, you would think I'd have seen it sooner. But I haven't had a chance until now, and this afternoon turned out to be a perfect movie afternoon: crazy thurderstorms, suffocating heat, and such intense humidity that I didn't even need to fill Emmy's water dish this morning. I've gotta say, as much as I've loved summer here, I will be glad when autumn starts to cool things off a bit.

Anyway. The movie was excellent. Highly recommended, even to non-Animal-Planet-inclined types. Sometimes nature is so much better than anything Hollywood could invent.

And this was on the heels of a riveting Friday night watching "The Office" DVDs. (Not the mediocre American version, but the original BBC version, which is funny as hell in spite of the fact that I have to turn on the subtitles to understand what anyone is saying.) Why was that show only on for two years? I don't get it. Stapler in Jello. That's genius!

Well, sadly, it is 11:30 and I am going to bed. I woke up at 6:30 this morning to race, and will be up at 7:00 tomorrow for the weekly trail run. Weren't weekends supposed to be for sleeping in? *Sigh* Oh well. I figure I will do plenty of weekend hibernation this winter, when nighttime darkness persists until 8:30 and there are no races to drag me out of bed.

Off to toss fitfully in a pool of perspiration, with sweet dreams of air conditioning...

Pod-tastic

2005-08-19T14:57:00.000-04:00

I think I might really, really have to own this. My one misgiving about the IPod is its lack of a radio. Sometimes I prefer the radio when I'm running; I like the randomness, and the potential to hear catchy pop songs that I'd be mortified to actually own. Now, apparently, I can eat my cake and have it too. Yay!

Ice Cubicle

2005-08-17T17:01:00.000-04:00

Our office air conditioning has gone officially insane. It is SO COLD in here. I've spent most of my workday bouncing around between the conference room and empty offices trying to find a more hospitable work space than my cubicle, which happens to be located directly in the path of the overzealous AC vent. I believe building maintenance has been contacted multiple times, and at one point this afternoon I saw a maintenance-looking guy wandering around, looking confused. And yet the ridiculous temperature persists.

Hopefully they will turn the thing off after 5:30. I'm sticking around here for a couple more hours, waiting for Drew to get off work. We're going to an O.A.R. concert tonight, and I really hope it doesn't make me feel totally old...I suspect it will be mostly a college-student crowd.

Unrelated aside: Does anyone know how to delete comments that random people leave? I'm not really digging having dumb advertisements left here, like the one attached to the post below.

Kitchen Invasion

2005-08-14T17:22:00.000-04:00

Returning from vacation and getting back to regular old life can be stressful and unpleasant. Especially when that transition leads you to the discovery of carpenter ants in your pantry.

Drew and I have been noticing the occasional lone large ant crawling along the kitchen wall since we got back last week. Each one was promptly smashed and sent to the trash can in a paper towel. No big deal. We can live with a few ants, right? No cause for panic.

Then this morning, as I was shuffling around for a pre-race meal, I lifted up an open cereal box and saw the true extent of the problem. The nasty little bastards scattered in a million directions as soon as I disturbed their shelter, preventing me from doing paper-towel damage control. Stupid damn ants. But no time to deal with it now, I was on my way out the door to run a 10-miler with my running club. (Which, at the time, was really not any more appealing than dealing with the ants.)

So this afternoon I took everything out of the pantry - uncovering little carpenter-ant foxholes here and there along the way - and sprayed the thing down with Raid. And then wiped the dead ants out of there so I could put everything back, scooping away piles of soggy black ant parts. Yuck.

On the plus side, though, I placed third in my age group at the race and won a functioning race-logo beer stein. Which is a hell of a lot better than some of the other age-group booty I've collected this summer - pen sets, squeeze toys, random statuettes that have seemingly nothing to do with running. Where do people come up with this stuff?

Off to put that stein to good use. Today, I've earned it.

Curse You, Diet Coke

2005-08-12T00:54:00.000-04:00

Curse you for tempting me into snapping open your ice-cold can tonight and taking in your caffinated refreshment. I was working late. I was exhausted and thirsty. I was weak. And now I totally cannot fall asleep.

It's incredible, really, how quickly you fall back into the swing of things after a long vacation. It seems like I was never gone! But every so often I catch a glimpse of the bitchin' tan I got in Mexico and am happily reminded that just a few days ago, I was lounging in a pool, surrounded by a good chunk of the people I care dearly about in this world, sipping a cold cerveza and not even knowing what day of the week it was. *Sigh*

Saturday is Drew's birthday: the official end of the twelve day period where, annually, I am the older and wiser one. We'll do a nice dinner, then probably go out for drinks with the guys. I wish I could say I am planning something more exciting for him, but honestly after all of the excitement of the last two weeks, I think relaxing at home will do just fine.

And then there's yard work. Our garden is so wickedly overgrown that we are officially "that house" on the block again. Although it's not quite as bad as the last time we were "that house" - the time when someone mysteriously mowed our unruly front lawn for us, presumably to save face for the rest of the neighbors. (Hey, it was before we owned a lawn mower, all right? It takes some time to adjust to this whole "house with a yard" thing.)

Well, time to try again on the sleep thing. Wish me luck. Because I've got a date with my running shoes at 6:30 AM, and I'd hate to stand them up. Nighty night...

Hola!

2005-08-10T16:53:00.000-04:00

Back from Colorado, back from Mexico, back to Cleveland and lovely midwestern thurnderstorms. Bleh.

We were supposed to get in last night. Our flight from Cabo connected through Dallas. It was to be a pretty tight connection, considering that we'd have to claim our bags, go through customs, then recheck them and get to our gate, but as long as our flight was on time it would be manageable.

And, it was. Yay!

Except that when we touched down at DFW airport, we sat on the runway for a good half hour. Apparently there was another plane in our gate. Why we couldn't just use a different gate, I have no idea. But evidently we had to wait for our scheduled port to be free of other planes before we could deboard.

I stopped by the American Airlines agent on duty near the international baggage claim and inquired into the status of our flight.

"Well, they're boarding right now," he said, a hint of empathy in his voice.

"We don't have a shot in hell, do we?" I replied.

The agent smiled. "Go, try. You might make it."

By the time we got our luggage through customs and redeposited in the hands of AA baggage people, we had ten minutes to go. Back through security, then on to the adjacent terminal. Not wanting to take the time to put my shoes back on, I sprinted in my socks for probably almost half a mile, arriving at the gate in a sweaty panic.

Emtpy.

A nearby passenger, awaiting the gate's next scheduled flight, grinned at me as I skidded to a halt. "They've been calling you over the intercom for twenty minutes," he said.

"It's too late?" I panted. But I knew the answer. "Just curious, how much did we miss it by?"

"Like, two minutes."

Groan.

So we ended up spending last night in an American Airlines-funded hotel room. We took the first flight out this morning, but by the time we dealt with luggage, getting the car, getting home and changing clothes, it was almost 3:30 by the time I got to the office.

And now it's storming violently outside, threatening my plans for a nice, relaxing run this evening.

What a welcome. I missed you too, Cleveland.

Greetings from Denver

2005-08-04T01:12:00.000-04:00

...which is acutally a pretty nice city. Aside from the weather, anyway. I had hoped that this trip would convice Drew that Colorado is a great place to live and we should move here someday, but alas, we've had thunderstorms every single day that we've been here. Oh well.

Saturday through Monday we spent backpacking in Rocky Mountain National Park. We hiked in 7 miles on Saturday afternoon, established a base camp of sorts, and did moderately strenous dayhikes on Sunday and Monday before hiking out Monday afternoon. (And yes, it was a great birthday. Any birthday where I awake in a tent surrounded by 12,000'+ peaks is a great birthday!)

On Tuesday we went climbing at a local crag outside of Allenspark called the Ironclads. Whew...it was a good thing that the Alamo rental car people were nice enough to upgrade us (for free!) from an Economy to an SUV. Our Trailblazer barely made it up the burly 4X4 road to this little climbing spot. And then...after only a few climbs, thunderclouds appeared out of nowhere, forcing me into the quickest rappel I have ever executed. I did NOT want to get us stuck on a flooded Jeep trail. We managed to beat the rain and headed to Fort Collins, the destination for today's whitewater rafting adventure.

After a restless night of camping at a forest service campground during which we endured the antics of drunken redneck neighbors until 3:00 AM, we headed out this morning for rafting on the Cache la Poudre river. We were paired with another couple from Kansas, both of whom were with the Topeka Police Department, and managed to paddle our way through the Class III and IV rapids sufficiently well that by the end of the trip, our boat's guide was actively conspiring with the other guides to get us wet. No luck, though...everyone stayed in the raft and a great time was had by all, in spite of the afternoon thunder and rain.

And now we are in Denver. Tomorrow at the ungodly hour of 6:00 AM, we board a flight to Los Cabos. But we decided to celebrate our single evening in the Mile High City with dinner at downtown's finest establishment (according to Zagat), Adega. Also one of the city's most expensive restaurants, as we discovered, with an impeccible wait staff and an impressive wine list. We both ordered the Prix Fixe menu, which included wine tastings with each of the six small courses. As we tasted each course and listened attentively to the Sommelier's commentary on each wine pour, we tried remain as poised and grown-up as we could, not wanting to seem out of place in this swanky atmosphere.

But, as we discovered, we needen't have worried. At the large round table next door was a collection of genuine Colorado country bumpkins, whom I only can guess had recently come in to money of some sort. This was apparent as we overheard a bearded man, ostensibly the group's leader, remark casually in a painfully backwoods twang:

"Yeah, ya know, then I got me a bottle of wine that cost three grand, but really, I wahn't all that im-press'd."

Right, right, right.

Things got even better when they got to their dessert course, and apparently became engaged in a deep converstion about personal needs and desires. From the same bearded farmer-man:

"Ya know, unless there are, like, 50 million things in my head, I get, like, bored"

To which Drew replied in an irritated mutter:

"I'll put 50 million things in your head. All of them, like, small and metal."

Heh.

So perhaps the company wasn't the best, but it was really a spectacular meal. And the Sommelier's wine recommendations were sufficiently good that, as the check arrived, I asked if we could keep the paper copy of the Chef's menu that had been left on our table, so that we could reference the wine selections in the future.

"Sure," said the waiter smoothly. "Would you like me to have the chef sign in?" he continued without missing a beat, his face totally serious. He must be joking!

I began to chortle, but was interrupted by Drew, who interjected with a hearty: "Oh, yes!"

"Uh, okay," said the water as he snatched up the piece of paper and headed toward the kitchen, returning a few moments later with autographs from the chef and the Sommelier, and a slight smirk on his face. I was mortified.

"How could you not? H0w could you not take him on up that?" Drew insisted as we strolled back toward our hotel. "That's the joke! A signature from the chef! It's brilliant."

Right. And now this Chef thinks I have a crush on him or something. But oh well. When am I ever coming back to Denver? Who knows. For now, it's time to focus on Mexico. Don't know if we'll have internet access there - I suspect not. Until next week, then...

Fire Drill!

2005-07-29T11:18:00.000-04:00

I leave for the airport in exactly three hours. And I just got the dreaded phone call, Blumberg-style: "Um, yeeeaaaah, can you get that analysis done by the end of the day? Yeah, the one that you've been sitting on all week at my request? If you could just finish that before you leave today, that would be greeeeeat. Fantastic."

Actually, it wasn't that bad, and my boss is a really nice guy. But still. I'm on vacation in three hours, people! How am I supposed to be productive? How?

Growl.

Checked Out

2005-07-28T09:15:00.000-04:00

The week before a vacation is never very productive at work. I have spent more time thinking about vacation, planning vacation, and talking about vacation than I have actually working. By a longshot, probably.

So, in the interest of spending even more time talking about vacation, here is the plan:

Friday: Fly into Denver. Drive to Estes Park.
Saturday, Sunday, Monday: Backpack in Rocky Mountain National Park. Avoid bears. Hope for nice weather.
Monday night: Drive back in to Estes Park. Eat big dinner. Troll around for potential climbing partners.
Tueday: Climb somewhere. Hopefully somewhere exciting with the cool people we met the night before who were more than happy to join up with us. Worst case, toproping or really easy sport climbing, probably somewhere named the "Gumby Wall" or "Diaper Wall," as such places usually are. (My lead climbing skills, if they ever existed, have gone out the window.)
Wednesday: Raft on the Cache de Poudre river in Ft. Collins, affectionately called "the Pooter" by locals. No comment.
Wednesday night: Stay in cute boutique hotel in downtown Denver. Eat, drink, be merry, and celebrate my birthday two days late.
Thursday: Fly to Cabo at the asscrack of dawn.
Friday & Saturday: Two words. Pool, Margarita.
Sunday: Andrea and Scott's wedding...yay!
Monday: Bid post-wedding adieus. Explore town. Or: Pool, Margarita.
Tuesday: And so it all ends. Back to Cleveland.

And there went most of my vacation days for the rest of the year. Oh well.

In other news, I am now the proud owner of an adorable little blue IPod. (Thanks, mom!) I absolutely love it and have been taking it with me wherever I go. It's so cute! I can see why people are addicted to these things.

Well, 9:30, time to start the workday....

Linkage Fixed

2005-07-26T11:59:00.000-04:00

By popular request, the Fug Yourself link has been updated. So demanding!

Also, I've added a link to my Amazon Wish List, in case anyone feels like showering me with presents. (I'll even give you a good reason: My birthday is this Monday!)

Well, I can hope, can't I?

Steak? No thanks.

2005-07-26T10:01:00.000-04:00

Finally saw the Body Worlds thing last weekend. For those who are unfamiliar, the basic premise is this:

(1) Drain dead guy of all fluid and fat
(2) Refill dead guy with special "plastic" that preserves muscle, bones, nerves and other tissue
(3) Arrange dead guy in artistic and sporty pose, such as "Soccer Player" or "Gymnast," peeling back layers of muscle and skin strategically
(4) Allow the public to poke their noses around poor dead guy

It was pretty fascinating. But at the end of the day, I can't really decide whether I enjoyed it or not. I just don't know if I needed to see what my large intestine looks like up close and personal. One of those things that I may have been better off not knowing.

And I was thoroughly freaked out by one particular exhibit visitor who had a habit of leaning in very close to the corpses and whispering. Beyond weird. Also, I was amazed at the number of very small children present. Not that the material is necessarily inappropriate for children, but I'm not sure I would want to deal with a four-year-old running around dead bodies that look as though they might topple.

Anyhow. On to the next big thing: Vacation! We leave Friday for Colorado and then on to Cabo. This week will be a mix of unproducive daydreaming and last minute trip planning, I predict.

Life Imitates Comedy

2005-07-22T11:09:00.000-04:00

Oh, god.

Sometimes you see that headline just has to be a joke. Like, your web broswer is confused and you're actually on the Onion instead of CNN:

Fighting Toothlessness in Appalachia

Apparently this is a real problem, people. According to the article, the central Appalachians - which are rather close in proximity to Ohio, actually - have "the highest rate of toothlessness in America." Hey, who knew we were counting?

And then come the statistics, which really are pretty shocking. The percentage of people who have lost six or more teeth because of gum decay or disease: 32% in Tennessee, 38% in Kentucky, and 43% in West Virginia, which apparently "holds the distinction as the most toothless state." I'm sure they're real proud of that one.

Really, though, how weird. There are poor people all over the country. Why is it only in Tennessee, Kentucky and West Virginia that people shed teeth like a cat on a hot day?

And then, you come to this paragraph, which pretty much explains it all:

Organizers of the mobile dental clinics said too many people in mountain communities have the mistaken notion that losing teeth is a normal part of growing old. Some do not seem to realize that teeth are intended to last a lifetime.

Sometimes stereotypes are so true.

Quickest Week Ever

2005-07-22T09:38:00.000-04:00

I have a love/hate relationship with being super busy at work. One one hand, it was totally awful to get sucked into someone else's trainwreck of a project on Monday, and spend my entire week plowing through boxes of unorganized papers to find supporting documents for their report. On the other hand...it's FRIDAY, and I'm not quite sure how that happened. But I do know that I intend to celebrate with McDonald's today at lunch.

In other important news: I set a record this week for Longest Lasting Manicure Ever. (Exciting, I know.) I rarely see fit to pay someone else to paint my fingernails, but last weekend I splurged on a $16 manicure/pedicure combo. (Another record: I think it was also the Cheapest Manicure Ever.) Normally, if someone coats my nails, it chips almost immediately and I spend the next several days picking and peeling at the polish, leaving a little trail of synthetic flecks in my wake. But not this time. Six days and holding steady. It probably helps that I've been sealed in my cubicle for most of the week and cut off from the sort of active pursuits that chew up your fingers. If they make it through trail running, frisbee and lawn mowing this weekend, I'll be impressed.

Also, random strange thing: On the four-block walk from my parking lot to the office, I saw at least a dozen chicken bones littered on the sidewalk. You know, like chewed-up buffalo-wing chicken bones. And this is not the first time: I have noticed the occasional chicken bone here or there on that stretch for months. What the hell? There is no Hooters nearby. In fact, there is nothing nearby except parking lots, a fire station and an apartment building. Does someone regularly bring take-out chicken to this particular stretch of Cleveland and enjoy a feast on the sidewalk? It just doesn't make sense.

And now I think I am pushing for another record: Most Boring Post Ever. So I'll shut up and get back to work....

Shameless Self-Complimentation

2005-07-19T12:34:00.000-04:00

I don't often praise my own culinary creations. It's not that I'm a horrible cook or anything: I can successfully follow a complex recipe, and am pretty good at slight improvisations. But when I try to come up with something inventive, all on my own, it usually blows. It doesn't help that my former roommate and his girlfriend, who would frequently cook at my apartment, were the kind of people who could toss eighteen different spices and a random chunk of meat into a skillet and come out with a unique and tasty dinner. If I attempted to do that, it would either (a) have very little taste at all, thus making it edible but not particularly enjoyable or (b) taste completely nasty, causing me to curse and call Papa John's. I'm simply not very good at creative cooking.

But I have to say that last night's Shrimp and Crab Green Curry turned out exceptionally well. Okay, I know that making curry is not exactly rocket science. And yes, I may have glanced at a couple of Epicurious recipes before I started. But for the most part it was just me, picking things out of the cupboard and refrigerator and tossing them into the bubbling wok. I was footloose and fancy free! Pineapple? Toss it in! Garlic? Sure! Ginger? Lemon? Bring it on! Oh, it was good. And it tasted even better the second time around as today's lunch.

I guess everyone gets lucky once in a while!

Back

2005-07-18T10:22:00.000-04:00

...from a long weekend in L.A. Saw many friends, missed seeing many more due to lack of time. Didn't get to spend nearly enough time with anyone.

I did get some spicy tuna dip at Musha though. I love spicy tuna. And I love Musha.

And I miss L.A.

Sigh.

Great Weekend, Decent Monday

2005-07-11T15:58:00.000-04:00

It's sunny and warm and my consulting plate is rather empty. Not bad for a Monday. But apparently the leftovers of this hurricane business are headed our way shortly. I think I'll go home a bit early and enjoy the sun before everything gets soaked and soggy.

I must admit that life in Cleveland hasn't been half bad lately. It was a wonderful weekend. Not because of any single big event; it was just pleasant. One of those weekends where you live the good life and realize it while it's happening, thus allowing you to appreciate it even more.

Friday night was the Toby Keith concert. Yeah, I know what you're thinking. Yes, it's bad country music. Yes, there was alot of white trash present. But it was damn fun. Drew even had a good time, even though he'll never admit it.

On Saturday we went over to the West Side Market and picked up, among other things, two lobster tails and a filet of Copper River Salmon. Also, I treated myself to an order of reasonably authentic gui cuon (summer rolls), which are my FAVORITE FOOD in the WORLD. Mmm. Heaven.

Quaint market shopping was followed by Honey Hut ice cream and a nap, which is really the perfect way to spend a hot Saturday afternoon. (I should mention that I raced a 5K on Saturday morning, thus justifying this gluttony and laziness.)

Sunday brought my usual morning trail run, followed by a lazy afternoon stroll to Cain Park, which was hosting its annual art fair. I'm not much of an art person, but it was nice to walk around the booths and people watch. And Drew ended up buying an interesting photograph/print from a nice Californian man. (Bets on how long it will take us to actually get the thing framed and hanging, anyone?)

That evening - following an ordeal in which I attempted, with limited success, to purchase patio furniture - we grilled up the lobster, melted some butter, tossed together a fruit salad, and sipped a crisp chardonnay on the back deck, watching the fireflys spark to life as the daylight faded.

Not bad, really. I think I'm actually going to survive this Cleveland thing.

Gonna make me a pie

2005-07-07T19:20:00.000-04:00

My friendly, sixty-something next door neighbor just admonished me for not picking the plump raspberries that have recently appeared along the fence separating our respective yards. I think he even worked in a bit of a threat, telling me that if I didn't pluck them soon, "someone else just might take them."

Dude, when am I supposed to have time to pick raspberries? It's 7:30 and I just got home from work and I still have to run and go to the grocery store and clean the cat's litter box and finish the laundry that I started yesterday but then forgot about so now it's sitting there, wet and musty, in the drum of the washing machine.

Raspberries are not high on my priority list.

But maybe they should be. How wonderful would it be to skip running, skip the chores, and spend my Thursday evening concocting a raspberry torte?

Except that I have no idea how to make a torte. And even if I did, it would probably require a trip to the grocery store. And I was going to have to do that anyway. So I may as well proceed with the original plan.

Someday I will have time for raspberries and their attendant culinary possibilities. For now, I'll stick to popping a few off the vine and into my mouth when I get back from running.

Uh oh, I'm in trouble

2005-07-07T11:21:00.000-04:00

I do this all of the time. Wireless signals have pretty good reach; I can connect to two or three random networks from my house at any given time, and I know for a fact that one of our adjacent neighbors does not have wireless internet. Which means that the signal must be coming from two or three houses away.

Not that we don't have internet ourselves. We have a nice DSL connection. (And, we even bought a wireless transmitter a while back, but haven't jumped through all of the hoops to hook it up yet.) But I'm too lazy to walk upstairs to the computer room and plug my notebook in. Poaching someone else's wireless is just easier.

And, if you don't want someone using your signal, protect the damn thing with a password. Duh. You can't claim that someone is stealing your stuff if you let it roam freely around the neighborhood.

I highly doubt that a criminal crackdown on this would be effecive. But just in case, at least I don't lurk creepily in my vehicle in front of other peoples' houses.

(Because I'm too lazy to do that. It's easier to go upstairs.)

Pop Interlude

2005-07-05T14:40:00.000-04:00

I've been on a CD burning kick lately. I realize that most people were excited about this technology years ago; I guess I'm outdated. But now that I (a) have a laptop and (b) am allowed to listen to music at work, doing the whole digital-music-library thing has finally become convenient and worthwhile. One of these days I'll get an IPod. And that will be life on the cutting edge!

Anyway. The other day one of my friends, who recently purchased a snappy new car, was bemoaning her scant CD collection. What good is a snappy new car, she lamented, if you have no snappy music to cruise along with?

Since I've been building a veritable database of music on my computer over the last two months - a combination of ripping my own CDs, ripping CDs pilfered from my cubicle neighbor, and purchasing the occasional single online - I offered to burn her a CD or two of snappy new car music. But I haven't listened to music since the 80s, she warned. Wow. Well...okay. Mission accepted.

This was more difficult than it seemed. How do you make a fun, contemporary mix for someone whose most recent musical reference point is the Pet Shop Boys? Rap and hip-hop were out; she doesn't really seem like the rump-shakin' type. Super-hard rock was out too; she's more fun-loving-pop than angry metal. Mainstream pop/rock is just about the right mood, but I wanted to make something a little more eclectic - if she wanted straight-up Top 40 Crapola, she could listen to KISS FM. So this is what I came up with:

1. Mr. Brightside - The Killers
2. Breathe In - Frou Frou
3. Such Great Heights - The Postal Service
4. Amazing - Josh Kelley
5. Why Can't I? - Liz Phair
6. Santa Monica - Everclear
7. Pieces of Me - Ashlee Simpson
8. Ants Marching - DMB
9. Breathless - The Corrs
10. Float On - Modest Mouse
11. White Flag - Dido
12. Hella Good - No Doubt
13. World Looking In - Morcheeba
14. 3 AM - Matchbox 20
15. They - Jem
16. Starry Eyed Surprise - Paul Oakenfold
17. Leaving Me - Zox
18. Whatever, Whenever - Shakira
19. Sunday Morning - Maroon 5
20. Steve McQueen - Sheryl Crow
21. Winding Road - Bonnie Somerville

And there went a couple of hours of my workday. Oh well. :)

Back from the Backwoods

2005-07-05T09:27:00.000-04:00

Wow. I just realized I haven't posted in a week. A week! Shame on me. I have failed you, my loyal readers. All three of you!

So I guess I never mentioned my plans for the holiday weekend. Drew and I decided to try out a little backpacking, Appalacian-style, in West Virginia's Monongahela National Forest. (That's a Native American word for "white trash." Ha, I'm kidding. I think.)

We packed up the truck and headed out of town Friday afternoon, cruising happily across the quaint farmlands of southwestern Pennsylvania. The gentle hills crept up in grade as we moved south, and by the time we exited the interstate we were rolling up and down steep country roads, the surrounding hills blanketed with lush greenery. Aside from the occasional cluster of rusted trailer homes, it was beautiful.

After a slight navigational mishap (and a late dinner stop at Fox's Pizza Den in Parsons, which was surprisingly good) we landed at the parking lot to our trailhead. It was dark. We set up our little tent in the parking lot, brushed our teeth, and crashed.

Bright and early the next morning, we started on our loop trail. For miles we meandered along Otter Creek, splashing across on mossy stones whenever the trail crossed the stream. By hour three of the hike, my boots were soaked. (As it turned out, they would stay that way for the rest of the trip.) On day two we left the river valley and climbed to a ridge, where the ground was drier and the forest slightly thinner. For some reason, I was hoping we would pop out of the trees on a mountaintop somewhere and be rewarded for our climb with open sky and wide views. But that doesn't seem to happen in the Appalacians. (Which, in retrospect: Of course it doesn't. We were only at like 3,000 feet. Of course we're not going to get above treeline. Which makes me sad. I miss the Sierras!)

On and on we trudged under the canopy of trees. The ridge seemed endless. Finally, as the afternoon waned we began to drop slightly. I examined the trail map. The loop completed itself by dropping back down the the river, then the trail retraced itself for a few miles and led us back to the parking lot. No way were we going to make it back to the car tonight; another night of camping was in order. But we needed that river for water, as the ridgetop was totally dry. We had to be getting close to the end of the loop. I spotted a pretty clearing through the trees about thirty feet from the trail and made an executive decision: we would stop here, and Drew would make camp while I ran down the trail to the river to retrieve water. It could only be a half-mile, maybe a mile at most.

So I dropped my pack, grabbed the water filter and empty bottles, and started down the trail. Down I went...

...and down....

...and down...

...and then way down. No way was this a mile. More like two or three miles. And the trail was steep. Each time my boot heel stuck the rocky downgrade, I thought about what a pain it was going to be to haul my ass back up to camp, along with the water.

Grumbling, I finally reached the river valley and set about filling the bottles, cursing to myself in a low growl as I pumped. And then mother nature answered: the sky offered a rumbling growl of its own, as if sharing my frustration. Oh, crap. Thunder.

The storm held off for, oh, about two and a half minutes while I finished quickly with the water and jogged back toward the trail. The rain came just as I began to ascend, quickly soaking me and making a muddy river of the steep, rocky mountainside. I blazed upward, quads searing with pain, and noticed with irritation that the river-trail now provided plenty of pools of sufficient depth to pump. Dry tributaries had suddenly come fo life, and I splashed through the newly abundant creeks as I climbed. Salt in the wound, I guess.

Somehow I made it back to camp almost as quickly as I had descended. As I staggered into the clearing, soaked from head to toe, the rain relented to a light sprinkle. Tentative melodies issued from the treetops as birds began to emerge. Somewhere, I'm sure, a happy rainbow arched over the sky. I was torn between absolute furiosity and detatched amusement.

And there was Drew, dry and warm in the tent. But not for long, I thought as I wrung my dripping ponytail. Heh.

All in all, it was a good trip. I'll post some pictures as soon I download them from Drew's camera.

And now time to get to work.

Complaining about the weather, summer-style

2005-06-27T10:01:00.000-04:00

It is damn hot.

And no, we do not have air conditioning.

The butter in our butter dish melted. We had a bag of chocolates sitting in the cupboard...now we have chocolate sauce. Emmy just lays sprawled out on her back, looking at me accusingly. As if it's my fault she's wearing a fur coat. (Maybe we should shave her for the summer...)

I can't believe it's not even July yet. It feels like August in the freakin' bayou up in here. Last night Drew and I were watching the Weather Channel, with its colorful animated temperature-band map, and the whole country was Red and Dark Orange, except for a little section of Montana, which was refreshingly Yellow. The Yellow patch (which I think means temps in the 70s) shifted about, moving east as the week's forecast progressed. It marched across Minnesota, Wisconsin, Illinois, and Michigan with its promise of milder temperatures, then did a little pivot turn and hit Pennsylvania, West Virgina and Kentucky, avoiding Ohio completely. Ohio stayed nasty Dark Orange the entire time. What the hell? Are we doomed to endure this heat indefinitely?

Maybe it's time to look into a window AC unit. For the cat's sake, at least.

Saturday morning laughs

2005-06-25T11:45:00.000-04:00

Occasionally I read something so amusing that it actually makes me spew a beverage out of my nose. (I'm still not sure how, logicistially, that projecticle sip of coffee gets from my mouth to my nasal cavity in so quickly and painlessly. But nevermind.)

Anyway. This morning's offending passage was from a hilarious book called Sex, Drugs, and Cocoa Puffs, by Chuck Klosterman, an editor at Spin magazine and, apparently, an extremely funny guy.

I implore you, put down that beverage:

An inordinate number of cereal commericals are based on the premise that a given cereal is so delicious that a fictional creature would want to steal it. We are presented with this scenario time and time again. The most obvious is the Trix Rabbit, a tragic figure whose doomed existence is not unlike that of Sisyphus. Since the cereal's inception, the rabbit - often marginalized as "silly" - has never been allowed to enjoy even one bowl of his favorite foodstuff, and the explanation for this embargo smacks of both age discrimination and racism (we are to accept that Trix is reserved exclusively "for kids.")

Brilliant.

I can't wait to read on. I think the Lucky Charms leprechaun is coming up next.

Afternoon Delight

2005-06-24T16:07:00.000-04:00

There is absolutely nothing better on a hot afternoon than one of these. Heaven on a popsicle stick. Chocolate ice cream is so overrated.

And the last hour of this work week will go down much easier now that I have one in my belly.

Aroma of a million small deaths

2005-06-23T09:12:00.000-04:00

Did you know that if you get dead insects together in sufficient quantity, they actually have a smell? Well, they do. Dead bug smell. Yuck.

I had never smelled it before, but somehow I recognized it immediately upon entering the turnstyle door to my office yesterday. Apprently, the bugs seep into downtown from Lake Erie, plaster themselves to every glass surface they can find, and then die and drop to the ground thirty-six hours later. The ground is literally carpeted with bug corpses. These, then, get swept into the turnstyle and ground against its sides, producing a light-colored smear around the bottom of the cylinder and resulting in the disgusting smell.

Foul, foul, foul.

I always suspected Tom Cruise of wizardry

2005-06-22T14:16:00.000-04:00

Fifteen seconds of hilarity in the middle of an otherwise boring day at the office.

Am I a bad person...

2005-06-20T16:07:00.000-04:00

...for finding this photo absolutely hilarious?

Yeah, I know. I'm going straight to hell.

(Via Rohan's blog.)