Insomnia

I'm about to faceplant into my keyboard. I don't know if it's that wacky hour change or what, but insomnia has set in for me this week and it's going to make me cry.

This morning I made it all the way to the subway station when I realized I still had my laundry with me and had to backtrack a block to drop it off. Making me late for work. Of course.

And now I'm having a hard time remembering how to spell my name. Which is why insomnia is never as good as I think it will be. In my mind it seems like a great chance to catch up on things. Since I can't sleep I might as well get work and chores done. But the lack of sleep makes me a moron so I really don't get much done. Well, I don't get much done right.

See, I'm babbling now. I think tonight I'm taking some dolls. No choice. And maybe digging out My Antonia. Don't care how many awards it's won, that puppy ALWAYS puts me to sleep. Or it did in high school...

I ROCK!!!

I won my office basketball pool because I am just that good. Oh yeah, you know it.

Go TARHEELS!!!!!

You bitches can just stop spending my money, 'cause it's all mine. Earned with my mad skillz. Oh yeah. I'm da' man.

i'm bored, you tire me

My super awesome David and Goliath Sticker a Day calendar today says, "i'm bored, you tire me." It makes me so happy. I'm telling everyone that today. And it pleases me. And only Lovely knows it's from the calendar. Maybe there is more to the, 'Amanda is the mean one' thing other than the fact that I don't giggle as much as Lovey.

Last night I had a lovely time with a friend and again managed to not have time to do some much needed cleaning. I think soon I will just embrace my grossness and move on.

Vader came over to visit while I packed and did my toes until a trip for cat food turned into a two hour dinner at an Italian place around the corner. Yummy fettuccine with artichoke hearts in a garlic cream sauce and a bottle of pinot grigio was way better than hanging in the grossness. Then Vader painted my toes. Because she is way too nice to me and caters entirely too much to my princess nature. Of course, she also tells me when I'm being a frightful whore so... As repayment I forced her to watch The Goonies DVD commentary while I packed. I believe she loved it as much as I do though she also shouted, "MY GOD can Corey Feldman not shut up for a single second?" as I do. UGH. So funny though. Martha Plimpton is one of my favorites on the commentary. The best is when she points out the fact that she's practically asleep in the background of the treasure finding scene. Hee. Love that movie. So glad the Octopus became a deleted scene, though.

Eventually she fled the grossness and I shaved my legs and got to bed. I HATE shaving my legs. I was in the shower bitching and moaning to myself and thinking about how lovely it would be to just pay someone to shave my legs for me. You know? How nice would that be? I know you can pay people to wax you, but I don't want the hairs ripped out of my leg. That would hurt. I don't want the pain. Plus I don't really have all that much body/leg hair anyway. And you have to grow it kinda long to get it ripped out and that's just icky to me. Do they have leg shaving services? Do you know?

Babble

Last night I had dinner with Muppet and Bambi since Bambi was in town on Spring Break. I hit some kind of wall last night around 5 and just wanted to go home and go to bed. But ended up having a nice night; sitting over diner food and coffee talking about all sorts of things, laughing a lot, lecturing a little and just catching up. I like those dinners. Where everyone gets to talk a lot and no topic is sacred and the next thing you know four hours have gone by. Though we did have to spend a few moments getting on my ass about finding another job. Which was uncomfortable. Because I have NO IDEA what I want to be when I grow up and I have no clue what to do about it. I look into things but it's all just uninspiring.

Tonight I'm packing, painting my toenails and catching up with Vader. Haven't seen her since the slumber party o' doom. Though she may just turn around and leave once she sees my apartment. Words can't describe the catbox and I think I might have a few unwashed dishes from the slumber party laying around. Because I have become the grossest woman alive. Fuck it. I don't care.

Speaking of gross, there was a very, very bad smelling man on the train today. I never know what to do in those situations. I got on and sorta smelled something bad but couldn't figure out who it was. I got a seat soon after and didn't really smell it much after that. But I noticed the woman across from me sorta trying to subtly bury her nose in her collar. And I wondered if maybe it was the guy next to her. And it was. Because at one point he decided to get up and stand and lean against the pole by me and OH MY GOD. The stench was so bad. And I really wanted to cover my face and gag. But that seemed so rude. Who knows why he smells. Maybe it's something he can't help. He seemed nice enough. For a New Yorker on a subway car. But ugh. I suddenly had a lot more sympathy for the uncomfortable looks the woman across the way had on her face earlier. Finally I just faced away from him and hoped he'd get off soon. Which he did.

My rock star life.

Speaking of rock stars... sorta. 3 Doors Down was rowdy on a plane to Cairns last and kept my Daddy from sleeping on his break. Bad, bad band. Keeping the pilot sleepy.

I'm now talking with PimpDaddy about how he's never actually sold me and kinda sucks as a Pimp. But he's the only Pimp for me - as I told BigD earlier today. Maybe I should give PimpDaddy access to post here so he can blog up some support for our little ho empire. And give my father a heart attack in the process. Hmmmmmm...

Juxtaposition

I dug out some art supplies today. And it was so nice to see them again. I miss sitting around with paint and markers and crayons and pencils and just being goofy. I even have finger paint still.

But it was a bit odd, having to pull my finger paints and crayons out from behind the porn.

Diversify my ass why don'cha?

I suffer through over three hours of diversity training at work and then get harassed by some offensive fucknuts on the corner as I'm walking to Staples. Shitty, shitty afternoon.

My god. Diversity Training. Oh, I'm sorry, "Navigating Differences in the Workforce." Such crap. Such total crap. Three hours of watching actors act out very obvious scenes, listening to the bullshit my idiotic coworkers feel about issues of race, gender, ethnicity, religion, family and orientation and knowing that none of this makes a difference and this will still be a white American male dominated industry for years to come. You can say it's inappropriate to be abusive and offensive to your coworkers, but we all know that as long as you give the impression of bringing in money and clients you can treat people however you damn well like.

That was actually the one nice moment. Someone basically called management and HR out as being ineffective. One HR representative tried to say that there were meetings and reprimandings we didn't know about but the facilitator called her out on it, saying that those meetings may happen but something is wrong if people all still perceive them as ineffective.

It was just so pointless. And offensive. One jackass kept telling people not to "play the victim", when he's a huge offender himself. Very offensive and rude and abusive and inappropriate. I wanted to make his face a victim to my foot. And one women decided it was a good idea to say that women are too sensitive and defensive to perceived inequalities in the workplace. She needs some attention from my foot as well. And everyone seemed to think it wasn't a big deal to tell a woman to be more charming in the workplace. Charming is a fine word. Yes. But how the hell many times does a man get told he needs to be charming to get ahead compared with a woman. ARGH!!!!! And one skit was so obviously BEGGING the audience to bring of the stereotype of the Angry Black Man it made me want to cry. No one would do it or address it or acknowledge it's affect. And it was so clumsy and inefficient. And folks were actually trying to say that someone with an accent and little grasp of idiom for whom English was a second language should possibly be held back in our industry because they "can't communicate". Despite the fact they they're smart, articulate and able to speak English well. And despite the fact that one of our most popular economists (in the US as well as in Asia) is a Chinese man with a strong Chinese accent for whom English is not his first language and whose verbal communication skills are not the same as our American analysts (though not better or worse, just different).

Such crap. It was three hours of folks talking out their asses for no real purpose. No one learned anything. One of the folks in my group, who is quite sexist, came out of an earlier session saying it was good, but not necessary for him. So anyone who needs work (well, everyone needs work, but anyone who REALLY needs work) comes out of it feeling as smug and entitled as before and nothing changes. It's just the same old abusive, sexist, racist environment as before, where it's safer to be closeted than not.

HATE this place. HATE corporate America. Want to go home and hide.

Instead, I am going to the Opera to hear folks sing about a consumptive hooker. Hopefully that'll perk me up.

Wanna go, pretty boy?

So, it looks like I stand a good chance of winning the office March Madness pool. Heh. How odd is that. I make my picks based on family/friend loyalty and my leftover childhood love (ask me about Tarheel soda some day) of the Tarheels. So, let's all keep our fingers crossed for UNC to win it all. Mama needs a new pair o' shoes.

So, my Easter Weekend was lovely. Friday I went over to Monkey Man's place for hockey day. He'd sent around an article a week or two ago about Youngblood and Lovey and I decided we should spend a few hours watching hockey movies. Apparently we're mostly (but not entirely) alone in thinking this is a fun thing.

First, though, I had a fabulous lunch with Charlotte, catching up and chatting. And then I headed out to Roosevelt Island for Hockey Day. Monkey Man's roommate demanded we all wear jerseys so I brought one that a college friend had given me. I'm not a hockey fan but I have a jersey, of course. While waiting for everyone to gather we caught the tail end of Love Actually. Because Monkey Man and his roomie are a bunch of girls. And Lovey loves the movie. There was some debate about the fabulousness of Colin Firth. Monkey Man and his roomie think it's ONLY the accent but we disagree. He's got some other sexiness going on too. But we did agree Alan Rickman's sexiness is almost totally the voice and accent.

So, we settled down for Youngblood. So very bad, but so amusing. Rob Lowe takes off his pants and that was excellent. He's so very, very pretty. And there is the "Wanna go, pretty boy?" line, the learning to fight montage, Keanu Reeves just being tragic and Patrick Swayze's very neon apartment. Plus some thing with dentures. And tea with Miss McGill. And such And the first of many appearances of the word "candyass" I'm hoping to use that frequently in the future. Brace yourselves.

After that I was somehow convince to wear hockey pads under my jersey and Lovey and I were both forced to make mouthguards for ourselves along with Monkey Man. You apparently boil them for 35 seconds or so and then pop them in your mouth, sucking out all the water and air to meld them to your teeth. So odd. And not the most comfortable thing in the world. And yet Monkey Man made us wear them most of the rest of the afternoon. Along with helmets. I don't know why we went along with this. Seemed "fun" at the time. But yeah, crazy Monkey Man would actually SCOLD US if he saw our mouth guards somewhere other than our mouths. VERY strange man.

We started Slapshot and that's about when Iolanthe showed up. Apparently she almost fled at the site of us in full gear. But stuck it out. Brave girl that she is. Though she totally wussed out and wouldn't make a mouth guard, candyass. Lovey is thinking of sending her the one she made. So she won't feel too left out and all.

Slapshot wasn't bad. Better than Youngblood. Though kind of the same movie in some respects. With identical themes of talented pretty boy hockey players who won't fight and who show their asses at some point in the movie. But, and I hope I don't ruin anything for you, Rob Lowe does learn to fight (with the help of a Montage!) and Michael Ontkean flat out refuses all the way to the end. Unless you count punching your own teammate which I don't.

Eventually we lost Lovey, gained another roommate (lost the first one during Youngblood) and settled in for Mystery, Alaska. Until Iolanthe decided she wanted to watch the good hockey movie rather than a bad one. And we switched to Miracle, which I've seen and really like. We did get to watch the Mike Myers cameo - billed as the best part of the movie. As bad as that was, I'm kind of okay with the choice to NOT watch that flick.

Now, Miracle is based on the 1980 US Olympic hockey team. It's a true story. With an outcome that was huge news. Yet Iolanthe kept insisting we not tell her the ending. Because she's a nutcase. In fact, she got cranky and informed us that in Turner & Hooch? The dog dies. How mean is she? What if I wanted to see that one day?!?! At least I got to lose the pads, mouth guard and helmet by then.

It was fun. Really. There was pizza and dill dip and veggies and everything.

Saturday night I headed out with Iolanthe again to see this a cappella group she stalks, the ExBoyfriends. She's invited me to their gigs before but I hadn't realized the extent of her obsession with them until this weekend. She goes to all their shows and loves them unconditionally. One of them is even an actual exboyfriend of hers. She thinks they're all super guys and musical geniuses. She's a groupie. And she's not alone. Luckily they (and their Swedish opening act) were very good. So I only found her mildly crazy instead of delusional or something. Maybe more than mildly crazy. She did hit me a LOT for mocking her groupiehood and for my comment that a cappella has a touch of the geeky about it. I like it. I have lots of friends who love it and who do it. And they're fabulous. But it's a smidge geeky. It's just the nature of the genre or performance style or whatever. C'mon. Y'all know it's true.

And then we crashed someone's 30th Birthday Party and chatted with various ExBoyfriends and their rabid fans. All of whom seem to have some connection to Binghamton University. It seemed a little cult-like. I don't know. Iolanthe was fun and I got to chat about Arrested Development with some folks and had a good time.

Sunday night I got all fetal on my couch with a killer headache. Not so much the good time. Ah well. My punishment for not making the weekend about the lord I guess.

SPAM!!!!

I just won a ticket for the matinee of Spamalot in an office contest. My boss says I MUST go. So, while y'all are sitting at work dozing at your desks in a post-lunch daze I'll be enjoying the brilliance of Monty Python, Tim Curry, David Hyde Pierce and assorted others. You want my rock star life. Don't lie.

And I always thought my bad taste came from Dad...

I just wanted to share with you all that my Mom watched Spring Break Shark Attack last night. Hee hee hee. I did not. Hee.

Oh, wait. Maybe this is my fault. I made her watch New York Minute and she's just going downhill from there...

This weekend at a birthday dinner Breakfast at Tiffany's came up and I said I loved that movie. And Lovey was shocked. Because being all open about my love of trashy film and television has led some people to believe that I only like trash. Very upsetting. I may have to go closeted with my love of Silk Stalkings and the like.

New Reading Buddy

I have a new reading buddy. Met her today. She's darling. She shook my hand when I introduced myself and we chatted for a while. She's in 4th grade but everyone tells her she looks like she's in 6th because she's so tall. She'll be 10 later this month. She has two older brothers who are twins. And she has a dog who is a year older than she is. She's never been in a plane but hopes to go to see where her parents are from (Guatemala) soon. And then she asked me to tell her about myself. So cute. We read a book called Pinky Promise. Then, because she has a new classmate from Egypt, we looked at a book with pictures of Pyramids and Sphinx and things. We discussed languages and Japanese and she told me she knew Konichiwa. I taught her sensei and buta (we both like pigs). We then started a book that had a feminist tilt and so we talked about the women's suffrage movement. And then time was up. I LOVE HER. She's so cool. Yay!

So, since I have yet to write the Vegas Opus I'm leaving you with a story my mother recently uncovered while working on her archiving project. It's something I wrote when I was about 10 or 11. Revel in the dorkatude.

A SELLER OF DREAMS

"Dreams for sale. Dreams for sale. All different kinds of dreams for sale," called the seller of dreams.
Slowly a young boy approaches him and asks, "What kinds of dreams do you have to sell?"
"I have blue ones, orange ones, pink ones, scary ones, nice ones, beautiful ones, ugly ones. I have some from faraway places and some with all different faces."
The boy looks at the big covered wagon behind the seller of dreams as he asks, "May I buy one?"
"Of course. I think you might like a blue one. It's colored all in blue and very pleasant, too."
"I don't want a blue pleasant one," states the boy quietly. "I want one of a faraway place. Far past the earth, and the sun, and the stars. Way far away."
"Ah, you show more sense than the other ones coming to ask for dreams of the future. I have the perfect dream for you. It's of a place faraway. I've never been there before, but I've dreams of it often. It's called Laog. It's a fantastic place with crystal clear sparkling waterfalls and deep blue lakes. The fruit trees are the best anywhere," he said.
"Doesn't it have adventure and excitement at all? Any mysteries or problems?" questioned the boy.
"Yes, definitely. They're always different. Once a beautiful but mean girl was kidnapped, and I was to save her. She came close to death, but the worst part was I had to marry her. The adventure was lots of fun, though," the seller exclaimed.
"Describe what the place is like some more," said the child.
"It has white horses and silver stables. Great green grapevines to swing on. My favorite place is under a large apple tree in front of a lovely lake with a waterfall. The spray of the waterfall is so soft falling on your face. It's gorgeous!" described the seller.
"How much does it cost?" asked the little boy excitedly.
"Only a low amount of fifty dollars," said the seller.
The look on the face of the boy when he said he didn't have enough money stayed imprinted in the seller's mind. Even his most pleasant dream couldn't help. Slowly he got out of bed.
The boy, after a bad day, finally got to sleep. He had awful nightmares half the night, but at about three o'clock he started a pleasant sweet dream of white horses and silver stables. Of great green swinging grapevines and best of all an apple tree in front of a crystal waterfall.
When the boy woke up he realized he had gotten something special. He had received a gift from the seller of dreams.

Freaky Fetish

So, last night I was catching up on some TiVo and watched The Daily Show episode with the Rock. They showed a clip from Be Cool where he does a 'monologue' from Bring it On (the greatest movie of 2000). It got me kinda hot. WHAT IS WRONG WITH ME!?!?!?

Bitch Magazine (which I love) is having an online auction of fabulous Feminist stuff. You should check it out.

And one day I will finish the Vegas entry. Honest.

Glamorous Life

So, this morning I almost plowed into Joan Collins on my way to work. I came out of my subway entrance and some woman chattering into a cell phone with a fur coat and ridiculous earmuffs cut me off on her way to a big black SUV. Weaving to avoid her caused me to almost run into a tiny woman in a fur coat and very high heels. Very high heels on an icy, slushy sidewalk - probably explaining why she was practically being carried by the tall man next to her. As I was swearing and narrowly avoiding running her over I noticed who it was. Heh. She looked really cute though. Lovey asked me if she looked plastic and I didn't think so at all. Though the hair didn't look too real.

In other news, I'm having a slumber party this weekend and a friend of mine wrote a lovely article complete with instructions. Going by his instructions, it looks like I have a lot of work between now and Friday. Anyone know any girls basketball teams?

Back Home. Sorta

Well, Vegas was a disaster. It rained the whole time. Pumpkin, Muffy and I are no longer speaking to each other. Muffy and I are never allowed to fly Delta Song again. None of us are allowed at the Luxor and half a dozen other casinos in Vegas. I lost my life savings and I think my two cats at the craps tables and I think I lost Muffy's apartment in a bad spurt at the Races. And worst of all, my stripper fake boyfriend Matthew got married and quit Thunder from Down Under. I am never going to Vegas again.

Yeah, right. It was awesome. Had a blast. We've already started discussing what we'll do for Vegas 2006. Details to come sometime in the next week.

Highlights (in no particular order):
Matthew danced on our table, I sat in his lap and I squeezed his thigh.
Borg Invasion followed by Klingon something or other followed by a Borg Sphere.
Pretty Bellagio Fountains.
Yummy Dinner at Circo.
O.
Jacuzzi.
Winning $50 at Keno brunch.
Velour Track Suit Spotting.
Building Drinks.
Drunk dialing to find out the name & order of presidents after Kennedy as well as the meaning of the word parallax.
Pretty Bellagio Fountains.
Disco Pony AND Talking Rooster.
Las Vegas mood rings.
Champagne Brunch.
Monorail! Monorail! Monorail!
Hiking in the Mountains (no, not really).
The curved escalators at the Forum Shops (Muffy's favorite thing in Vegas).
Kicking ass on the Delta Song Trivia game on the flight to Vegas.

Now, let's just pray I can get through this day at work, get home and sleep, and finally be human again. And able to remember what happened this weekend.

FAKE

So, I've been trying out lots of fake meats lately. I figure it's time to sorta get into this vegetarian thing. Maybe.

I don't eat meat. For the most part. I have exceptions. Like, being in the state of Louisiana. I gotta have my muffuletas (especially from Central Grocery) and Natchitoches meat pies. I'm weak, what can I say. And I'm not a vegetarian because I think meat is murder really; though I do have issues with things like veal. I understand the concept of the food chain. But around the time I turned sixteen I started to realize that I often felt uncomfortable eating meat. I'd be eating a burger and mid way through start thinking about cows and I wouldn't be able to finish. So, I decided to pretty much give it up. Seemed easier. And aside from Bacon Double Cheeseburgers, Muffuletas, Natchitoches Meat Pies and the situational (Coney Island, ball games) hot dogs I don't miss meat at all.

But I'm not so good at the typical vegetarian thing. I hate tofu and only like eggplant if it's chopped up and with lots of other things. Or else slathered in breading and mozzarella. I'm not a fan of veggie sandwiches because they always have more zucchini and squash than anything else and I hate zucchini and only like squash if it's well prepared (not grilled until mushy). I used to like Portobello sandwiches until they started becoming the only vegetarian option at half the restaurants in the country. And then I quickly grew to loathe them. So, while I try not to be a pain to go out to dinner with, I fear I kind of am. I know that my friends don't always get to go to the exact restaurant they want because of me. Because they are kind and good. And I am picky and evil.

Anyway, lately I've been trying to get into the fake meat thing. I love Gimme Lean and can make all the sausage balls I want with them (another on the list of things I miss as a vegetarian). And I'm kinda digging on the veggie pepperoni (on pizza not on it's on). And veggie salami works for me. But today I tried fake bacon. And it's vile. Don't like it at all. Won't be trying it again. Ew.

I *heart* ass kicking

Monkey Man and I went to see Ong-Bak last night and I totally loved it. Tony Jaa is a thing of beauty. And I'm considering going into therapy to find out why I find blood and violence so hot. 'Cause that's weird, right?

The Mighty Pucks

I cannot tell you how happy this makes me. And I can't tell you why it makes me happy. But it does. Heh.

Anyone know a good place to play Air Hockey in Manhattan?

A touch of the OCD

I'm rather disappointed in myself today. While my bra and underwear match each other, they don't exactly match my outfit. And since my top has a plunging neckline I notice the lack of matching every time I look down. It's disconcerting for me. See, when I got dressed I thought I was going to wear the pink, red & black top. So I went with the red bra & underwear. Which works well with that top. But then at the last minute I decided I wasn't really feeling the red, pink & black top and noticed the blue top was clean. So I opted for that. But I always wear the dark blue bra with the snowflakes when I wear the blue top. So that it doesn't distract me when I look down and if the top opens a little (it's a wrap top style) you don't really notice the bra initially. But with a bright red bra, if the top ends up shifting or something it just screams, "HI, I'M AMANDA'S BRA!!! LOOK AT HER BOOBS!!!!" And while I feel that if I have to clothe, clean, care for and lug around these suckers they should certainly be looked at; well, I don't want them really screaming at people at work. You know? Plus, the whole not matching is making me twitchy. The purse is red, black and white too. I'm a mess. I should just go home. I'm not even wearing the right necklace for this top. ARGH.

You know, you'd think from all the fuss I make with this stuff I'd look more put together and pretty. But I don't. It's all for my inner peace and harmony and not my outward appearance it seems.

When Mom Comes to Town

A friendly update: Today's Global Vegetarian Bar at the International Table is...

Ireland.

Uh-huh. Turnips and Chive Champs and Veggie Irish Stew and Cabbage. I have no words. The French mocked me less for being a vegetarian than the Irish. Whatever.

So, Mom came to town for over a week and we had a lovely time. No fighting. Maybe a little minor snapping, but no fighting. Which was excellent. We love each other and we really like each other too. But for some reason we tend to fight a lot when spending several days in almost constant company. Because I believe myself to be nearly perfect I like to pretend that it is mostly her fault. But, obviously it's just as much mine. And probably most of it is because we're strong personalities who believe we're perfect and are also people who mostly live alone (she has the husband and I have the frequent houseguests) and thus don't have to share space too often. Who knows. This visit we behaved beautifully and had a nice time together. Except when I broke her and then she broke me. With the rich food eating and late night partying.

Thursday was mellow. And then Friday I took her out on date night with Muffy & Steph. But first dragged her into Manhattan for lunch with Rock Star Fran and some coworkers for RSF's farewell lunch before her whirlwind European tour. Both events were lovely but, the combination of a rich lunch, a rich dinner, late night lattes, too much recent plane travel (she got home from a Norwegian Cruise less than a week before she left to come to New York) and a very late night all conspired to make her tummy VERY unhappy Saturday morning. So, I spent the morning & early afternoon putzing and wishing I could do more while she spent it alternating between napping and feeling like the devil. Poor Mommy. She wouldn't let me hold her hair or get her a cool cloth or anything. Because I think Mommies are just that way or something. She DID let me go out and get her saltines and 7up though. I think she mostly did that so I would stop annoying her with my need to do something for her. Not sure. So, we mostly stayed in that weekend. Which was nice. Lots of TV watching, doing little chores here and there, reading, napping, playing with the kitties and shopping for Valentine's Day cards for that always awesome Daddy o'Mine.

Monday was Jake's night. Mom loves their cornbread and brisket and mac & cheese and such (even though she apparently did not learn her lesson from Friday night no one got sick from our feeding extravaganza). I introduced her to the show Everwood that night over brisket. Which she loved. And may start watching. Though we did start to fight over one of the way too young stars of the show and that can't be healthy. Can it?

Tuesday was TARCON6. Which was excellent. Vader and Taylor joined us for the fun. We grabbed dinner at Galaxy Diner just in case the food situation was as miserable as it was last season. And then headed to MSG.

I do love The Amazing Race. I think it's a phenomenal show and my favorite reality show ever, even if I don't agree with some of the changes they've made to it recently. But I do find it kind of odd to fawn over reality show stars. And can't really get all that excited about meeting them. You know? And despite the fact that I am a total dork in my own right, I do sometimes find myself sucked into thinking about the cliche of a bunch of folks obsessing over a reality show in an online forum. A lot of them are fabulous people (though, as in any situation with a large number of people, a lot of them are not). The recapper for the show is brilliant as are most of the people associated with Television Without Pity. But stepping back and looking at it in a general way, it's one of the more dorky things out there. Which is my way of trying to nicely say that my favorite part of TARCon is watching all the nuttier folks at the event get smashed and slobber on the racers. I'm a bad, bad person. And I love to people watch. And I'm petty and snarky and evil. So, this kind of event is so perfect for me.

The party started out with all of us watching the finale, and that's almost as much fun as the people watching. Free beers and a few hundred people who love the show hanging out in a bar laughing and moaning and booing and having fun. It's really pretty cool. And it was nice having a few hundred people booing along with me at the bad outcome of the race when the annoying team barely squeaked by the awesome team. It made the episode a little less fun than it would have been otherwise. Because I loved it aside from the ending. They went to Hawai'i and stayed there for a while. Long enough for Mom and I to identify every place they went, babble about all the times we'd been to such and such a place and cackle like freaks when one of the contestants was unable to pronounce Kalakaua. Because we're weird.

Then Mom and Taylor went out for a smoke (Taylor to smoke and Mom to long for the days of smoking). Vader and I stayed to drink more. Our foursome actually ended up working really well. Vader and I wandered out to the entrance area to do what we did last season, which was sit around mocking everyone and having fun. But quietly. To ourselves. So no one else could hear us. Because while I'm mean, I don't want to actually hurt anyone's feelings. I don't think. Not like that. We also kept waiting for Mom and Taylor to return. Eventually we realized they had and were in the receiving line waiting for the racers. So we wished them well, got them drinks and then hit the bar to avoid the massive crowds and drink ourselves silly. We learned last season that if you sit by the bar, most of the racers will eventually end up standing next to you anyway. That's how we got a former winner's picture with Ed's Shirt. Heh.

We did get to see a lot of racers. Particularly this one guy, Aaron. Vader got her photo taken with him while I was in the bathroom. And I can't blame her. He's gorgeous. Seriously. He kept catching me staring at him as I was planning our wedding together in my mind. Because the man is just painfully pretty. And I am so, so shallow when it comes to boys. Well, I like smart boys too. A smart boy who is ridiculously pretty could pretty much make me his bitch for life. I'm so sad. Anyway. Met him briefly. Took some photos of Taylor with last season's winners Chip & Kim and this season's third place team, Adam and Rebecca. Chatted with Rebecca's dad and drank a lot. And watched my Mom have as much fun people watching as I do. She wandered all over taking photos of racers, goggling at the strangeness and having a blast. I love the families of the teams. They just kinda stand there wondering what the hell all these people are freaking out over. My family would be that way. "This is just Amanda. Really. No need to make a fuss over her. We like her, but we have to as she's family. She's really just a big doof. No, you don't need to buy her a drink. Really. Do NOT encourage the ego."

I did get a little excited about the favorite team of the race, Kris & Jon. They played beautifully for the most part and behaved really well and I was definitely rooting for them. But I had nothing to say to them beyond, "Great Race, Loved You!" So I just took Vader's picture with them and made faces at the the crazy drunk people pushing her out of the way so they could fawn. Heh. Crazy drunk people. Taylor abandoned us at some point and finally Vader, Mom and I had enough and decided to head out as well. And I got Mom home after 3AM. Because I'm a bad daughter and keep my Mom out to all hours all the time. I hope her cardiologist doesn't find out. Heh. Though she is apparently the model heart patient and probably has a healthier heart than me at this point.

Anyway, it was a good time and I'm so glad Mom was there for it. Now if only we can get Dad out here for TARCON7.

Wednesday I called in sick and was hungover and tired most of the day. So I napped and Mom putzed and we watched TV and were a little sluglike. Though I think Mom went out for a walk at one point.

Thursday I took mom to see a dance performance of the company that Muppet works with. Parts of it were interesting, but I did not love it. I've seen this company do stuff with flour that I liked and I didn't like the flour so much in this one. And I didn't love the pacing either. But two of the dancers spent half their time tied together at the hair and parts of their dance I really found interesting. Mom did not hate it, but said she wouldn't see it again. And there you have my lovely review. Why am I not a dance critic? I do not understand.

Friday was home in the comfy pants eating risotto and mozzarella sandwiches. Awesome time. Though when I made Mom watch The Road to Stardom with Missy Elliot (awesome show) she did a rap that still kinda gives me nightmares.

Saturday I had to go to a Board Meeting of Doom at Wesleyan. Mom opted to stay home. I was bummed as I wanted more time to hang with her. But I think she made the right choice. We got the car an hour and a half late as they didn't have one for us at time. Then we ran into a fuel spill and Steph had to do some mad creative driving which involved exiting an on ramp. But it all worked out and we made it in time for the meeting. Barely.

The meeting was okay and we had some fun times catching up with people. And Charlotte, Muffy & Steph are lovely folks to have around for a roadtrip. But Mom would've been bored for most of the day.

Saturday night was Ocean's 11 and Thai Food at Muffy & Steph's. Though first Mom had us watch the video from her Norway trip, kind of against my will. I am a shitty daughter. The video was okay, but I think I liked the way the photos turned out better. I got more of a sense of the pretty in the photos than in the video. Though I guess we saw more of the ship in the video. Anyway, Muffy liked that and Mom was glad I got to see it. And then I was allowed to drool over Brad Pitt for a couple of hours and all was right with the world.

Sunday I sent Mom packing and then spent the day napping like a slug.

This is how the girls in my family party. I know you're jealous. Our rock star lives.

The Music always gets me

A couple of weeks ago I went to a Memorial Service. It was for a coworker's sister. I never knew her and the coworker and I aren't very close. But he's a nice guy and we talk often for work. We got an email notice about the service and Sheena, Lovey and I figured we should go. To give support and pay our respects. It's one of those things that takes hardly any effort or time and seems so meaningful. So, we went.

I've been blessed as I haven't been to many memorial services or funerals in my life. I just haven't lost that many people. Which is good. Because living is better than dying. But it's also good, as I don't do such events well. I get too emotional, I think. I feel like I should have better control of myself. And that I should be more supportive and attentive. It seems like a time to gather to support each other and remember the person you all just lost. But mostly I just cry and wish for the person back. Which I can easily do in my room without bothering anyone else.

I thought I could handle this recent service as I was not so closely touched by this person. I was barely touched at all by her. I just knew her brother and heard about her from him after her death. And I did fine at the service, really. But it affected me more than I thought it would.

The speeches were nice, the service was lovely. And it was both sad and heartening. I'd recently learned how much she meant to her brother. And it seemed like she was an amazing person. So it was hard to think about how all of these people were now mourning her. But there was definitely a sense throughout that she touched a lot of lives and did a lot of wonderful things and that most of these people were better for having her be a part of them. It was so good to feel that.

But then the music made it personal. Lovey was sitting/standing next to me and lent her lovely voice to the hymns. And made them so much more than the dirge like tunes I remembered from my time in the Presbyterian Church. And it made me smile and made me a little emotional to hear her. But mostly the music filled me with memories. And made me long for my family and my grandparents. I remembered sitting in Church with my grandfather. Singing hymns with the family. I remembered songs my grandmother would sing to me. And I remembered all their memorial services. And I cried. Like I try so hard not to do.

Initially I was angry with myself. For making someone else's service about me. But then I realized that was silly. It's all part of the same thing. I was mourning my loved ones again and at the same time learning about someone else and at the same time supporting and feeling for a really nice person I am lucky enough to know. And doing all that together is a fine thing. And so I went with it.

At one point they played a song. I'm not sure which one. A piece by Handel I think. And it made me think of my mother and just broke my heart a little. And I'm not really sure why. It reminded me of a part of a book I like by an author I love. Towards the end of the book a grandmother spends some time each day playing with her young grandson. They don't do much. Just the kind of playtime you have with babies. But she would play music during their time together. Particularly one piece. And not too long after these play dates start, the grandmother dies. And the grandson grows up never really knowing her. Later, at the end of the book, he's at an event of some kind. A service or wedding or something. And that one particular song plays. And he just starts crying. He just feels something in him and he cries because of it. And I loved that. The idea that he did somehow know his grandmother, not in any conscious way. But somehow he was connected to her.

I like to think of connections like that. I can't describe them, even to myself. But I can feel them. And I like that they're there. I like that I can see things or hear things or sense things and for no explicable reason I suddenly think of someone I love. Or feel something emotional and strong and alive. And I like that Music does that for me more than anything else.

Mac & Cheese Nation

In the cafeteria at my office building we have all kinds of little stations. The Grill. The Smokehouse. The Mexican* station. The Indian* station. Sandwiches, pizza, stir fry and so on. We also have The International Table. And on Wednesdays the International Table is the Global Vegetarian Table. But today is Tuesday so that fact is not important. Just know that my office building's cafeteria is odd.

Anyway, the International Table has four steam tables (go Sterno!) and a little space for some cold dishes. Each day they pick a nation (or just some food group based loosely on geography) and that's the theme for the food at the International Table that day. Italian, Chinese and "Southern" are frequent nations. As is "Comfort Food" and "Wing Bar". I don't want to know what the Wing Bar Nation is, but I could totally get behind a Mac & Cheese Nation. Though I can't even imagine what the size of my behind would be were I to live in that Nation.

The point of all of this is that today was Hawaii Nation Day. Any of you who went to college with me and managed to visit the campus center on Hawaiian Pizza day might know what's coming. Because there is really nothing Hawai'ian about pizza with Canadian Bacon and pineapple on it. Maybe I could buy it with Spam and Li Hing Mui, but, whatever. It's just stupid and annoying and I would bitch loudly when confronted with it at the campus center. (Yeah, I know, I lived in Hawai'i for about two years and am no local nor expert but I don't care. It still annoys me. And this is my blog.)

So, today's International Table of Hawaii had candied yams. Which I had a lot more of in Louisiana, North Carolina and Indiana than in Hawai'i. Also present was baked Hawaiian Fish. Yes, Hawaiian Fish. I do not know what that means. Maybe they found some Humuhumu nukunuku apua'a (unofficial state fish - and does Hawai'i really have a state marine mammal or is the internet lying to me again?) and baked that up with coconut sauce. I do not know. It made me snort derisively. As did the eggplant with ginger (which really looked like their basic overbaked eggplant dish). Again, I don't know. It was all just silly. As most of the International Bar is. They did have Mango Chutney. I do see lots of Mango Chutney when I'm back in Honolulu. So that was nice. But still... it was silly. Anyway, I hope you've enjoyed this little peek into my madness. Because it's not like anything else is going on in the world that I might want to get upset about. Really. A nice Hawaii Nation International Bar of macaroni salad, kim chee, spam musubi, mochi and two scoop rice would totally make me forget about the painful war in Iraq, the madman running our country, the ongoing attack on my vagina and the rights I have to it (with it?), the state of our educational system, the devastation of tidal waves and so on. Well, maybe not. But I guess it would mean I could focus on those things and spend more time being useful and less time whining about my office cafeteria.

I am so shallow and useless. I'm going to read more about shoes now. I bet there's no war in Mac & Cheese Nation.


*Yes, sometimes they do have Indian and Mexican at the International Table even though those nations have a permanent station in our cafeteria.