crazy as a bed bug

Fun on the Bus (NOT)

2009-12-30T09:59:00.005-05:00

WINTER
a) Just because I live in Virginia now and not Vermont or New York does NOT mean that winter isn't cold. As Marla (my sister-in-law) would say, it's "frick-fracking" cold! Waiting for the bus in the very cold, very windy, weather is extremely annoying. And did I mention cold? And windy? When I was a little girl, my mom wouldn't let me or my brother cross the street if it was too windy outside, and now I have to do it at least four times a day- eight times on Mondays! And then I get to wait... and wait... and wait for the bus.
b) Which brings me to the punctuality (or lack thereof) of the bus I take. I have to get out to my bus stop every morning at least ten, preferably fifteen, minutes before it comes, because I never know whether the driver will be an over-achiever (read: way too early) or a procrastinator (read: LATE!). The bus schedule isn't really a schedule, it's more of a guideline, or a suggestion. Kind of like the Pirate's Code in "Pirates of the Caribbean." So inevitably, I end up waiting for a long time on the side of a busy street in Northern Virginia, watching the cars drive past.
c) Cars driving past in the cold, windy weather: First of all, they create more wind, which does not make Britten a happy girl at 7:00AM. Second of all, I hate everyone who has a nice warm car, even if it's covered in rust and the window is really a plastic bag taped to the side of the car. They're still warmer than me.
d) People driving the cars STARE at me as they drive past, like I'm some sort of freakish exhibit in the zoo or museum. "And on our right, we have a wonderful, 21st century example of public transportation. You can tell the time period by the style of hat, coat, scarf, and gloves the young woman is wearing as she waits for her transportation to show up." STOP STARING AT ME!!!!!!!

I will continue to post additions to my pet peeves about the bus as they come to me.

Pray for Kristen

2009-11-14T13:15:00.000-05:00

Because my sister-in-law, Marla, has been a part of my life ever since I turned 14, I have always considered her, and her wonderful family, a part of my own. Ever since moving in with her and my brother over two years ago, I have been lucky enough to get to know her family even better. I've spent time with her mom, her Aunt Julie, her sisters and brother, and I love them as much as I love my own family.
That's why this awful news about her cousin, Kristen Grindly, has hit me so hard. On November 11, 2009, Kristen was found on the side of the road in out in Washington. Her injuries are severe, and she's laying in a coma right now in the hospital. I can't really say too much about what's going on, since it's obviously become a major news story, but I just wanted to write that we are all praying for a miracle, and praying that whoever did this gets put in jail for a very long time. Please send your own thoughts and prayers out for poor Kristen, and for the Grindly family.

Metro system derails Britten

2009-09-07T14:18:00.002-04:00

So yesterday I worked until 3pm. My brother gave me a ride to work, which was awesome of him to do. When I got out of work, I went to get on the metro- I work at Pentagon City Mall, so the metro is really super convenient for me. First I went outside to have a cigarette, then crossed over to enter the metro from outside the mall. The escalators were closed. Hmm, I thought. Well, no matter- I'll just go back into the mall to get into the metro from that entrance. By the way- I worked yesterday on a sprained ankle, so by this point in the day, it was pretty much throbbing from walking around VS all afternoon.
So I go back into the mall, go downstairs to the metro entrance there, and it's closed too. Now I'm getting irritated.
I go back outside, cross the road to the other entrance, and surprise surprise- closed. It's so hot out, and I'm wearing my all-black VS clothes. There are two guys wearing bright metro clothes, so I ask them what's going on. They inform me that (obviously) Pentagon City Metro is closed, and I have to take a shuttle bus to the Pentagon, where I can proceed home. Okay. Not too awful, I think to myself. Just one stop out of my way.
So I get on the shuttle, get off at the Pentagon, go down into the depths of the metro, and wait for the yellow line to come so I can just get home and put my foot up and ice my ankle.
A train comes. It's going in the wrong direction, so I'm confused. A metro worker walks by, so I ask him when the train to Huntington will be coming. He informs me that the train is not running, and there is a shuttle bus outside that will take me to where I need to go.
I limp back upstairs and outside to the buses. A sign tells me I have to go to the lower level to get to the shuttle bus. The escalators are not working.
I limp down the stairs. A sign tells me that I have to go to the L-5 spot to get on the shuttle to take me to Braddock road, where I will finally be able to get on the train.
So I wait at L-5, take a swig of my water, read a little bit of my Jane Austen book, and suddenly wonder why it is that the buses are stopping at L-4 and L-6, but not L-5. I limp over to another worker, who illuminates the situation by telling me that I should have been at L-6 the whole time, and to hurry up and get on the bus before it leaves.
Finally, I sit on the bus, blessing the air conditioning.
We get to Braddock, and I get off and enter the metro station. An attendant is just waving everyone through the gate, not making us swipe our cards, so I go up and sit down at the platform to wait for the yellow line train to come. Naturally, the blue line comes first, and I contemplate taking that to Franconia-Springfield, but it's a little more out of the way for my brother to pick me up from, so, being considerate, I wait for the yellow line. When it comes, I call him to let him know I'll be at Huntington- finally- in a few minutes. He insists on speaking Spanish to me, and I contemplate strangling him over the phone. Due to technical details, that wouldn't work, so I simply say "Thank you."
I get on the train and sprawl out across two seats and try to elevate my poor ankle. Doesn't really work.
Three stops, then I'm there, I tell myself. The first stop is King Street. People get off the train, people get off the train, the doors close, the train starts moving, then stops. Just kidding! Hahaha. We wait at King Street for five minutes to get authorization to keep moving.
Eventually, we get to Huntington, where the escalators are again not working, and I limp down the fifty steps. I swipe my metro card and it tells me to see the station manager, who tells me I was supposed to swipe my card at Braddock (you remember how they just waved us through the gate? They were not supposed to do that.) So the manager swipes my card on one side, so I can do that again on the other, and get out of there.
My brother is not there when I get outside, so I collapse onto the curb in the shade and smoke a cigarette. When he does pull up next to me, it takes me a full thirty seconds to motivate myself to stand up and get in the car. He is nice enough to stop at the grocery store on the way home so I can buy wine, because I deserved it.
UGH!!!!!!!

New Job

2009-08-27T13:38:00.003-04:00

I finally got a job!!!! I am now a part-time employee at Victoria's Secret- hey, part-time is better than nothing, and there's plenty of room for advancement. The lovely lady to the left is wearing the bra I got for FREE on my first day (yesterday). The only difference is mine is black... and I don't exactly look like a supermodel....

More Star Trek amusement

2009-08-07T13:17:00.003-04:00

Okay, here's another funny Star Trek thing. It's a "bad transcript" based on the new Star Trek movie.

Star Trek?

2009-08-07T13:01:00.001-04:00

This was absolutely fantastic. What would the Star Trek movie be like if George Lucas had made it?

Lost signs

2009-07-30T17:50:00.002-04:00

We all see them- "Lost Puppy," or "Lost Cat," or, my former favorite, "Lost Bird"-- how would you find a lost bird, by the way?
How about this one, though?
"Lost Kitchen Knives!!! $100 Reward!!!"
I kid you not. Cracked me up on the bus this morning. I want to get the phone number off that sign, just so I can get the story behind it.

The Great Laundry Caper

2009-07-25T09:43:00.002-04:00

Anybody out there? No? Okay, good.
Just a quick update. Bedbugs have infested my bedroom, but thankfully have not spread elsewhere in the house. I am currently doing the largest amount of laundry in my life- i.e. all of the clothes I own are being washed - twice- in very hot water. I am trying to ignore the fact that some of my clothes will be ruined by this process.
My mattress and boxspring will be thrown away, so for the foreseeable future I will continue sleeping in the guest room or on the couch/futon. Lovely. Also have to steam clean the carpet in my bedroom about a thousand times.
Still pissed off at the so-called "doctor" who diagnosed me with Shingles instead of bedbugs a year ago. Thanks, bitch.
In other news... still job hunting, as usual. I got a call from Enterprise Rent-a-Car yesterday and set up an interview, but now I don't know what's happening with that. After explaining that I do not have a car and rely solely on public transportation, we set up an interview for Monday at 11:00am, and she emailed me the address... and it's out in the middle of Maryland. Not somewhere I can get to via public transportation. Thanks for listening. (God, I have turned into Eeyore). So I emailed her to ask whether there's any way to do the interview closer to home- inside the DC Metro area as I had already told her when we spoke- and have yet to receive an answer. Why are people such morons? That's unfair. She probably didn't know how far the Metro goes into Maryland. *sigh*
Plan:
Step One: Get rid of bedbug infestation.
Step Two: Get a job that pays something resembling money.
Step Three: Begin paying my brother back the ridiculous amount of money I owe him.
Step Four: Buy a new mattress and boxspring.
Step Five: Get very drunk on new mattress and boxspring while watching Star Trek, because I fucking deserve it.
Step Six: Find a reasonably priced apartment and move into it.

There are far too many steps to my brilliant plan. I'm not so good at brilliant plans, apparently. How about this one?

Step One: Find a rich guy.
Step Two: Marry him.
Step Three: All problems solved.

Somehow I don't think that one will work, either... it's sort of on the same level as my plan to meet Prince William and marry him so I can become Queen Britten of Britain. As in, never going to happen.

Back to the Great Laundry Caper. Will report more breaking news as it occurs.

Creative Cuisine

2009-07-22T11:25:00.002-04:00

Last night I cooked up some tilapia, mashed potatoes, and creamed spinach for dinner for me and my brother. This morning I wanted eggs for breakfast, but we have no bread to go with it (unless I wanted to toast up a hot dog roll) so I needed to put something in the eggs to make it a filling meal. I had the bright idea to scramble the eggs with some of the leftover creamed spinach and a little bit of fresh-grated asiago cheese.
I will be having this for breakfast for the rest of my life. Or at least the rest of the week! YUM!

Shingles... or bedbugs?

2009-07-20T23:44:00.002-04:00

Okay, as some of you may or may not be aware of, back in October (well, August and September really) I started getting really fucking itchy and had a rash on my arm that soon spread to my hand and my face, and a little bit on my feet as well. At the beginning of October I went to a clinic, seeing as how I haven't got medical insurance (Obama!!! HELP!!!) and the "doctor" there diagnosed me with Shingles.
I was 25 at the time.
But whatever. Everything she gave me seemed to help a bit, for a while, and she was happy because she got her hands on $600. And I didn't really question having Shingles until now, because the cases of it in younger people has been on the rise ever since we started vaccinating children against Chicken Pox- and coincidentally, my nephew had just gotten the vaccination when I started getting itchy!
So when the itchiness came back- regularly- I thought it was another outbreak of Shingles, or possible Post-Herpetic Neuralgia (also known as nerve damage due to- you guessed it! Shingles!).
Then, in June, I went up to Salem, New York, to spend a month recovering my sanity at my parents' house (sanity due to job hunting, not Shingles), and I noticed within a day that I was miraculously itch-free! I thought perhaps it was due to stress, since Shingles can be brought on by stress, and figured the fresh country air was doing me good.
Today I came back to Virginia.
I laid down in my bed.
I started itching.
I was watching a movie, so I didn't do anything for a while- I thought maybe it was psychological- I'm back in the place where I itch, so I feel like I'm itchy even though I'm not, etc.
Then I saw out of the corner of my eye a movement by my remote control. I flipped the light on, and there they were.
Bedbugs.
Fuck.
I NEVER HAD SHINGLES! THEY WERE BEDBUGS THE WHOLE TIME!!!!!!
That "doctor" must have seen me coming- $600 to treat me for an illness I never even had, and $475 of that was for bloodwork which I never got the results from. And it was only bedbugs. If she had just said "Those are bedbug bites" I would have been able to take care of this whole mess shortly after the infestation occurred. But noooooo. I've been living with bedbugs- letting those little bastards suck my blood every god damned night- for almost a full year. They're living inside my bed at this point. What the hell am I supposed to do about that? I need a new mattress.
Insert a expletives here.
That is all. For now.

A moment of silence...

2009-07-19T10:25:00.003-04:00

In the midst of all the celebrity deaths of the last few weeks- Ed McMahon, Farrah Fawcett, Michael Jackson, Billy Mays, and last but not least, Walter Cronkite- I think that it's only fitting that we remember those who were not famous and who have passed away.
CNN reports that July has become the deadliest month for foreign troops currently serving in Afghanistan, with the death total reaching- so far- 47. These men were neither famous nor wealthy. Their sacrifices for our safety- whether you believe in our presence in the Middle East or not- should be remembered and respected every bit as much, if not more than those who were stars among us.

Also gone now is Henry Allingham, the world's oldest man and the oldest British Veteran of the first World War. It's amazing to think that this man knew three centuries of our history. Born in 1896, Allingham passed away at the ripe old age of 113. Can you even imagine? Henry was four years old at the turn of his first century- one hundred and four at his second. Pardon my French, but that is fucking incredible.

So if you're reading this, take a moment to reflect on these incredible lives that have been lost- those of unspeakably brave men fighting for our lives as well as their own, and for a man who represented the passing of time in a way we often forget exists. Think of what Allingham saw happen in his incredible lifetime- the advances made, the wars fought, and the soldiers, like the ones in Afghanistan and like himself back in WWI, who have formed our history. Maybe we should all write in to our local news stations and ask them to stop talking about Michael Jackson and start talking about something more important?

Vanity or Insanity?

2009-07-18T16:47:00.004-04:00

Whenever I see someone with a vanity plate on their car (which happens frequently in Virginia, where I live), I just want to pull up alongside them and ask, "What the hell does your license plate mean...?
Oh yeah... and do you have any Grey Poupon?"
Alternatively, when I see someone who clearly doesn't have a vanity plate... I want to do the same thing, and see how confused they get.
To go to hell, or not to go to hell... that is the question.

Hair

2009-07-07T13:14:00.000-04:00

Well, it's official. I am 26 years old, and my hair is definitely starting to go gray! I have at least a dozen white/silver hairs coming in. Surprisingly, I think it's pretty awesome. I think I'll look pretty adorable with silver hair. No more dying my hair for me!

Game Shows

2009-07-02T13:02:00.001-04:00

My grandmother's gameshows and soap operas have officially invaded my subconscious. Last night I had a dream that someone was trying to steal one of my babies because I wasn't the biological mother, while they were poisoning one of my other babies, and the only way I could save them both was if I picked the right vowel and figured out how much an iPod costs.

Weddings and other things

2009-07-01T12:53:00.002-04:00

On Saturday, I went with my family to my cousin Jimmy's wedding. It was lots of fun, and it was at a dude ranch, which I find hysterical. Jimmy met his beautiful bride, Teaira, when they were out four-wheeling. And one of the bridesmaids, Paige, has just made it past the first cut of American Idol, so keep an eye out for her!

Random cuteness

2009-07-01T12:48:00.002-04:00

I got to talk to my favorite person in the world yesterday- Trent! Marla put him on the phone with me for a minute, and he said "Hiiiiiiii....." Then he goes, "Doing, doing!" so I said "What are you doing?" "No...." I guess he was supposed to be napping, but didn't want to, hence the "no." He didn't say "nanoo," [translation: I love you] but that's okay. I can't wait to see him! It's only been just over a week, and I miss him so much!!

Mom says...

2009-07-01T11:15:00.002-04:00

that I should be writing some of my humor down, and definitely my toddler tales that I get from Trent. Hmm... Toddler Tales... there's a title.
Well, currently I am in Upstate New York, relaxing with my parents and my kick-ass grandma. Here's what happened:
Like the majority of the country, I am unemployed and trying to find a job, and have not been having much luck. It's pretty depressing, really, and discouraging. I've applied for literally hundreds of jobs, and have only had ONE interview since March when I started looking. Kind of makes you go crazy, really!
So, needless to say, this has not helped my mental state. I've been kind of depressed, anyway, what with ending my longtime position as nanny for my amazing nephew- after two years of taking care of this little boy, ever since he was born, it's difficult to let go. I'm so lucky to be where I am in Virginia, and to have my brother and his wife welcome me into their home and family and take care of me while I'm job hunting. It's nice, too, because even though I'm no longer Trent's childcare provider, I still get to see him every day and play with him and be a huge part of his life. The more things change, the more they stay the same? I love cliches...
I digress. [good use of the word "digress"]
Anyway. As I was saying before my rambling began... what was I saying? Oh yes. Job hunting sucks! And it's getting me down. So Marla, my wonderful sister-in-law, had been planning a trip to Upstate NY to bring Trent and his new little brother, Hunter, to visit family, and she said many times that I was welcome to come with her, but I kept saying that I couldn't because I'm trying to find a job and blah blah blah... and then one day I said, "Why the hell not?"
I mean honestly. My employment status was not likely to change in the next month or so, and I was biting the head off of anyone who even dared to give me advice on looking for a job... I realized that I needed to get out of the situation in order to get new perspective and to re-energize myself.
So Marla, the boys, and I drove from Virginia to Albany just over a week ago, and then the following day my Dad drove down to Albany to pick me up and bring me to Salem.
*sigh of relaxation*
The change is amazing! I'm not itchy anymore (something I've been struggling with ever since my bout with shingles back in October, more on that at some point I'm sure). I'm actually SLEEPING at night- no more finally falling asleep at 4 or 5 in the morning because my mind won't stop worrying about things I can't fix until I get the aforementioned mythical job. No more wishing I was with my parents and grandma, who recently had to move in with my parents due to a back injury. Now I'm here, and I'm helping. I'm wanted- not that I'm not wanted in Virginia, but it's different. I didn't realize how much I missed my parents- or how much they missed me. And I'm getting to spend some valuable time with my grandmother, which is something I will always cherish.
I love this house. It's so refreshing after two years in Virginia. I like Virginia, but Upstate NY is the most beautiful place in the world- and I've actually visited some truly beautiful places in the world, so I kind of know what I'm talking about here. It's so green, and I can see the mountains, in the distance and nearby. There isn't a house every five feet! My parents' house is a beautiful old white farmhouse sitting on a few acres of land- acres! unheard of in Virginia!- with a barn, a garage, a creek in the backyard. I can sit on the porch and have a glass of wine (or two...) with my parents in the afternoon, I can go out at night and see the thousands of fireflies blinking in the fields, mirrored by the broad expanse of sky filled with more stars that you could ever count. I can watch the hummingbirds going back and forth to the feeder my mother has set up on the porch, and I can watch the baby birds taking their first flying lessons of that same porch... It's amazing how much better I feel.
I think that when I go back to Virginia at the beginning of August, I'll be ready to find my job and get going with life again.

Prayer for my boys

2009-03-11T20:48:00.002-04:00

There are people who worry, for themselves. These people are numerous; they probably contribute to the majority of the population.
Then there are people, like myself (I think), who worry not for themselves, but for those whom they love.
I worry about myself, don't get me wrong; but those thoughts are always secondary, almost- but not quite- inconsequential.
I love far too much. And I know this, for a fact. I feel things too deeply.
Which is, probably, why I worry so much! I fear for my friends, who don't have the... mental discipline, I suppose it is, that I have. For the ones who cannot- or will not- put themselves in someone elses' shoes.
But most of all, I worry for my boys.
I have no boyfriend, no fiancee, no husband to worry about.
What I have...

A father,
A brother,
A nephew.

I so want to write something significant, something that could help them; a charm, perhaps, against evil and sickness.
All I can provide is myself; daughter, sister, aunt. I hope it is enough.

So here is my prayer, the prayer of a girl who has no true religion, who was born of a Catholic mother and a Protestant father, whose earliest memories of religion consist of a single conversation with her father ("Daddy, do you believe in God?" "No, cutie- I believe in aliens."), a girl who is trying- desperately- to discover her own spiritualism and identity; the prayer of a girl who loves- loves- the boys in her family and cannot bear to lose them.

Protect my men.

Protect my father, who has been, and is, a hero more times than it is possible to count. Keep the cancer away, keep him happy, give him joy in everything he loves, especially family. Keep him around, if he wants, to see more of his grandchildren, and, one day, maybe even to see me married.

Protect my brother, as you (whoever you are) already have. Let him live, finally! You've already made him so lucky in love, as well as life- please let him continue that way.

And, dear God, if you're really out there, please protect my nephew. Let him grow up loved, warm, and happy. Grant him everything you have already given to my brother and father; and, if it's not too much to ask, let him always know how much I love him. He brought me back from emptiness, when I was very ready to give in.

Dear God, or Gods, or Goddesses, or the fucking Flying Spaghetti Monster if you please; protect my men.

Cuteness update

2008-12-08T09:19:00.001-05:00

My nephew, Trent, who is approaching a year and a half old, is currently sitting with our bulldog, "reading" her a book.

She is decidedly NOT interested.

As ordered by the authorities...

2008-12-05T09:55:00.002-05:00

My brother has instructed me to write in my blog every day.

Even though I'm fairly positive he doesn't read my blog, I've decided to attempt to comply with this request.

That seems to be the most interesting thing I have to say right now... hmmm...

All right, well, I'm sitting on the futon in our family room watching "Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire," reading the book of the same title (since I enjoy reading something and watching the movie at the same time-- that's right, I'm odd), and typing on the laptop. I'm also trying to figure out what the hell is going to happen next in the chic-lit I'm attempting to write, and listening to the baby snoring over the monitor, as well as listening to the dog snoring on the bean bag chair at my feet.

I am a master of multi-tasking.

Not really, as none of this requires much brainpower...

My parents are coming to visit next week on their way down to Florida! I haven't seen them since May. They're staying for a whole day. Better than originally, though, when they weren't going to stop at all until April. I'll take what I can get. They're going to wish they could stay longer, though, when they see their adorable grandson. Trent is currently working on jumping. It's going to take a while before he succeeds, but it is soooooooo freaking cute, watching him try.

I've decided I'm going to start liking green tea. I'm going to start liking it now, theoretically, as I'm thirsty and they tell me it's good for me.

(That's my way of saying I'm done writing now, as I'm going to go make a cup of tea. Feeling British today-- maybe it will help me write!)

Review of Donald McCaig's "Rhett Butler's People"

2008-12-03T11:32:00.002-05:00

I was very excited when I went to the library last and discovered Donald McCaig's novel, "Rhett Butler's People." Having read Margaret Mitchell's "Gone With the Wind" at least a couple dozen times, as well as the unauthorized sequel "Scarlett" by Alexandra Ripley, I was thrilled by the idea of a novel all about everyone's favorite love interest, Rhett Butler.
The fact that the novel was authorized by Margaret Mitchell's estate made it all the more exciting to me.
I have to say, I was somewhat disappointed. Clearly, McCaig did his research, and the book is well-written, but it veers off from some of the most important parts of the book. I have no issue with the introduction of several new characters- after all, the character of Rhett Butler is somewhat of a mystery in "Gone With the Wind." He disappears from the pages of the book frequently, so it makes perfect sense that there would be characters we'd never heard of who played important roles in his life away from Scarlett O'Hara.
However, the way that McCaig treats the characters we all know and love gives me pause. Scarlett, for example, is treated more like a background character, and though throughout the book, Rhett is said to be in love with her, it never rings true. Her personality- a personality so three dimensional and realistic in the original novel- seems flat and undeveloped in "Rhett Butler's People." Rhett claims to have fallen in love with her at first sight, which corresponds with GWTW, and yet his reason for it- that she is like him- falls short of the mark. Also, the relationship between these dynamic characters is altered in McCaig's version. One of the turning points in the plot of GWTW is when, after Ashley Wilkes' birthday party, Rhett and Scarlett make love, and Scarlett's latent passion and sexuality are awoken. This is the point in the novel when Scarlett slowly begins to realize that she's actually in love with her husband; yet, in "Rhett Butler's People," Scarlett and Rhett have an intensely passionate relationship- even leaving dinner one night on their honeymoon to go back to the hotel room because Scarlett is aroused. To change such a vital part of the original plot makes Scarlett's realization of her love for Rhett seem false.
Another change is in the character of Melanie Wilkes, who, in this new novel, actually knows of Scarlett and Ashley's connection and works continuously to keep them apart. She writes to Rhett Butler's sister that she is always making sure not to let them be alone together, because she is afraid of what might happen. Why, then, does she send Scarlett to hold Ashley at the mills while preparing for his birthday party, knowing full well what may happen? It simply doesn't make sense!
I knew that this novel would not have the same ending as Ripley's "Scarlett," so it came as no shock; yet I was surprised to believe "Scarlett," an unauthorized sequel that reads more like a romance novel, more than this authorized version. At least in "Scarlett," the title character retains her original personality and importance. I understand that McCaig's book is, obviously, focused on Rhett's character, but I firmly believe that in a sequel to GWTW, Scarlett should at least be on an equal footing in terms of importance, and she most certainly was not.
As a curiosity piece, this book is worth the read for anyone who loves "Gone With the Wind," but it doesn't stand alone, and, though well-written, doesn't retain the feel of the original novel.

Yes we can!

2008-12-03T11:04:00.002-05:00

I just wanted to write a quickie saying how glad I am that Barack Obama will be our next president.
That said, I think he stole one of his catch phrases, "Yes we can."
Anybody ever see "Bob the Builder"? I take care of a little boy, and the theme song to "Bob the Builder" goes something like this:
Bob, the builder!
Can we fix it?
Bob, the builder!
YES WE CAN!

Sound familiar? Perhaps Obama used to watch this with his daughters and thought, "Hmmm, that has a nice ring to it... Can we fix it? Yes, we can!"
In any case, it works. I just hope Bob doesn't get together with Joe and sue his ass..

Blurg Blog

2008-11-23T15:06:00.002-05:00

Since I live with a miniature human being who is learning how to speak, and most definitely entering the "monkey see, monkey do" stage, it is officially time to reign in my swearing. Not that I swear a lot. I mean, really. I hardly swear at all. Barely ever, Mom...
Anyway, I'm assembling a list of new swear words that if the baby repeats them, it won't reflect badly on me. So here are the swear words of Liz Lemmon on 30 Rock:

Blurg.
Nerds!
What the what?!
Crap balls...

Okay, the last one I should probably leave out, but the others are fairly harmless.
30 Rock is my new favorite show.

Bloody Brits!

2008-11-19T15:18:00.002-05:00

Could someone explain to me why all of the best children's books take place in England? I mean, honestly-- it's crazy!
I guess I should be asking why all the best children's authors are British. What is with that?
I've decided to one day be one of the great children's authors. I'll show them-- I'll be an English-American author! (Wow. English-American just sounds weird, doesn't it? Not like Italian-American, African-American, etc... and for that matter, how come we don't have our own community center? What if I wanted, someday, to get married at the English-American Community Center? There isn't one!)
Enough for one day.
But it is true-- those bloody Brits have a monopoly on good children's literature. Mope.

SHOCKING!

2008-11-19T10:00:00.001-05:00

I called Nelnet about my student loans today (since three years after graduating college I am still unable to pay them back) and get this! The woman on the phone was HELPFUL! I'm amazed! My faith in the human race has been renewed slightly!

Almost forgot to add...

2008-11-18T11:36:00.003-05:00

My dog died. Feebee was a poodle that I got for my eleventh birthday. She would have been fifteen next month. Last week she died in her sleep. Very sad. I feel worst for my parents, since they're the one who have take care of her since I went to college (and probably since I was eleven despite my promises that I would take care of a puppy all by myself... which might be why she never got trained properly... but can you train a poodle? Getting off track again, hmm...).
She was a good dog. Crazy as a bedbug by the end (never quite got that expression, Dad, but it sounds funny; are bedbugs crazy? I thought they were just annoying and itchy...).
So yeah. No more Feebee. R.I.P. 12/28/93-11/14/08

Writers I am loving right now

2008-11-18T11:02:00.003-05:00

I finally got around to getting a library card last month. I'm impressed with myself-- it only took a year and a half of living here. I guess what got my ass in gear was that I quit my bookstore job and realized I needed some way of funding my addiction... the library seemed the most economically sensible idea.

So I've been exploring some random different books and authors.

First of all, I finally read Matilda by Roald Dahl. Can you believe ("You" being theoretical, as no one reads this blog) that I had never read anything by him before? I've been deprived for over twenty-five years. When I go to the library again, I'm taking out ALL of his books. All of them. I mean it. Children's books make me happy. And they make me feel good about myself, because I can say "I read four books in one day," and if I don't specify what they were, people think I'm uber smart.

Sigh.

I think I might be in desperate need of a social life...

Moving on. A while back, I borrowed Inkheart from my friend Leah who had stolen it from some kid she babysits. I might be exaggerating. Inkheart, written by Cornelia Funke (whose last name makes me smile because I just finished watching "Arrested Development), is a beautiful book. Any story where the author successfully writes a book within a book makes me happy. It's simply a flawless story, and I'm about to start reading Inkspell, the second book in the series. Meanwhile, the movie version with Brendan Fraser looks absolutely awful, and I fully protest.

I have also decided to read everything that Candace Bushnell, author of Sex and the City, has written. I loved the TV show, which I found to be a terrific adaptation of the book, so I set out to check out her other books. I was pleasantly surprised; I literally pulled everything off the shelf with her name on it, not knowing what the books were about, and started reading in no particular order.

Listick Jungle was my favorite, and the first of the group that I read. I know it's now a TV show, also, and I would like to write novels that turn into-- not movies-- TV SHOWS! How does she DO that?
,
After that, I read 4 Blondes, which I discovered was actually four very short novellas about very bitchy blondes. It was a cute grouping of stories. I enjoyed most of all the story about Janey Wilcox, a former action/adventure actress and a model who uses sex to make a living.

Then I read Trading Up and realized I had read the books in the wrong order. I should have read the novella about Janey, then Trading Up, and finally Lipstick Jungle. Because Trading Up is all about our lovely, slutty Janey, who marries a man called Selden Rose, who has a big part in Lipstick Jungle, which, while reading, I had wondered at the allusions to his ex-wife...

Did that make sense? Is it pathetic that when I realized they all tied in together without actually being a series or sequels that I got REALLY excited? I live for this sort of thing.

Yup. Definitely need to work on that social life...

Last but not least, my new favorite and most hated writer, Cecilia Ahern, who writes just like me, is about my age, has several best-selling novels, and is also the daughter of Ireland's Prime Minister. The lucky bitch.

P.S. I Love you is a very sweet story about a woman whose husband dies, leaving behind notes for each month after he's gone to help her cope. It was cute.

Love, Rosie, however, I wish I had written. The entire book is told through emails, letters, notes, and instant message conversations. It's brilliant, and a page turner, and did I mention I wish I was Cecilia Ahern? If I looked like her, I might try to steal her identity. Hmph. Right now I'm finishing up If you could see me now, a brilliant and original story about an imaginary friend. I won't tell you more ("You" is, again, hypothetical; even if someone had stumbled upon this blog accidentally, I doubt they're still reading it. Hi, Mom!).

And there is my totally pointless reading update.

Day Six, and other things

2008-09-17T09:56:00.002-04:00

Well, I'm pretty proud of myself. Six days without smoking! And I haven't been too bitchy (though not without effort). The hardest thing is that I want to yell at people but I know it's just the withdrawal. And, in normal life, quitting smoking would give me the right to be a supreme bitch. But unfortunately, I live with a pregnant woman, and that wins, hands down, every time. So I'm on my best behavior, for all that it helps.

A bit down, lately. I don't know if it's because I'm not smoking, or if I'm PMSing, or a combination of things, but I am so sick of being alone. I need a real life. And I wouldn't mind someone to share it with, if that's not too much to ask. Doomed to be single..? Probably. But, come March, it's back out into the real world to find a job. No more nanny-ing, no more bookstore-- 9-5, if I can find it.

I'm not sure how well I'll do in a 9-5 job. I guess it depends on what it is. But what the hell am I qualified for?

Random thoughts and worries that keep me up at night. Sorry I'm not too cheery. Blah, blah, blah. At least I quit smoking, though.

Day Two: The Bitchiness Begins

2008-09-13T18:23:00.002-04:00

Day Two, No Smoking

Still no cigarettes. Definitely getting bitchy, but not overly so. I worked at the bookstore from 10-6 today and didn't smoke! (Of course, I threw out my last full pack of cigs yesterday, so I didn't have any, but there's a grocery store by where I work-- don't think I wasn't tempted!) But I did it! I made it through the day so far, so good, and now I'm home and definitely won't have access to any smokes tonight, so Day Two is a success! Despite stupid and rude customers, I held strong. And I'm damn proud of myself. Helps that I brought my silly fake cigarette to work and a NintendoDS to play Sudoko on every time I got a really bad craving... Sudoko is very calming, and it takes me the same time to finish a puzzle as it does to smoke a cigarette (usually).

So. To anyone reading this (other than myself), au revoir et bon soir.

Day One: No Smoking!

2008-09-12T11:14:00.002-04:00

So, I'm doing it. Finally quitting.
I figured I might as well document the quitting process, just in case anyone actually starts reading this and finds it helpful.

Six days ago, I started taking Chantix, a pill that helps you stop smoking. You're supposed to continue smoking the first week, while it starts kicking in, and then stop. I have a month's supply.

After a couple of days, I started getting a little bit nauseous when I smoked, and my cigarettes (curiously enough) started tasting a bit... peppery. Weird. But effective, as I loathe pepper in any form. Dunno if that's common... maybe if you take it, they'll taste like onions or red wine or whatever you don't like?

Anyway, I noticed a definite drop-off in the amount of cigarettes I was smoking almost immediately. In the last six days, I've gone from smoking almost a full pack a day (six days ago) to the two and a half cigarettes I smoked yesterday. Without getting extraordinarily bitchy or anything!

Hell, for all I know, I might be taking a sugar pill. But the idea of a pill helping me-- key word there, helping-- to stop smoking... makes things a lot easier.

Of course, I have help, in the form of a BiC pen.

Yes. You read that correctly (if anyone is, in fact, out there reading this). I took an ordinary, white BiC pen and cut it with scissors, pulling out the pen bit, and cut it to the length of a cigarette. I wave that around and take drags from it. It might not work for everyone, but it helps with the habit part of the addiction.

Anyway. Done talking about my pen. The thing is, I'm really proud of myself so far. Two and a half cigarettes yesterday! And I was drinking wine last night! (That's when I smoked the half.) And today... nothing yet. I've been up since eight in the morning and have not smoked even a drag. Had my coffee and my BiC pen.

I can do this. Even without the pill, I could probably do this-- the pill just made me make the decision; by taking it, I was committing to trying. Actually trying, rather than falling asleep at night saying "I'll quit tomorrow" and then in the morning... well, cigarettes go so well with coffee, don't they?

Enough of the bullshit. I'm done!

Where were you?

2008-09-11T11:51:00.002-04:00

The question of the day. Where were you seven years ago? What were you doing when you heard?
It's the memory of our generation-- of all the generations who were alive and aware that day. Some have more memories of note-- there are many people who know where they were, what they were doing, when Kennedy was assassinated so many years ago. (My mother was in gym class, my father still living in England).
This one, though... it wipes everything out. Where were you when we were attacked? When the towers fell? When the security of the Pentagon-- the fucking Pentagon!!-- was breached.
I was on my way to class.
I had started college a couple of weeks before. I was going to SUNY Purchase, a college of about four thousand students located in White Plains, NY. Right outside of NYC.
Of course, I wasn't anywhere close to Ground Zero, but to me, an eighteen-year-old bright eyed, naive girl away from home and her parents for the first time, Ground Zero might as well have been no further away than the Dining Hall.

I was on my way to class. I was walking under an underpass between two of the dorms. There was a suite on the second floor right there that was full of Design Tech majors-- stage crew guys-- and already they had a reputation for projecting movies onto the wall opposite their windows.

They were playing something extremely loudly for such an early time of day-- it must have been just after ten in the morning. My class was at 10:30. As I walked past their open windows, I heard snippets of what they were listening to.

Urgent, stunned voices. "The World Trade Center has been hit--" "An airplane just flew into the tower--" "...suspect terrorism..."

As I puffed on my morning cigarette, my only thought was, "What movie are they watching?"

Then I arrived at the Humanities building and walked into the lobby to find a huge crowd standing around a TV that had been wheeled in. I stood on a bench at the back to see what they were watching just in time to see the second tower collapse.

After that, it's just a blur of images. Getting to my classroom to see my professor shut her phone and say "I've just heard that my family is okay. Class is canceled."

Running back to my dorm to my roommate, Nina, who lived in Manhattan and I had no idea where, or if it was close to the Towers. Her family turned out to be fine as well, though she couldn't get a hold of her mother for hours. It turned out her mom had watched the news of the attack and then gone grocery shopping.

The silent vigil in the hallway, doors open wide, every TV in every room tuned to the news coverage of the tragedy so that the whole hall was in an eerie surround sound, broken only by our hushed, frightened voices occasionally saying, "How could this have happened?"

The candlelight vigil that night. The moments of silence. The week and a half of no classes so that, once the city was reopened, people could go home and be with their families. So many students at Purchase were from NYC.

The drive home, to Albany, with a friend of mine from high school. The NY State Thruway, packed on the way north, with the other side empty of all cars. No one going south except for a steady line of military vehicles on their way to help. The fear, seeing tanks driving down the highway-- tanks! I had only ever seen them at fairs! Never in real life.

My mother's embrace. The day after the attacks, I slept in my childhood bedroom for the first time in over two weeks. And for the first time, I didn't feel safe. The warmth of my parents' love soothed me, but the cocoon of safety was lessened, somehow, by the knowledge that it could happen here.

That is where I was on September 11, 2001. Where were you?

Anyone feel that?

2008-05-06T15:13:00.002-04:00

Around 1:30 this afternoon I heard a crashing noise and my house shook. My brother felt it at work, fifteen minutes away, but I can't find anything online about it. Anybody else in the Alexandria area feel it?

____________

It was an earthquake, by the way...

May 17th!

2008-05-06T10:55:00.002-04:00

My birthday is in 11 days! Also:

Trent Reznor, Enya, Bob Saget, Bill Paxton, Ayatollah Khomeini, and Botticelli share my birthday.

Things that made me laugh this week

2008-05-06T09:20:00.003-04:00

Strange conversation the other day with my brother, ending with me stating firmly:
"Fact: Salman Rushdie is NOT a fish."
(In truth, he is not; actually he's my favorite writer. I believe this is good logic that he is not a fish.)

Also, and this made my brother laugh like crazy, here's a wonderful joke.

What has four legs, is green and fuzzy, and if it drops out of a tree it will kill you?

A pool table!

And last but certainly not least, a friend of mine told a great story at our last ladies' meeting (yes, a group of neighborhood women get together and have a reason to say "See you next tuesday" to each other).
So anyway, my friend, in her early fifties told us how she and her husband were "doing the married thing" (and yes, she in fact did air quotes-- you see, she's a recovering Catholic, so she knows all the words but has to pretend she doesn't, since it takes a long time to recover from being Catholic).
Anyway, as I said, they were "doing the married thing" when her phone rings. It was her fifteen year old daughter, and she said "I can see you."
Needless to say, this must have been very disconcerting! My friend was looking behind her, freaking out, and she says "What?!"
Her daughter says, "I'm right behind you," and after a pause explains that she's in a car. A simple case of mistaken identity; she thought her mother was driving in front of her.
Simply killed the mood, though. "The married thing" did not progress.

There are RULES, you know!

2007-06-07T14:41:00.000-04:00

1. If I am reading a book, do not interrupt. Especially if you are interrupting in order to hit on me.
2. Do not hit on me if you are gross.
3. Do not hit on me if I am wearing something that appears to be an engagement ring.
4. If I appear unresponsive to your come-on, do not continue to try. Walk away and save your dignity.
5. Be original! At least then when I shoot you down, I can say "This guy hit on me. It was annoying, but at least he was original about it."
6. If you do not know me, I am not your "baby," your "sweetie," or your "sexy momma."
7. If I say I am taken, that's your cue to leave, not to ask where my boyfriend is and say he's missing out by not being with me. If he is not with me, it is not your cue to try to get with me.
8. GET A CLUE! Women are not THAT hard to read!
9. No really does mean no. And I DO carry mace, in case there's any confusion. Remember-- opposite day only exists in the fourth grade.

Old Articles on Waitressing-- 5th

2007-05-30T12:46:00.001-04:00

“Excuse me, do you know where the bathroom is?”

No, I’ve never used it. Or: I know where the employee one is, but I’m not sure about one for customers…
Of course we know where the bathroom is!
My other favorite, when serving outside, is “Is the bathroom inside?” What, do you think we have an outhouse? See those bushes back there in the parking lot? That’s probably the best place… more private than just going around the corner.

Old Articles on Waitressing-- 4th

2007-05-30T12:41:00.000-04:00

Stupid Questions, in general.

Okay. I worked at a Mexican/Southwestern restaurant. Rather specific cuisine. Here are some of my favorite stupidities from customers.

A lady asked me once, “Is your roasted pork carnitas as good here as it is in California?”
Keep in mind: I am wearing an oversized, grease-stained T-shirt, my hair is pulled back, no makeup, and I’m wearing an apron. What did I want to say?
“Do I look like I go traveling frequently? I mean, would I really be working here if I could afford to go to fucking California and taste their pork?”
What did I really say?
“Well, I’ve never been to California—in fact, I’ve never had the carnitas anywhere but here, but I love it, and I’ve waited on people from New Mexico who said it was incredible, too.”

Another favorite? This one was more recent. “This is really good water! Where does it come from?”
What did I want to say?
“It’s from the freaking faucet, are you nuts? It’s not like it’s bottled or something! Are you honestly complimenting our tap water? You’re sitting there eating the best damn wings in Southern Vermont and all you can compliment is the water?”
What did I really say?
“It’s well water. Isn’t it wonderful?”

Here’s one I get all the time, living in Vermont. “Do you ski?”
People always ask this. I always say no. Their reaction is entertaining—they seem to think that if you live in Vermont, you must be an expert skier—what’s more, they don’t understand how anyone can live in Vermont and not ski. Like there’s nothing else to do or something. Honestly, a lot of us do ski—I don’t—but we don’t have time because we’re waiting on all the people who flood into Vermont to go skiing!

Moral of the story?
DON'T ASK STUPID QUESTIONS!

Old Articles on Waitressing-- 3rd

2007-05-30T12:40:00.000-04:00

Air Traffic Controller

When you flag us down from across the room, this is what you look like. Also, an idiot. Added into that is that this annoys us: we know you are there, and we will get to you as soon as we possibly can. But if you flag me down while I’m giving another table their food or drinks, guess what my reaction is? To go around to every other table in my section and check on them first, then go to you with a big smile and say, “Thanks so much for waiting. Did you need something?” That is a waitress’s equivalent to saying, “Fuck you,” but with a warm and genuine smile.

Old Articles on Waitressing-- 2nd

2007-05-30T12:39:00.000-04:00

“There was a hair in my food.”

This is not what we want to hear from you. This is the phrase that makes your server suppress a sigh. Of course we’ll get you more food. We want you to be happy. And we will tell the kitchen that someone found a hair in their food.
But let’s be honest. Most of the time… it’s your hair.
So please, for our sake, if you have the unfortunate luck to discover hair in your food, first check to make sure it belongs to no one at your table. Then, only then, tell us.

Old Articles on Waitressing-- 1st

2007-05-30T12:36:00.000-04:00

“How much do I tip?”

First things first! Customary gratuity has gone UP! Shocking, I’m sure, that with the price of food and gasoline and basically everything in the world going up, tipping your server has increased too—I mean, where is the logic here? (In case you didn’t notice, that was a literary device known as “sarcasm.”)
Once it was 10%, then 15%, and now the minimum your server wants is 18%, though we much prefer 20%! How dare we ask for more money, you think?
Atkins. Weight Watchers. Low-carb, low-sodium, no-fat, no-sugar. Sauce on the side, no sour cream please. And then: I asked for no sour cream! That’s cheese, ma’am. Well, I’m allergic to dairy. You didn’t tell me that. You should have known.
People, give us a break! We are not mind readers. If we knew you were allergic, it’s not like we would really put a dairy product in your food just because we’re bored!
With increasing special orders from those of you on diets or with allergies, we deal with a lot more work and hassle. Where are the days when ordering food meant you picked something on the menu, asked for it, and that was that? Gone.
We don’t resent you for special orders, though. We do it too, when we go out to eat or when we order our own staff meals at our restaurants. After a year of eating just Mexican food, or Italian, or anything really, you have to make it more appetizing. And we drive our cooks crazy with it! Staff meals are probably way more complicated than anything you might come up with. But we treat our chefs better because they put up with our shit, and make our food right, and we are appreciative of that.
So please. Appreciate us like five percent more!

Appreciation?

2007-05-24T22:43:00.000-04:00

It seems like I'm always starting over. I think I'm becoming an old pro at beginnings-- so if anyone ever needs any help with that, I'm your girl. Also, I can spot typos from a mile away.
Virginia is very far removed from Vermont... I've only been here a few days, but already I miss Vermont in ways I didn't expect. I miss being lazy. It's so easy to be lazy in Vermont! I mean, honestly-- you go to work, bust your ass for five hours-- which is really nothing compared to everywhere I worked before I lived in Vermont-- deal with tourists who you hate but smile at anyway, and then once you finally get home all you want to do is drink a few beers, eat dinner, and go to sleep. You don't get anything constructive done in your free time, not really. It becomes work to go grocery shopping or to remember to go to the post office.
I think it's something with the mountains. When you're surrounded by such beauty-- and this is not to say that Virginia isn't beautiful, because it is-- but such incredible, majestic, green beauty (and so little civilization!), why would you want to do anything other than appreciate it?
But here... I can already tell that the pace is faster, more hurried, more exciting. I may miss being lazy, but after two years of nature and nature-freaks (no offense!), of organic food and foliage (which we couldn't even appreciate because of the tourists-- again, no offense!), of skiing and snowboarding (see previous parenthetical interruption), of clear blue summers and white winters, green springs and golden autumns... I realized that all of my laziness prevented me from appreciating Vermont anyway, and that the best way to appreciate a place... is to leave...