Irreverent musings on a summer day

Earlier today, while driving, I had a brilliant diatribe for this space... it always happens when driving--I become absolutely a brilliant composer in my head, and by the time I park, take care of everything and have a few minutes... it is GONE. Well, not the fiction--not usually, just my thoughts on life, because they are oft fleeting and typically not worthy of notation; but I'm fairly certain that I probably had the key to something like the fountain of youth and it is forever lost in the dire need to stop off for vegetables and eggs. And if any of you try to tell me that a healthy diet is the key to that fountain... there might be an accident.

Of one thing I can assure you, cats are not the key to living a youthful existence sometimes. Bowie has spent the last several minutes crying like he's dying... and you know why? He is afraid of his reflection in the mirror. I remove him from the bathroom counter and he's back up there, screaming bloody murder. He is a fierce and mighty jungle beast instill fear into the hearts of those in his path, and that includes him.

To counter Bowie, I turned up the speakers on my iPod... yegods, if the neighbors don't already hate me they now have Bon Jovi at arena level decibels. At least I'm not nekkid... at least, not anymore, earlier on the patio might have been another story... and I wouldn't say nekkid as much as I would say topless... there is a subtle difference.

And now, the crisis of dinner... I have stuff to make, I even found some relatively exciting and new recipes; I did go grocery shopping last night and to farmers market this afternoon... but the crisis is not what to make, but IF to make... Lately, I don't want dinner; I'm hungry, but all I really want is copious amounts of Diet Coke or Diet Mountain Dew. I am willing to fore go food for this all driving want. I know it is bad, I know I should cook something healthy and eat and forget the soda, but I am thinking, I will be in the drive thru getting a soda, or at the 7-11 and not eating dinner again tonight. It makes me worry, one of the memories very strong for me is of my grandma--who rarely ate anything beyond a donut and the rest of her day was spent consuming coffee and cigarettes and a pace I've yet to see paralleled. I don't intend on taking up smoking, but I swear, there are some days I would just not eat and would drink coffee or soda all day so I wouldn't have to bother... that is, of course, if you threw in a few jelly candies or a cookie... I'm not a donut girl.

On that note, today is the kinda day that after sitting out on the patio reading a Shape magazine, one should go and wash one's car--and get a soda.

Mahalo.

Pink Ice

So, there I was today, in a store, shopping for life's necessities when I was deterred by the aisle containing the nail polish. It seems, recently, I'm much happier when I have nicely lacquered nails... probably related to my MLC... but nonetheless, I purchased two very fine bottles of polish, making 4 bottles this week alone.

Now to provide some relevance into why I needed the fourth bottle (as if the third bottle was not obvious--I didn't have silver, duh!): Several weeks ago, I started writing a new series of chapters for what may turn into a small book, tentatively titled Pink Ice. Our main character finds herself in the midst career boredom and a bottle of nail polish triggers a series of events that comprise the storyline. The polish is a silver pink and thusly called Pink Ice... today's 4th bottle of polish was a nice silvery pink, and it was called Pink Ice... fortuitous, no?

As you can image, I was terribly excited and felt that I needed to have that as a token to my story. When inspiration comes at $2 a bottle, you really don't pass it up. Especially when you consider that the polish gracing my nails currently runs upward of $8 a bottle and is called "deeply in love" a sentiment that neither describes me or the color very accurately... Pink Ice seems a little more apropos.

And a few comments on my outing tonight... first, it was Top of the Park for a salsa dancing lesson and listening to the Cuban music that followed (oh and there were some awesome white man dances going on to that Cuban rythym, I do have to say). It became overly crowded and I could no longer handle getting pushed in the crowd for no other reason that people are rude. A cappucino from Beaners (take that Starbucks)... and I was off to Meijer... and let me just say, screaming children do not belong in a grocery store after 9... they are tired, let them sleep and not scream for 20 minutes in the meat department. If you pre-teen falls because he isn't skilled with his stupid roller shoes, yelling at him probably won't help and only makes you look like an ass. Finally, and I can't stress this enough, showering is essentially everyday... and if you think you might not pass--take a second one before you enter a grocery store--or any establishment for that matter. Just sayin'.

Pink Ice, signing out.

Simply Shoes

This morning the email that most women wait for appeared in my inbox... DSWs Summer Sale began today. More shoes were slashed to 80% off, triple points for members today... a shoe extravagnza!! OR so they want you to believe.

Don't get me wrong, I left with a new pair of shoes, but I have to comment on a few things.

1. Designers need to stop trying to mimic the "Glass" slipper. The poly-plastic-crap used to make them are sticky and look good are almost no one when the feet start to swell and appear like sausage in a casing.

2. Adding large plastic globs that looks like the Goody hair twisties when I was 5 to the thong on a pair of sandals does not make them worth an extra $25.

3. Just because the shoes were $80 and are now only $8 does not mean that you should buy them if they aren't really want you wanted. If you don't like wedges, ladies, you will not like them any better only paying $8.

Again, today, I wandered the aisles of DSW thinking that, for the most part, the shoes were plain and unoriginal. There was a pair of Chinese Laundry that I loved, but they didn't have them in my size. Instead, I kept coming back to these dark red K-Swiss shoes... so when I came back to them a fourth time, I decided to get them... and my size was not there. I tried them on in a half size smaller than my usual, and they were a great fit.

Shoes represent who we are; they are part of oue essential personality... shoes matter. I just wonder what it says about me that I'm suddenly bored by the "usual faire." And tonight, while IM'ing with a friend about mid-life crises (MLC), I wondered if that might be part of it. An early MLC... And I decided in our conversation that a MLC Checklist was in order... so here it is:

__ Buy a very expensive article of clothing (or two).

__ Have a fling with a 20-something.

__ Experiement with hair color.

__ Join a community garden.

__ Ravage your closets to throw out anything that is remotely useless.

__ Begin dancing to your iPod in the weight room of your gym while waiting on a machine.

__ Download to your iPod those songs that remind you of the ::Glory Days:: (bonus if you download Glory Days).

Ok, what am I missing here?

Poisoning the muzik

Tonight, I watched two videos... not an activity that I do very often, but I just couldn't help it. Poison has released their 20th anniversary album. Where do I start?

I guess I start 20 years ago (sorry SK... we have to face the facts) when four men in make up and women's attire came screaming into the airwaves of Cheboygan begging us to Talk Dirty to Them--this meant that they had likely been making this request for some time, as Cheboygan was often a little behind the times. Then, there was the begging of the parents to let me go see them in concert... first, the opened for Ratt, and I wasn't allowed to go. The next year they toured through the area opening for David Lee Roth... and I got to go. Oh yeah, the Roth-man. That was the year I for Brett Michaels and Rikki Rocketts' autographs. It was awesome but would have only been made better if it had been CC. The following year, I got to see them headline (Tesla opened). It was even better.

Fast forward to now... yeah, I have some Poison on my playlist, nostolgia gets to me from time to time and I need a little Talk Dirty to Me, a little of the Crue, some Tesla... but I was so unprepared for the videos.

First, I have to say Poison making a comeback as a cover band is bad, but what is worse are the two covers I heard. "We're an American Band" and "What I Like About You" are classics, and I think I might have liked them better if I had not first been exposed via video. Bobbi Dahl is balding and looking like a saggy old guy, Rikki, not much better... Brett has too much collogen and really, he tries too hard and looks like he hasn't left 1986 (sans the AquaNet). CC, well, CC is still a brilliant guitarist, lending the only redemption to the remakes, but I suspect should still not be allowed to speak.

Ironically, it was just yesterday when I was driving home listening to the lastest Bon Jovi thinking about how they survived, they've grown with their audience... they aren't the same, but they are better... they have evolved, but had you asked me 20 years ago, I would have thought that Poison would have stood the test of time (hey, there isn't anything you don't know when you are 12-13!). And today, this. I'm not surprised that Poison has sold out a stadium tour, as far as performers, they were amazing--ok, Brett and CC were amazing... I don't think the stage could handle more ego than that.

It gets me thinking a little, too, about how I purposely avoided reviews and interviews on the new Bon Jovi release so I could hear it on my own without outside interference with creating my own experience in listening to the music. It is something I try to do more lately... and yet, I dug down into the Poison videos like a moth to the light. Perhaps the reason is more to do with the unliklihood that I will actually download the CD, but in all fairness, I should have tried to listen to music before I watched it... I might have not left with as bad a taste had I not watched Brett's showboating his new lips.

Post 500, Voices Carry

The last thing I wanted my 500th post here to be was on the total rudeness of my neighbors. I'm sitting here at my laptop, writing, minding my own business and I hear my neighbors (across the sidewalk) say: At least she's dressed today. I look out and see them look in here. I know they are talking about me, they got all huffy on Friday and grabbed thier child and closed the blinds to their apartment -- and on Friday I wasn't nekkid either, I was merely wearing a bra and panties while I worked and walked around MY home. Biotches!!

They really want an issue, I can give them one. I am really tired of my uneven tanlines... and you know what's more, I am in my home--yes, the blinds are open, but you know, I don't peer into their apartment when their blinds are open... hell I don't even notice unless they are making a lot of noise with their screaming child on the patio... and even then I only look up to make sure the cats haven't somehow managed to get a squirrel.

Nekkid Friday's are really going to have to be expanded... it is the only seemingly possible and rationale solution to this kind of lunacy.

Starbucks Mindfuck

Last night, I desperately wanted to be warm... I was chilled to the core and thought--Hey, I want to be up doing some writing anyway, I'll get a coffee. And because there is some kind of warp twisted rule of the current longitudinal platform in which I exist, there must be a Starbucks within sight from any vantage point in which one is standing. So, mindlessly, I walked into Starbucks, got a large coffee and walked out. Many were doing the same thing, so I thought nothing of it. Until I took a sip of my coffee, complete with milk and sweet n' low, and remembered how much I really don't like Starbucks coffee. Their Sumatra is about the only thing I really like and they rarely ever have that brewed up. And I cursed myself because there was a Beaners right next door, and I actually like Beaners coffee. (Note: this is another sick and warped and twisted rule of the platform and that is there cannot be one coffee place isolated from another.)

Today, I was driving toward Trader Joe (where, by the way, I do actually purchase my coffee for home) and I see that they are building a new Starbucks along Washtenaw in Ypsi. This one is complete with a drive-thru... and I seriously thought, that will be nice, now I can stop and get coffee on my way to work when I forget to make it at home. And then I remembered last night... I don't like Starbucks that much and I typically stop at the Beaners on my way to work if I need a coffee AND this new Starbucks will make THREE that I pass in my 4 mile drive to work.

I don't know who the marketing genius is that works for Starbucks, but that is one evil bastard with a very keen and sharp mind, who I can only imagine is so caffienated as to be on the job 24/7 just churning out locations and pushing the Starbucks mentality into the veins of the American pop culture through his giant syringe. Starbucks has become to coffee in the mass consumer population as Kleenex has to facial tissues or Jacuzzi to hot tubs. Personally, I think their coffee tastes perpetually burnt and well, I don't buy Kleenex brand either, but like so many, I will whore myself out to Starbucks just because it is there. Sad. Very Sad.

In the words of one of my favorite chick-flicks, You've Got Mail: Starbucks is for people with no decision making ability....

Super genius rating: Starbucks: 4, Nikki 2

Rani Arbo and Daisy Mayhem

Tonight found me at the Ann Arbor Summer Festival where I had the utmost pleasure in seeing and hearing Rani Arbo & Daisy Mayhem perform at Top of the Park. I also had the pleasure of meeting Rani; when someone writes words and music as powerful as she--well then you have to make the effort to let them know how beautiful the writing is truly. Also impressive is the vocals and guitar work of Anand Nayak... though I did not get the chance to meet Anand, I do have to say that while the entire band is utterly impressive, Rani and Anand have such personality that it elevates their performaces to a level that quite often you don't get to see. I bought their latest CD, which is playing right now, and there is a rendition of Bob Dylan's Farewell Angelina that is better than Dylan's... the guitar is awesome!! And you know, I love Dylan, but I have to call it as I see it... and hey, Bob might even agree if he's heard it!

For those in Ann Arbor, they will be back in October at the Arc... definately worth the price of admission... sadly, I won't be able to attend as I will have moved by then, but they are from the East and while Rani said they don't really get to play in Philly, I can probably catch them again somewhere.

I only wish that I had been able to stay tonight for their second set. Even with a long sleeve shirt and coat, I still could not get warm and even at home, I'm still chilled right through. I had hoped a trip over to Starbucks would suffice, but no such luck. So I will settle for the CD and the rest of the night wrapped in a blanket with some tea... yep, that sounds nice... I'm off to brew some tea.

Mao, Che and the advent of the Internet message boards

It's been a while since I've even read a news story about a celebrity--I mean with Paris in jail, what is the point really!?--BUT I could not contain myself when I hopped across a story about Cameron Diaz wearing a purse with a Mao statement on it while in Peru. I found the story facsinating on several levels... 1-the consideration that it was such an incident as to create national headlines... 2-that Peruvian officials were so offended... 3-that Diaz would actually wear trite accessories (it's like wearing a Che t-shirt, it really goes against the whole concept if you believe those sentiments to even be wearing them and BUYING them).

BUT what really facsinated me were the reader comments that followed the story... and I so wish I had copied the link to provide it here, but I didn't think this morning (I'm still working on my first cuppa java, note, not Peruvian either). A few intelligent readers picked up on the onvious discussion this story opens up in sense of the political ideologies of Peru, and other countries, but many more decided to use it as an opportunity to rag on Cameron Diaz--and not even her choice of accessory but that she is too stupid, too skinny, too old (she's what, 30?!) to be held accountable for her actions... and then there were the ones that were obviously resentful of her successes. I suppose the will of the people to berate and belittle someone they don't even know for the sake of their own (not-so-celever) moment of internet celebrity can easily replace rational thought and even rise above the use of grammar, sentence structure and more high-brow contributions to society. Ah, but then art comes in all forms and who I am to judge it.

Still, while I would like to see a real discussion on politics and someday, maybe even understand why it is that the United States is considered a democracy (YES, I know the definition, and folks, we really don't fit that mold if you've been paying attention) and what the real threat of challenging that notion truly is (and I do get it, trust me... I like to play the devil... why succumb to just being the advocate?), I think it is safe to say that the only truly "safe" place to have the kind of dialogue is the Internet these days, because you never know who is sitting in the dark corner of your basement with a notepad and ticket to Guantanemo (do you really think we'll give that up?)... at least online we know who is watching and it is a lot harder to be silenced when there is a larger audience. It at least requires a lot more thought, something I wonder if our government has done in the past 8 (or more) years. Nixon was a crooked, mean bastard, but you knew where you stood in his regime--he was calculating and strategic and while he might not have done it right he at least had some character. Not that another Nixon would be the answer--yegods, I would ascertain it would certainly not be the case, but what is currently in place and what the prospects for the future look like don't hold much faith for me... it will be interesting to see how this (as Jon Stewart so aptly calls it) "Clusterfuck to the White House" will play out.

On that note, I go to the farmers market, but before I do... Cameron Diaz, you get a Super Genius rating of 2.

Whack Science

"Scientists," if you can call them that, are reporting again on links between birth order and IQ. An age old question (yes, bad pun), but apparently only of interest if the subjects are boys. At first, my reaction was on par with what may be considered "hormonal" by "science" standards, and at the very least involved the finer vocabulary I learned from going to church with my grandma--What? you think I went for any other reason? But, the finer points of the research focused on boys became evidently clear as I read the article. Clearly, as the superior sex, the research needs to be focused on boys--testing girls would only throw off the results--and make the boys look really, really bad. That is clearly the case since they did make reference to studies performed that included girls--and they were "inconclusive" and folks, we all know what that means... these male scientists didn't want the world to know their older sisters were of higher IQ than they.

Super Genius rating: 4

A week in retro

Been a crazy-ass week and thank the schema of time that means tomorrow is Friday. And, as I see it, I desperately need a weekend. Today I finally made it to the gym, it's bad when even that release gets bypassed in lieu of meeting a deadline--or 10. I did learn today one of my benefits is research services, and they will actually help with apartment searching. The time slipped away to call today, but I am tomorrow for sure, just in case...

Tonight though, I made an effort to not stay absurdly late at work, and I came home after the gym and after a run to Fed Ex, and had some dinner, played with the cats and my new phone, made cookies, painted my nails, took a long shower, and now the Starter Wife is concluding for another week and I'm thinking about heading to bed... hoping that terrible and torrential night sweats pass me by tonight.

I'm also hoping that I can erase the conversation I overheard while prepping to get on the treadmill tonight... two women in their mid to late 60s were discussing their kidney stones. I could not turn my iPod on fast enough or loud enough... but when your gym is the county rec center, you get that from time to time--the same way men old enough to be my grandfather hit on me. The one today told me I didn't need to wipe down the treadmill cause "honey you look good enough, I don't mind." Ewww.

Then, there is the mulching police at the garden. SK beared witness to this phenom when she came by to help weed on Tuesday night. Cell phone guy from the plot nearby stopped by to again recommend mulching... and why I should. Moisture and all, you know. It's going to be a long summer if I don't mulch... but now I almost don't want to out of sheer contempt for the comments.

And on that note, it is nighty-night time.

Back, Baby!

I'm back from my trip to my mom and dad's for a long weekend. Mom's gardens are in fantastic blooms--my allergies are still also in fantastic bloom--I got a lot of pictures, and this is just one.

There were frogs in the pond this morning, too. Quite cute, just sitting there resting... the chickens (yes, the have chickens, turkeys and bunnies... I will have to share the saga of the bunny farm at another time) were also happy this morning clucking and eating watermelon rind. We got a nice boat ride in on Friday evening. My brother stopped in for a few hours also...

Saturday found us going to garage sales--it was, after all, Father's Day weekend as such, you subject yourself to the insanity of garage sales with my dad. There are rules and guidelines... first, there is ALMOST no point in going unless you get there early and on the FIRST day--otherwise, the "good stuff" will already be gone. Second, you have to drive for 20 minutes and then almost talk yourself out of going once there because of distance, the caliber of stuff that might be for sale, whether or not the sellers are "bums." Finally, and apparently, the last rule I had nearly forgotten, but was reminded of when dad veered into the opposite lane of the highway, turned around in someones yard and then sent me flying from one side of the backseat to the other is that the rules of driving are suspended when searching out garage sales.

Saturday wrapped up with my taking the folks to dinner to celebrate their 20th anniversary. They decided on the new "Greek" restuarant in Cheboygan. Actually, I have to say it was more "Greek fusion" that is, Greek fused with Cheboygan. Moussaka was good, and suspiciously more like eggplant parmesan than any moussaka I've tasted... Gyros from what I could see were served up on a ciabatta bun... the Greek salad description surprisingly did not include feta, rather, "Special Feta Greek Dressing." I had the veal, it was quite tasty, dad had the shish kabobs, which were also quite good. Mom and I veered away from the Spinach pie as it was described as having ricotta, parmesan and mozerella cheeses with Greek spices--it was concerning. Also concerning was that the waitress came to the table and informed us that they were out of baked potato... Er, baked potato? Well, okay... but I was a little surprised by their spicy feta hummus... which might have been good, but we passed. All in all, the food was good, but certainly not what I would really call Greek... perhaps Greek inspired. One bonus on the dining experience was that in the hallway to the dining room were a series of photographs of the building of the Machinaw Bridge. For those not aware, this is the 50th Anniversary of the Bridge... and in acknowledgement of that, Mike Fornes, a local writer and journalist I've admired for many, many years has a book on the Bridge coming out this August. Mr. Fornes was very supportive of me as a writer when in high school, and for that I will always be grateful. I look forward to his latest endeavor.

I did make it to Mackinaw over the weekend as well, and got myself some Oreo Popcorn from the Popcorn Factory... yeah, I know, how do you take a relatively healthy snack like popcorn and turn it into a snack worse than 3 Snickers? Glaze it with sugar and toss in crushed oreos... but it was yummy!

So, busy weekend... but I am back. The kitties have almost forgiven my absence--fresh catnip, lots of treats and even more air conditioning seems to have helped with that effort. And now, a little TV and then a little sleep before the craziness of a Monday sinks in.

Inked.

Yesterday, after a mere three week wait, I got my latest tattoo. I sketched the main part myself and worked with the artist to design the rest and clean up my sketch. This is the result. It does wrap around the side of my leg--just above the left ankle... and does wrap around an older tattoo that was there before.


And I cannot speak more highly of the artist that did the work... Leo Zulueta. He'd done some work on a friend of mine last year, and I loved it. Knowing what I wanted, I went to Leo--an appointment on his calendar takes some time, and I was lucky to get in as soon as I did due to a cancellation.

What I did not know was the extent of Leo's work and influence as an artist. He's worked with Paul Jeffries, whose work I've known for a while and loved... he's been dubbed as the father of modern tribal tattooing, though I get the sense from Leo he'd just say "yeah yeah" and change the subject. I wish I'd had more of a chance to talk to him, but when someone is down by your feet and you are near your head laying on a table--it's not conducive to conversation... then there is the needle cutting into your skin.


I can barely draw a straight line free hand and coloring inside the lines has never been my fortay, so I have to say, those that can make such permanent marks in the skin with such seeming ease and utter confidence amaze me. And watching as Leo sketched on my leg, checking for evenness and balance and the numerous other factors that go into the process -- well, let's just say, it was pure genius at work. I was tempted to make my next appointment with him since he's probably booking into August by now and I leave in September. But I will be back there... I can't see myself doing a color tat again and I am fairly convinced there are not many who could take my sketches as Leo did and create something as beautiful as he did.


Mahalo.

Let's do the time warp, again

Curious day. The hours between 12:38 and 4:36 were slower than a snail dragging my body over hot asphalt and nails. Prior to the aforementioned time period, I spent 4 hours on the telephone, which is a time warp for ineffectiveness... not that I wasn't at my super genius peak; spilling out extraordinary solutions and insight at lightening speed. It isn't to imply that I was some how less super genius, but I have to tell you, when the highlight is Wikiped'ing Crystal Meth, Cocaine and the movie Deliverance, you have to wonder where things went wrong.

Case of the Missing Ice

At the risk of sounding crazy, I have this ice cube tray that no matter what after I fill it and pull out the tray, a cube is missing. I assume that there is some kind of hole or something that causes it to leak completely empty before any freezing takes place, but I can't see one. The whole situation is rather vexing and I suppose a normal person would either forget about it or get a new tray rather than continuing to let it bother her. The problem is that I never remember until a moment like now, when I pull the tray out for some ice for my tea and it is minus one cube.

A change of color

Blonde Energy comes to you a little less pink today--I let the nail tech choose my toe color yesterday, and she opted for silver. It is fabulous. And, in the spirit of some change, I picked up a bottle of Aruba Blue by Essie... not my usual OPI product, but I liked the name of the Essie color better. And isn't that the key to picking a nail polish? And so, now my fingers are blue tipped--and for a change, not because I'm cold.

I did make myself go to DSW after the pedicure, and while I purchased nothing, I realized that not wanting to shoe shop is more a reflection on the utter unoriginality with which the shoes produced en masse represent. It's almost like buying 3 prints for $40 when nothing is as satisfying as the $3.1 million dollar original. The shoes I envision in my head don't exist... and right now they would be the only satisfaction I would recieve... the rest are empty calories.

So a new week has begun, and I am without plans on this very gorgeous sunny day. I'd like to see Oceans 13, but why? It is too nice outside to have to freeze to death in a movie theatre. Same goes with shopping. I've love to go to the mall and find a flirty new sundress, but again, inside is not what I'm shooting for... so I think the day will find me picking up a few items to do some cooking and mostly sitting out on my patio, working on some writing. Perhaps I will venture out for a walk later or even a coffee... but mostly, it is a lazy Sunday with sunshine, and it just seems kinda nice.

Mahalo.

Saturday Miscellany

Apparently, the lack of sleep caught up to me last night and nailed me. It seems that my mom called at some point, and while I remember talking to her, I have not a clue about what. All I do remember is that when I got up from the chair to go into my bed somewhere in the area of midnight, Bowie had been stalking and hunting a moth. This is big excitement in the life of a housecat... so you can imagine his utter disappointment that I was not about to have his trophy buried in the blanket next to my head and tossed it to the floor. Yes, it was his blanket, but overall it is my bed.

But I awoke this morning, feeling quite good and appalled that it was only 6 a.m. So I went back to bed, if not to sleep and laid there thinking for about an hour and a half. I've had a really good bout of feeling down this week... and nothing really seems to be helping to pull myself out of this funk. I tried shopping today, but I'm feeling like a balloon right from the Macy's parade. I don't even feel like shoe shopping these days.

I'd love it if the girls all got together and hung out at an outside patio at some bar... just hang out and chat and talk and all that shit like we used to... but so many have moved, or moved on, or I have moved on. I miss it right now. I think since I'm moving some feel like I'm already gone and have just annexed me out--like it is a personal affront to our friendship that I am leaving the area. Someone pointed out to me today that I need to reread Women Who Run With the Wolves and not worry about it... that many of my local friendships currently exist not because I share a lot of common interests, but because they have always been there... and I will find my "urban tribe" when I seek out and away where it will be easier because I will have no other options.

In the meantime, I really want a pedicure, so I think I will treat myself and go out for one. It will go nice with the tattoo appointment I have for Tuesday--if I am going to be drawing attention to my feet with an ankle band tat, best that they don't look like I've spent hours in the garden over the last few days!

Can I Get My Mitts on a Dictionary? Is there an etymologist in da house?

So, this week, there was a Republican presidential "debate"... That is, if you can debate with 14 different people all yammering and saying nothing. As a point of digression, I like what Jon Stewart has done in naming this "Clusterfick to the Whitehouse."

Now, politicians and celebrities and those in the spotlight often come up with responses to questions that make no sense... given our current administration, nothing should really come as a surprise. But I was a little taken aback by Gov'nah Mitt Romney's blantant misuse of two (not one, but TWO) phrases in one sentence.

Question: We've lost 3,400 troops; civilian casualties are even higher, and the Iraqi government does not appear ready to provide for the security of its own
country. Knowing everything you know right now, was it a mistake for us to invade Iraq?

Romney's Response (partial): Well, the question is kind of a non sequitur, if you will, and what I mean by that — or a null set.

Dude, I don't even know where to go with this... sadly, of the others running under the guise of Repiblicanism, he seems the most articulate and coherent of the group. Not that articulate and coherent, or even the ability to use words correctly are of mass importance to the Republican party. After all, Mitt was probably just trying to relate to the masses... you know, the children that weren't "left behind" and not the ones pandering from door to door with a Bible spreading the true word of Jesus.

Super Genius Rating: 3

The Wash. Post Makes a Funny

And I quote from today's Washington Post in reference to Paris Hilton's reassignment to electronic monitoring and confinement to her mansion:

It could not be immediately determined if personalizing the bracelet with Swarovski crystals would interfere with its transmission capabilities.

Nice touch, Mr. Booth.

Getting Retro

Every band gets back together, eventually, and records an album of classic covers. Poison is no exception... It's like a wreck where you just have to look, even though you don't want to... And I have to agree, based on what I've heard of the CD, with the Rolling Stone review... CC's guitar work is the only redeeming quality on the recordings. Ahh yeah, CC great guitarist, but don't let him speak.

Stephen Colbert Makes My Day

Last night, on The Colbert Report (which I didn't watch until this evening) Leon Botstein, the president of Bard College, was being interviewed when Colbert referred to him as "some kind of super genius." Yeah, baby... "Super Genius"... and I swear, Colbert was so, so close to putting it all together and using "Evil Super Genius" ahhh, so close, so, so close!

Anyway, it was the highlight of this super sucky Tuesday; which isn't saying much, I know, but you take what you can and then, you watch Sex and the City and go to bed... hoping Wednesday is better, and if not entirely better, perhaps not so fucking cold.

Ambiguities, Anteaters and other things that are not related to the letter A

Part one: Ambiguities

To say astrology is, at best, ambigious seems to be rather redundant. But allow me to paint a picture: I get home from work, clean up a hairball, put my iPod on the charger, put my lunch stuff away, go into the bathroom, clean up another hairball and sit down to read my horoscope for the day, because apparently, it is only delivered via email after most of my day has past... to which it reads thusly...

Well, what was that? Frankly, you can't believe your eyes or your ears. But
after the initial shock wears off, you'll just have to laugh. Everyone has their
own way of dealing with things, and this definitely isn't yours!

I believe, wholeheartedly that this is a very circular horoscope and making any sense of it is really not possible. What I do find striking is that at least it matches in recieving it at the latter part of the day.

Part two: Anteaters

Today it was suggested to me that to allievate the ant problem I have in my garden, I should obtain and utilize an anteater. Shortly after this suggestion, SK was called in to perform some G2 gathering on this seemingly realistic approach to organic gardening.... and after dashing the hopes of this plan working, suggested several other alternatives... non nearly as exciting, but several on par with feeding a pigeon an alka seltzer. My mother, however, being rational and such merely suggested hiesting an anteater from the zoo... which obviously makes more sense than saving coffee grounds. Additional G2 may be required.

Part three: other things that are not related to the letter A

Officially, my time for the 5k yesterday was 40:17. Now, I have something to beat for the next time. Competitive? I know I will never be the one coming in with a time of 15 minutes or less, but if I could get to around 34 eventually, I think that would be sweet.

And in one of those things that make you stop and go... hmmm...Reuters reports today on how "mooing" ringtones, among other sounds, like sheep, etc. are being used to lure leopards that have infiltrated Indian villiages in the state of Gujarat. If nothing else, check out the article for the super awesome picture of a leopard playing on a tire swing.

That's it. I'm out.

Blame it on endorphins

Much, much earlier on a Sunday morning than should ever be the case, I was up, out the door and on my way to the Dexter-Ann Arbor Run. I signed up a while ago for the 5K fully intending to run it. During the 2-Day, I strained my knee and hip. The knee has healed, the hip, as I reported last Tuesday, was reinflamed with Tuesday's jaunt on the treadmill. I anticipated I would not be running today... but as it turned out, I ran about half of the 5K route. The 2-Day prepped me well for the hills, and all I coulf think is that those doing the marathon or half marathan had to finish UPHILL... really, quite cruel. That said, I am in pain but not as bad as I thought it would be given how much it really did hurt to run--especially toward the end. I just could not help myself; adrenline and competition took hold and thankfully, so did a lot of endorphins (which apparently can make one stupid).

What suprised me though, was that I enjoyed the running. I hate it when I'm on a treadmill or in the park by myself, but in the atmosphere of a few thousand people doing the same, it was kind of fun. Yeah, that's right, it was humid as all hell, I was soaked through with sweat, but it was fun. I came across the finish line somewhere about 40 minutes.... not a great time, but I was happy with it. I'll have to wait for the official times to be posted, but it was just in time to miss running in the rain as it was just a few minutes after I came in and finished 2 bottles of water that it poured. It cleared up for a while and I got some coffee, and enjoyed the Taste of Ann Arbor--again leaving just before a torrential downpour.

Now, the laundry has been laundered, I worked on cleaning out my closet some more, the apartment vaccuumed, dishes put away, the canteloupe cut up for the week and now, it is time to curl up in the big chair in my jammies and read. I suspect, having been up at 5:45 this morning, an early bedtime is in store.

Mahalo.

The Not So Secret Cult of Mulchers

As has been the case since I started working my plot at the community garden, many, many peoples have come by and explained mulching to me. Apparently, my sitting there clearing weeds by hand was not something of the norm. But, as strange as it may be, I enjoy it and what's more, I don't care if I have to do it every week. Today in the garden was some more of the same with one guy coming over, eyeing my area suspiciously for my bale of straw and said, quite earnestly... you know, they are really big on mulch here. I looked up from my weeding, smiled and said... so I have gathered. And then, I learned a rather important lesson about what you should not even joke about in an organic community garden which is thus: NEVER joke about using Round Up. I do have to say, one guy came by and complimented me on my thorough weeding job. And I have to say, I'm a bit complusive about it. Now, now, I know that is hard to believe that I might get complusive about something... but since I am good at weeding and not so much the other aspects of the gardening scene... there you have it. Apparently, I am also a little crazy and now, in addition to my 4 tomato plants, I was compelled to buy and plant 5 more today. I have to stop buying plants just because I like the words in their names... Caspian, something Russian, PINK, etc... So you see, I HAD to buy the 4 pack of Pink Girl Tomatoes today.

And, if it wasn't enough that 4 different people came by to explain how I should be mulching, my dad called while I was in the garden and explained that I needed to get that cloth stuff for my garden--yet another form of mulch. We tabled the conversation for another time.

Mom warned me before I left out that there would be the paper mulchers before too long... and she was right. They were there today--Ann Arbor News scattered to hell and back. And I have to wonder... isn't there toxin in ink?

Where in the world is Blonde Energy?

Today finds me on the apex of having my garden completely planted. It is a momentous occasion. I find that my four lovely tomato plants while are not thriving, they are looking pretty damn good. It seems that my snap peas have sprouted and are happily awaiting a bunny to come and nibble away. I've cleared almost all the weeds out and will complete that and the planting today... possible even this morning still, if I can refrain from spilling more coffee on my laptop than what is getting into my system.

Let's see, other things that have happened this week... looks like my company is being acquired. Didn't I just go through that? This, however, will have a much different feel, I'm sure--what that is remains to be seen. Bottom line is that I am still moving to Philly this September.

The week, though a holiday made it only a 4-day work week, seemed oh so much longer. When you still put in 40 hours even on a 4-day week, well, that is what happens, I suppose. At one point on Friday, though, I did have the brilliant idea of suing Microsoft because Excel was making me cross-eyes and causing motion sickness. Not one of my most brilliant ideas, and probably not original when you consider how many people are fucking a spreadsheet on any given day at any given time. Which is, in my great and humble opinion, the real crime... I mean seriously, I've seen people get REAL excited over a pivot table and a line graph with 2 (that's right, biocth, count'em TWO) axises!!

It is time... that special time when I have to bid you all adieu for now and commence with an assortment of errands, drills and other maneuvers that will seek to astound and wreak its own special havoc on the world. In other words, I have to go buy groceries, cat food and gardening supplies... and follow it up with cleaning the lair.

Mahalo.