What's News?

"After 99 Days, Bush Uses News Conference to Test Winds." That's the headline. I thought it was test the waters. But what do I know. I've never written for the New York Times. So he addressed the nation, and..."Among the things the president has going for him is that he's still the president," said former Senator Bob Kerrey of Nebraska.

I suggest checking out the slide show on the page below. http://www.nytimes.com/2005/04/28/nyregion/28taxi.html?hp\

From Craig's List: $2300 / 2br - Lots Of Space in North Park Slope! Near train/ park/shopping/---Near Erica Sattin and Sarah Erlinder's "dream apartment"---way more than you can pay/:)---look into living in the Gowanus Redevlopment Zone!!!!!!!

This weekend the new Will Ferrell movie, Kicking and Screaming, comes out. Anyone? Here's the tagline: "All his life Phil Weston has dreamed of being on a winning team. Phil... your time has come."

Ten years ago, another movie called Kicking and Screaming was in the theatres. As it was written and directed by a man named Baumbach, it's much more my speed. The plot: "Following graduation, a handful of college students do nothing and talk about it wittily. "

What Else Do You Have to Do the major motion picture would be somewhat similar. I think the plot would be outlined as follows: "Following graduation, a handful of college studets (who are no longer college students because it is following graduation-duh) do a lot and blog about it wittily." I think the the title is still available. The closest thing would probably be the 1992 Iranian film,"Digeh che khabar," which translates to mean "What Else is New?"

Risky Business

One of my coworkers talks a lot, and over the past ten months of my employment I've gotten used to her tendency to think out loud. I almost always pay attention to what she says, but I don't always absorb it, even when it is relevant to me and/or my work. And I consider responding verbally totally optional. But today one of her non-sequiturs hit me like a ton of bricks:

She: "I saw on CNN this morning that Tom Cruise and Katie Holmes are dating."

Me: [shrieking] "What??????!!!!!!"

This blows me away. I don't even know what to write about it, but I had to write something. I think Katie Holmes is a beautiful, classy girl, and brava to her for scoring with Maverick himself, but WHAT is he doing? Besides having a mid-life crisis, which I don't think people as rich and successful as he is should be allowed to have. Please, someone (Alison, perhaps?) comment on this and help me sort it all out. Thanks.

Best Week Ever!

This being Administrative Professionals Week, there are big events down at the 'ffice. Yesterday we were treated to a free breakfast, which was actually quite delicious and full of things like spinach quiche and ham and cheese fritatta. Nothing continental here. Then, at 10:35 am, it happened. We all received the email from our supervisor's supervisor:

Subject: Got Caught in the Rain?

Well, as luck would have it, our support staff gift this year is a windproof umbrella in a sturdy carrying case.

Unfortunately, this gift is for CWT employees only so temporary paralegals are not eligible. Temporary paralegals are welcome to the dessert fest on Friday however.

Classy. The sturdy carrying case has a shoulder strap and the whole thing looks like a shoulder fired missile launcher or at least a billy club. Coworker Maggie said two years ago they got rolling suitcases and last year it was a "crappy" radio. This brings me to the DESSERT FEST on Friday. So many SSSSSs, so many Es. Anyway, I still think this job is hilarious. More hilarious is that at the old job no one was appreciated for anything...
Of note: today is bring your child to work day here at Cadwalader. So far have not seen any children, but there was a sign this morning that said "Take Your Child to Breakfast." Which struck me as very funny somehow.

radiokbla has self-destructed

I had a friendster blog and now it is gone. The page is just empty and cannot be found. Why would this be? Any blog-xperts care to weigh in? The only thing I can think is that I referred to my nasal spray by name-brand on the blog. Yes, Sarah, I realize that makes me sound even gayer than usual. Where is my blog? I don't think I sniffed it up...

Sarah Interprets the Scriptures....

Ok. It's passover. Let me share my thoughts and feelings on bread.
1. If we were not intended to eat carbs, there would be no passover. Passover would have been a really convienient way to segue the chosen people onto the chosen diet. But such is not the case. The Atkins-friendly ham and cheese omelet replacing the bagel for breakfast? I don't think so... And isn't the whole point at one level to make us appreciate how great it is that we're not in bondage or trudging through the desert waiting for a miracle. Life is so good, we eat levened bread... why give that up?
2. What is Kosher for Passover? Now, obviously I don't keep Kosher For the Rest of the Year, but under these more relaxed guidelines, I advocate for a more contemporary approach to the bread of affliction. Ok, so in Moses' time Matzoh came about because in their haste to flee oppression, the dough had no time to rise, it was baked by the sun... and so on. Just as the Jews didn't have lots of leisure time to make artesanal breads, hard-working poor folks worldwide have been making do with what they have. These are transcendant themes of poverty and in our new global culture I think alternate and international breads of affliction should be taken into account.
New acceptable substitutions for Matzoh and yes, I have been ordained on the internet:

• Pita
• Tortilla
• Nan
• Injera (Eithiopian flat bread, used to eat tasty morsels with your hands. Hello, affliction.)
• Fry bread. (No one is more oppressed than the Native Americans, come on.)
• Lefse (Norweigians are afflicted with stupidness. That's right, Kristina.)

While writing this, I came across this: http://www.foodsubs.com/Flatbread.html

"Reality Bites," Real and Imagined

There are some films and TV shows that you see in your youth and remember as being simply wonderful. Flawless, really. Then sometimes you see them again when you're a bit older and realize that they are not actually very good at all. (For me, Mike Myers' "So I Married an Axe Murderer" and the series "Perfect Strangers.") "Reality Bites" is not one of those movies. I watched it again last night on the We channel and was kind of bowled over by how it may even be better than I remembered it. Maybe this is because I don't think I've seen it since graduating from college, and therefore have a new appreciation for Troy Dyer's wisdom ("The only thing you have to be at 23 is yourself.") and Laney's job search (David Spade at the fast food joint: "There's a reason I've been here six months.") Maybe it's because Ethan Hawke hasn't looked that good in years or because Janeane Garofalo's bangs are back in style. Maybe it's the soundtrack--the "My Sharona" scene in the gas station food mart, the wonderfully mopey scenes at the end set to U2's "All I Want is You." In any case, next time you're at a parent's house for a holiday that you are half-heartedly celebrating and find yourself alone and kind of bored at 11 p.m., I highly recommend revisiting what I now consider a classic.

Possible Unknown Benefit of Lesbianism

When a lady is late for work and the outfit she had imagined as being genius actually looks stupid, might it not be more useful to have a girlfriend than a boyfriend? Boyfriends are nice and all, but kind of useless in the face of that kind of panic that really only a girl/woman/femmie gay man can understand. Just a thought.

Re: jury duty

I spent a good deal of my childhood sneakily watching Night Court. I wasn't allowed to, due to the graphic nature or something like that. But while my mom made dinner, I'd watch and learn about things like hookers and bailiffs. Only one of these came in useful in my time at Jury Duty, you'll have to read on to determine which. (Note: A similar sneaking-of-forbidden-media-involving-prostitutes situation arose with Pretty Woman, but that's the subject of another blog. This one concerns courts.) So I was summoned for Jury Duty in Kings County on Monday. I was very excited about it, not only was it a change of scenery but it seemed like a great opportunity to see a real slice the lives of people in my community. Errr... borough. People in my
community are 34 years old and generally have two kids who they dress in expensive tights and progressive silk-screened Ts. "Babies Against Bush." I showed up at 8:45 on Monday and was told to "have a seat." Over the next two hours more and more folks came in, some of whom had
been waiting to be called all day Friday, some of whom had already been Voir Dire-ed and selected for a jury. We all waited. We got intricately detailed instructions, repeated 6 times, about how exactly to tear the perforations on our cards and how to cross out our name or
addresses if they were listed incorrectly. We watched a video hosted by Jane Pauley and Ed Bradley (of 60 Minutes). It gave examples of how much the legal system has improved since the Dark Ages when folks were bound and thrown into a lake to determine guilt or innocence. If they floated, they were guilty. Sank meant innocence. (This is like the Salem witch trials although for some reason I had always imagined this being doubly barbaric because if the person sank, I thought they would automatically be dead. The video cleared this up by showing the
townspeople waiting a given amount of time and then rushing in to recover the newly acquitted and very wet detainee.) The video also told us that if we felt like we were just wasting time, waiting around, we were wrong. We were in fact not only fulfilling our civic duty but upholding the institution of democracy. I felt good about that, but still thought I was wasting my life. We waited and waited. At 12:30 we were dismissed for a 1.5 hour lunch. I shopped along the
Fulton Mall in downtown Brooklyn. I found some amazing bargains, especially on shoes, in stores white people don't shop at. I ate a Thai lunch special of basil chicken. I went back to the room. I waited for another hour. At 3pm my name was called. I felt smug parading past all of the other folks who had to keep waiting, I was going to be Voir Dire-ed. In truth, one of the reasons I was so excited about Jury Duty was the possibility of a really juicy case. At some level I was hoping
for a murder, or some capital crime, so I could trick my way onto the Jury, vote against the death penalty, subvert the whole system... this illusion was shattered for two reasons. 1. I am fairly sure, though could confirm this via a quick google, that New York state is on a
moratorium when it comes to the death penalty. 2. As soon as we got into the questioning room, I was told it was a civil car accident dispute. Damn.
So we were asked questions about ourselves, our families... our experiences in car accidents... and eventually the jury was selected. Almost everyone was picked, noticeably not the man who asked for a "private conference" with the attorneys. The jury of six was myself, a 40-something white "designer" who went to Cooper Union, had lived in Williamsburg for 20 years and seemed to be a self-righteous gentrifier. There was also a 20-20yr old Latina, a 50-something Filipino man, a 60-something Polish man and a 50-something Jamaican woman. It was interesting that only 2 of 6 were US-born. A jury of one's peers.

DAY 2:

We were instructed to arrive at 9:30, I rolled in at 9:45 and very anxious. Partially because I didn't want the Jury police on my tail but mostly because I was afraid of getting booted off the Jury and having to wait in that room another day. I entered the holding pen, it was filled with a lot of new people (including my talkative co-worker, by chance) and a lot of people who had been waiting since the day before. I didn't see anyone I recognized from my jury and got anxious for a moment. Once again, I was told to "take a seat." I reheard the instructions on tearing at the perforations. This day I was prepared and had arrived with an issue of Time, one of the Nation and a novel (far trumping the academic non-fiction I had brought the day before.) I waited and waited. I thought for a long time how adult we all were. I mean, obviously we are all adults, but the ability to be told to sit in a chair and wait there for an undetermined amount of time and actually do it... seems like it fights against all of our insticts and is the result of a lifetime of socialization. Waiting and waiting, we were finally called by the bailiff (!) and brought to the courtroom. I felt underdressed. We waited in the jury room some more. We came into the courtroom, everyone stood for us. The trial started. The judge, bailiff and court reporter were all black women, I found this interesting. The Plaintiff testified through an interpreter. His lawyer had a wandering eye and didn't once pronounce his name correctly. The other lawyer was named Barbie. She spoke very preceisely except for referring to us as "youse guys." We kept getting sent in and out of the jury room. The defendant never even showed up. We got another long lunch, I ate turkey on a bagel at the promenade. I saw the interpreter there but wasn't sure if I was allowed to speak to her. We came back to court. Waited some more. Deliberated. I felt bullied by the Polish and Filipino guys, they kept interupting and I wondered if it was a gender thing. Or maybe an age one. Hard to tell. We reached a verdict, the Filipino man was the foreperson. They all said foreman even though the judge said foreperson, maybe it was a gender thing after all. I went home. Democracy.

And I thought my jeans were fancy...

http://www.nytimes.com/2005/04/21/fashion/thursdaystyles/21denim.html?ex=1114747200&en=0601ff6de29cd212&ei=5070

Pearly Whites

Freshman year, I had what is in retrospect an embarrassingly sizable crush on a guy who had big muscles and a great smile. He also had a receding hairline and no emotions, but I didn't really care, blinded as I was by his ear-to-ear grin that revealed a set of beautifully straight, gleaming white teeth. Turned out his dad was a dentist who fitted him with braces as a kid, even though he never needed them, to show off the good doctor's way with a wire.

I spent that first summer home from college being depressed. Partly because I had a demeaning job at an industrial park in Fairfield, New Jersey, partly because I missed my friends from school, and partly because my dentist discovered my first cavity. It was tiny, requiring only the smallest of fillings, but in a family of three kids whose teeth up to that point had always been flawless, the cavity was a blemish on my generation's dental record and a symbol of my weakness, which had already been suggested by my status as the only Sattin kid who needed glasses.

About a year ago I had a short-lived thing for an older guy who was balding and had bad teeth. I couldn't really explain the attraction, and so concluded proudly that at last I had risen above the trappings of appearances. Perhaps due to my own exposure to the Cavity, I had matured to the point where attraction encompassed so much more. Charm. Intelligence. Kindness. Soon I learned that it's not that he had bad teeth, he had no teeth. An unfortunate encounter with a baseball at age 12 doomed him to a life of fake teeth that he would remove during his frequent athletic activities. The first time I saw him without his teeth, my righteous maturity vanished. I was once again 18 and willing to overlook a lack of feelings and sensibility, but not a lack of incisors.

I haven't been to the dentist since 2002, despite my New Year's resolution. Maybe on some level I am trying to punish myself for my superficiality, waiting to go to the dentist until there is something really wrong with my mouth that is too far gone to fix. But hopefully not. See resolution #7 below.

resume builder

My boss says I can’t banter for shit.

Here’s an example of a time when I was called upon to do so. It’s 9:30AM. I’m wearing a skirt with no tights. I fear that the paleness of my skin (veins are visible) may elicit a comment. I walk into his office.

“You’re dressed like you’re about to take an art class.” For some reason this observation of his did not stir within me the need to begin a good-humored back and forth. I had nothing.

I guess I could’ve responded with some attempt at a joke: “Why because my legs are as white as a blank canvas?” Not funny though.

Or maybe he was expecting some sort of sassy come back a la “Yeah well you’re dressed like you just walked out of a meat-head turned Westchester daddy catalogue.” This might get me fired.

It would’ve been fun just to say, “Well, actually I’m dressed for work. This is what I put on when it’s in the 70’s and I’m going to be stuck in an office building all day. I took one drawing class sophomore year in college and never wore anything remotely similar to what I am wearing now. So that’s funny that you think I look like I’m dressed for an art class.”

Maybe the next time he accuses me of being bad at the banter, I can simply refer him to this blog as an example of the kind of dialogue that I find to be satisfying. WHAT ELSE DO YOU HAVE TO DO foreva!

DeLay sucks harder then Hoover

Dear Friend,

I just voted on a billboard slogan at Democracy for America -- they're
buying a billboard near Congressman Tom DeLay's home in Texas to send
a message to the people of his district.

Over 20,000 slogans were submitted, and we're down to the final
thirty. Come cast your vote for the best and send your message to Tom
DeLay!

http://www.democracyforamerica.com/billboard

Thanks!

in the ballpark

People are starting to look younger. This goes for the people I see pushing strollers as well as for Hitler. (Not that old looking of a guy.)

I’m not sure why, but people love to say to me: “It’s inevitable. You’ll turn into your mother and marry your father. Hasn't happened yet? Trust me. Happens to everyone.”

Now I can hear and feel myself turning into my mother. In the ease with which I nag and in the closed-mouth straight smile I give when impatient. (Mostly when dealing with people pushing strollers.) But I’m not dating guys that remind me in any way of my dad.

The guy I’m seeing right now is, however, a lot like my uncle. We were hanging out and all weekend long I was like, “Holy shit- I can’t believe how much he reminds me of my dad’s sister’s husband! This is crazy!”

When I realized that his last name is actually my uncle’s first name, I nearly lost it. What does it all mean? Oh well. I guess I’ll just have to let it play out.

everyone loves napoleon

http://gorillamask.net/flashndsoundboard.shtml

proud to be

July, 1984: My mom spends the fourth of July with me in a McDonalds. She now refers to it as one of the most depressing nights of her entire life.

July, 2004: Nation's Restaurant News lists Quiznos #1 in sandwich chains in terms of U.S. sales growth.

Clearly Quiznos has hit on a profound desire for toasted food. “Mmmm…toasty” is all over their napkins, cups, plastic bags. I feel bad for Subway. The posters advertising the new toasted subs are just so transparent. Even not so nice looking corner delis attempt to gain credibility with signs that say “We have paninis.”

Strange that an unknown can become a standard. I know there was life before Starbucks, but I don't remember it. And even if I don't buy from Starbucks all that frequently, I'm very aware of its dark green presence.

Interestingly enough, the most popular sandwich at Quiznos, until recently, was the Classic Italian. Now it’s the Mesquite Chicken with Bacon. Would anyone reading this order either one of those sandwiches? How is turkey not the most popular? It’s when reading facts like these that I begin to feel even further estranged from my fellow Americans.

Stuff I Will Do Once I Move

1. Reinstate my old good habit of buying groceries and bringing lunch from home, and stop this $8 panini-for-lunch nonsense. Maybe even go so far as to join the Park Slope Food Co-op.
2. Make coffee at home and drink it in the morning before leaving the Dream Apartment, while listening to Morning Edition.
3. Wake up early enough to have time for Resolution #2.
4. Floss.
5. Drink red wine on a daily basis, in order to improve my circulation.
6. Stop paying so many ATM fees.
7. Make appointments with an ophthamologist, a dentist, and a gynocologist.
8. Buy more flowers.
9. Take less Excedrin.

bringing it back to the Ipod

In december of 2004, i received as a gift an IPOD. basically i had been begging for it like a little girl who wants a J.Lo jumpsuit. (the gift i received last year.) i got one, wrapped in a box with cotton fluff and broken headphones. ok, so it was used and bought off craigslist from someone may have stolen it, but it was FINALLY MINE and a more than generous gift. about 650 downloads later, in march of 2005, i dropped it at the gym and it broke. just like that. made a few clicking noises, skipped through about 75 songs, and perished. i don't have any kind of warranty and the ID number is all scratched up (probable cause of that is afore mentioned theft). my question then becomes ---what is the next step? i am worried that IPODs will become to me what sunglasses once were---something i lost, broke, or let someone borrow until it became the other person's rightful possession...and that would become a tremendously expensive habit. possibly even more expensive than getting drunk and handing my check card out like a flyer for a chinese restaurant. maybe i just can't handle things that are both little AND expensive. which sucks because i am SO interested in becoming a rich person who is paid to model diamonds.

New Job Ideas

I was away from the internet yesterday. It was hell. The whole day was kind hell, from the ten hours I spent standing making photo copies to the Ameri-Mex lunch I had at Tequilaville. In my day, though, I encountered a woman with a very interesting job. She works in advertising, trying to get celebrities to appear in public wearing diamonds. This is her JOB. Getting rich people to wear diamonds. My job involves data entry and getting varicose veins from standing for ten hours photocopying. It seems to me like getting celebrities to wear diamonds is like getting babies to poop their pants. Right now, we're young. Most of us are a little direction-less, looking for interesting and fulfilling career paths. Err... a "career path" even. I think we should all pay a little more attention to some cultural needs that, yes, may seem obvious or even like there's no need for someone to cater to them. But please stop and think- if someone can be paid a lot of money to get movie stars in diamonds, why can't I get paid to drink coffee and read novels?

the living word (this is not about christ)

I am a law student. In Constitutional Law, we talk about the "living Constitution." Essentially, this view of the Constitution holds that the meanings of words can morph and change over time. Man means person, the penumbra of privacy means abortion etc.

I've been thinking about words and I've concluded that, even outside the Con Law context, words can have plastic, changing meanings. My friend is going on a 1-year anniversary getaway with her boyfriend. I wished her a good time on her honeymoon. But, wait, she protesteth, we are not married! It cannot be a honeymoon, right? WRONG.

The word honeymoon has expanded beyond its "original" meaning. Honey is delicious. The moon is beautiful. Vacation is fun. Honey. Moon. 2 dear friends on a Spring Break trip to Cuba is a honeymoon. A weekend getaway to San Diego with schoolmates is a honeymoon. Perhaps even an afternoon at Coney Island with acquaintences and friendly strangers is a honeymoon.
As we have grown, so has the meaning of honeymoon. It's much more inclusive this way.

In the spirit of true Constitutional democracy, does anyone have any other suggestions of words whose meanings should change?

all i can afford

This week Time Out New York presented its Eat Out (get it?) Awards. As I live in this fabulous city, I thought I’d offer my two cents on the picks.

The award for Best new Brooklyn restaurant went to the Stone Park Café, which was literally a stone’s throw away (get it?) from where I used to live. I never ate there, but I did hear all the construction that went into building it. So there’s that.

Best perennial (20-plus years and counting) award went to Gotham Bar and Grill. I ate there once because I knew one of the waiters. He insisted on ordering for me. Probably wouldn’t have gone with the venison chop myself, but hey if you’re going to spend over 30 bucks on a meal at least have it be on something your great grandfather reportedly loved.

Worst-kept secret award went to Freemans. I’ve never heard of it. But that makes sense because apparently “anyone who’s ever worn a trucker cap or Uggs spread the word” and for some reason those people rarely give me the heads up. (Would it have killed you to tell me that the L train was out of service!?!? Come on.)

Communicating with your Printer

One thing I really like about the blog is that you don't have to enter a username and password to read it.

I just returned from a morning in Long Island City, where I attended a seminar entitled: "Communicating with your Printer: Effective and Efficient Print Planning." The printer's job is easier if the customer knows what s/he is talking about. A direct quote: "A smart buyer is what we desire." Most of the people there were young women like myself, but there were a few middle-agers and one guy who looked a lot like Gary Sinise and talked just like Lowell from Wings. I learned about the relationship between ink and paper: "It's like two people going on a date. They're independent and have all these individual qualities, but when they get together weird things can happen." For example, the exact same ink color can come out quite differently depending on whether the paper used is "coated" or "uncoated." This phenomenon was illustrated by two different versions of the book jacket to Deepak Chopra's "Ageless Body, Timeless Mind." I also learned that now over 25% of the commercial printers in the U.S. are using ink from soybeans to decrease dependence on petroleum. The latest in paper technology? Cling-z. This is a sheet of thin, electromagnetically charged paper that is manufactured in New Mexico and can stick to any surface--metal, brick, plaster, you name it--without adhesive for at least 3 to 6 months.

The bottom line is that your relationship with your printing company will be most rewarding for all involved parties if you are up front about what you want. Don't wait until a late proof stage before you bring up a change you've been thinking about making in paper stock. A lesson we could all take to heart.

Question

Ok, for those outside New York: Have you seen the KFC commercial saying how you could either spend $8 on dinner at a casual family dining establishment, or buy a bucket of chicken at KFC for an average of $4 per person. 1. Is this effective advertising? 2. Is this true? Can you eat at a casual family dining establishment for $8, including tip (I assume, though you don't have to tip at KFC)???

Point for CA

THIS is a really good reason to keep California in the union.

Living at Home, first time since '99

I think the worst part about living at home is running into other people's moms. These are the mothers of folks who were peripherial friends, the mothers whose daughters I played sports with, and mothers who talk to my mother and seem to know more about me then I do. Its been about six years since I've seen most of these women. And I know I've changed physically. Somehow between my time in Clark Hall and now six years later I aged and look like a woman (I don't usually get IDed, but then again, I am very confident when ordering a beer.) These past six years have taken a toll on these women. They look old and occasionally unrecognizable.

The worst possible place to see a friend's mother is at the Health club. (the health club sucks, its teal and purple.) Unfortunitly, the only time I run into them is in the locker room. The other morning, I walked into the locker room, and there Mrs. ________ in the midst of getting dress with her tits out. Now, I did the whole team shower thing in college and can handle a naked woman like the best of them, but I do not want to have a half hour convo with an older woman I barely know bare breasted. How can she seriously ask me, "What are your plans," with her boobs exposed. This has happened twice now.

The other terrible place is the grocery store. There is only on in our town, so the likelyhood of running into someone is very high. This past weekend I went in to get some stuff for a BBQ, a quick trip. Ran into Mrs. ______ (another Mom) in the checkout line. It was alright until she forced me to wait till she went through and then she took me outside to her car (where her cell phone was, you see people in VT still try to hide their cellphones) and forced me to call her son. Her son lives in Brooklyn, I haven't seen him since sophmore year in college. Luckily, he didn't answer the phone, although I did leave a message. I sort of like knowing that he screened the call from his mother.

OK. So, this is my question, what is worse running into old mothers you kind of know or kids from college that you do know and don't want to see?

Mouth noises

My officemate who is back from a week in Paris (I believe. We don't speak, but I've overheard) is making disgusting noises with her mouth. It sounds like she is gnawing on a chicken bone, with lots of spit. Yesterday, maybe irritated about being back at work, she slammed the door coming and going each time. Reentered the room at one point and said "who touched my desk?!"--real mean and accusatory-like. It was the IT guys trying to install the printer. Those vignettes are tangential, let us return to the bane of my existence, the mouth noise. Whether this is chewing with ones mouth open, wet, gross gum chewing noises, sucking of the teeth, sucking of something else, slurping, whatever. It gives me this weird visceral reaction, blind anger and irrational response/need to flee. This all, of course, can be blamed on my mother who, from an early age, firmly chastised me for "smacking my gum." Not unlike the shape of her eyes, she passed down to me her pet peeve. I first get annoyed which usually quickly turns to anger when I think about how egregious the mouth noise-making is. You think your right to eat carrots trumps mine to watch TV without carrot-chewing? You think everyone on this subway car should be impressed with what a big bubble you can blow? I am livid. In my head, the person is completely aware of how angry and miserable they are making me, intentionally choosing loud chewing over my ability to retain self-control. It becomes a war. Sometimes I leave the room, that side of the subway car. Sometimes I curse them and everyone they've ever met, make dramatic physical threats in my head. Sometimes, also in my head, I just say disparaging things about the way they were raised and their entire value system. It's amazing how close gum smackers can come to raping bigoted conservativechristian republican miserly monstrous ugly stupid nazis.
I was feeling a little crazy about all of this until reading in my subscription copy of FHM magazine about some musician who cites as one of 5 influences that produced his new album, his annoyance with mouth noises. People like me can be famous. I then decided to be pro-active about it and wanted to make stickers to post in the subways. They would be a cartoon of a mom, in rollers and a housedress. Like in the comic strip Sylvia and she'd be saying "Chew with your mouth closed!" So people could look around the train and remember their manners. Then again, people don't give up seats to pregnant ladies or old people and there are signs about that...Now I date someone who shares my hate of mouth noises, we can commiserate about the inappropriateness of other people. Unfortunately, he one-ups me and also detests chair-kickers. This is troublesome as I feel myself adopting the stance of that peeve, too. I can't handle another one. Motherfucking dirty stinking bigfooted ugly hateful klansmen....

Thailand, Utah, Europe

Tallison, these folks are Mormon missionaries. Notice how they tried to sneak in Utah between Thailand and Europe. You would be teaching the next generation of Brigham Youngs and Elizabeth Smarts. And travelling all over the world to make Thai Buddhists and French Algerian Muslims into good little Latter day saints.

Stick with San Fran...traffic tickets are nothing compared to religious fanaticism.

BREAKING NEWS!!

I have been thinking about imagination lately. And how funny it is to think back on what you used to believe. Some of them are silly things adults try to convince you of- you want curly hair? Eat your crusts, it makes your hair curly. Want straight hair? Crusts will work for that, too. Anyway, this news piece kind of reminded me of something a kid would think up. Though a kind of disturbed kid.

Man Living in Closet Charged With Murder
NASHVILLE, Tenn. - A man was beaten to death after catching his wife's lover living in a closet in their home, police said Tuesday. Rafael DeJesus Rocha-Perez, 35, was charged with homicide in the slaying of 44-year-old Jeffrey A. Freeman over the weekend. "From time to time, you come across a case with very unique — even bizarre — circumstances," police spokesman Don Aaron said. "This one probably rates right up there with them." Freeman's wife had allowed
Rocha-Perez to live in a closet of the Freemans' four-bedroom home for about a month without her husband's knowledge, police said. On Sunday, her husband heard Rocha-Perez snoring and discovered him, authorities said. Freeman ordered his wife to get the man out of the house while he went for a walk, authorities said. Martha Freeman told authorities that when her husband returned, Rocha-Perez confronted him with a shotgun, forced him into a bathroom and bludgeoned him. The Freemans were co-owners of a company that does background checks for
apartment rental and job applicants.

britney spears inspiration

i would like to let you know that i am posting because i have been threatened. i am not at liberty to disclose who threatened me, but it was not britney spears. i read this quote the other day and feel that it could be the seed of a truly fascinating blog-versation.

'Spears said that journalists who write false or maliciousarticles about her and her husband were either frustrated because they are: 50 pounds overweight, because their children are acting up orbecause their partners are cheating on them."Until you face what is going on in your life, I guess you'll remain a false tabloid," the angry pop diva said.'

Comments anyone? Also, I have requested that Moira BXXXX be invited to join our communal blog. I hope this pleases the court. I feel that east coast schools are dominating the conversation and that Manifest Destiny was a good thing and we ought to cheer on our western (Occidental) brothers and sista.

Welcome, Ms. BXXXX. I hope to share a virtual beer with you soon and discuss ways to overcome being false tabloids.

AM

"Hey can I look at your CD's?" I always hated that question. I tried to convince myself it was just being used as an ice breaker. The question made no sense to me because most of the time it was asked when there was no music playing device in sight. Why must I be judged?

BREAKING NEWS

A coworker has just informed me that President Bush’s playlist for his i-pod has been released to the public. He is rapidly being judged. Caitlin Moran of the London Times noted: "No black artists, no gay artists, no world music, only one woman, no genre less than 25 years old, and no Beatles."

Man, it is amazing that whole life imitating art imitating life thing. Truly amazing because in this scenario, my blog is the art.

I can't help but wonder (thank you Sex and the City) if technology has enabled us to distance ourselves from the music we listen to. When you don't purchase the whole CD, but simply download one song off of the album it seems like much less of a statement.

There are many ways nowadays to listen to music without it being a commitment. Yesterday I created my own radio station through launchcast.com and suprised myself by playing it while at work. Should anyone turn to me and say "Counting Crows...are you kidding" I could simply explain "Yo, not my doing. This thing picks songs it thinks I might like based on my other selections."

When Stan Getz came on this morning, I could see my coworkers gearing up with: “What is this Kenny G shit?” But really it didn’t matter. Stan Getz is what my first boyfriend played while we made out. And as it turns out, I care more about the musical tastes of an ex than those of the people I know now.

Ciara’s “Roll Wit’ It” from the Coach Carter soundtrack just made its way onto my radio sation. I’m not taking questions. Just listening with the self-satisfaction of a parent driving to the oldies.

Funny Face

Jaedene Levy, left, and Jill Scharff wrote "The Facelift Diaries," which BookSurge published.

They sure did.

First iPod

This article actually answers a lot of questions I've had and discussed with various folks.

NY Times:
White House Letter: President Bush's iPodBy
ELISABETH BUMILLER
April 11, 2005

WASHINGTON
Between his return on Friday from Pope John Paul II's funeral in Rome and his meeting today with Prime Minister Ariel Sharon of Israel, President Bush spent an hour and a half on Saturday on an 18-mile mountain bike ride at his Texas ranch. With him, as usual, was his indispensable new exercise toy: an iPod music player loaded with country and popular rock tunes aimed at getting the presidential heart rate up to a chest-pounding 170 beats per minute.
Which brings up the inevitable question. What, exactly, is on the First iPod? In an era of celebrity playlists - Tom Brady, the New England Patriots quarterback, recently posted his on the iTunes online music store - what does the presidential selection of downloaded songs tell us about Mr. Bush?
First, Mr. Bush's iPod is heavy on traditional country singers like George Jones, Alan Jackson and Kenny Chesney. He has selections by Van Morrison, whose "Brown Eyed Girl" is a Bush favorite, and by John Fogerty, most predictably "Centerfield," which was played at Texas Rangers games when Mr. Bush was an owner and is still played at ballparks all over America. ("Oh, put me in coach, I'm ready to play today.")
The president also has an eclectic mix of songs downloaded into his iPod from Mark McKinnon, a biking buddy and his chief media strategist during the 2004 campaign. Among them are "Circle Back" by John Hiatt, "(You're So Square) Baby, I Don't Care" by Joni Mitchell and "My Sharona," the 1979 song by the Knack that Joe Levy, a deputy managing editor at Rolling Stone in charge of music coverage, cheerfully branded "suggestive if not outright filthy" in an interview last week.
Mr. Bush has had his Apple iPod since July, when he received it from his twin daughters as a birthday gift. He has some 250 songs on it, a paltry number compared to the 10,000 selections it can hold. Mr. Bush, as leader of the free world, does not take the time to download the music himself; that task falls to his personal aide, Blake Gottesman, who buys individual songs and albums, including Mr. Jones's and Mr. Jackson's greatest hits, from the iTunes music store.
Mr. Bush uses his iPod chiefly during bike workouts to help him pump up his heartbeat, which he monitors with a wrist strap. The strap also keeps track of calories expended for the intensely weight-focused president, who has recently lost eight pounds after eating a lot of doughnuts during the 2004 campaign. Mr. Bush burned 1,300 calories on his bike ride on Saturday, Mr. McKinnon reported.
As for an analysis of Mr. Bush's playlist, Mr. Levy of Rolling Stone started out with this: "One thing that's interesting is that the president likes artists who don't like him."
Mr. Levy was referring to Mr. Fogerty, who was part of the anti-Bush "Vote for Change" concert tour across the United States last fall. Mr. McKinnon, who once wrote songs for Kris Kristofferson's music publishing company, responded in an e-mail message that "if any president limited his music selection to pro-establishment musicians, it would be a pretty slim collection."
Nonetheless, Mr. McKinnon said that Mr. Bush had not gone so far as to include on his playlist "Fortunate Son," the angry anti-Vietnam war song about who has to go to war that Mr. Fogerty sang when he was with Creedence Clearwater Revival. ("I ain't no senator's son ... Some folks are born silver spoon in hand.") As the son of a two-term congressman and a United States Senate candidate, Mr. Bush won a coveted spot with the Texas Air National Guard to avoid combat in Vietnam.
Meanwhile, Mr. Levy sized up the rest of the playlist of the 58-year-old president. "What we're talking about is a lot of great artists from the 60's and 70's and more modern artists who sound like great artists from the 60's and 70's," he said. "This is basically boomer rock 'n' roll and more recent music out of Nashville made for boomers. It's safe, it's reliable, it's loving. What I mean to say is, it's feel-good music. The Sex Pistols it's not."
Mr. Jones, Mr. Levy said, was nonetheless an interesting choice. "George Jones is the greatest living singer in country music and a recovering alcoholic who often sings about heartbreak and drinking," he said. "It tells you that the president knows a thing or two about country music and is serious about his love of country music."
The songs by Mr. Jackson indicate that the president "has a little bit of a taste for hard core and honky-tonk," Mr. Levy said, adding that both Mr. Jackson and Mr. Jones "are not about cute and pop, and they're not getting by on their looks." And while Mr. Chesney "is about cute and pop and gets by on his looks," Mr. Levy said, "he's also all about serious country music."
Mr. McKinnon, who has downloaded "Castanets" by Alejandro Escovedo and "Alive 'N' Kickin' " by Kenny Loggins into Mr. Bush's iPod, said that sometimes a presidential playlist is just a playlist, nothing more.
"No one should psychoanalyze the song selection," Mr. McKinnon said. "It's music to get over the next hill."

Pinko Commie Bastards

This little quiz was in the Metro this morning, you are supposed to answer the
statements "never," "sometimes," or "often."
1. I find it hard to get out of bed in the morning.
2. I'm late for work.
3. Once I arrive at work, it takes me awhile to actually get started working.
4. I sit at my desk and daydream.
5. I have less patience with customers and coworkers than I used to.
6. I spend time at work doing personal tasks.
7. I look at job Web sites on the internet while I am at work.
8. I get impatient with rules and red tape at work.
9. I take longer breaks than I should.
10. When I need to phone people as part of my job, I spend more time chatting than I need to.
11. I feel tired during the workday.
12. I don't bother mentioning concerns to the boss because its usually a waste of time.
13. If I leave the office during the day, I take my time getting back to work.
14. I do the minimum amount of work required.
15. I check the time throughout the day to
see how close to quitting time it is.
16. I feel bored at work.
17. I "kill time" during the day by chatting with co-workers or doing other
non-essential tasks.

18. I schedule medical and other personal appointments during working hours.
19. I start getting ready to leave before quitting time.
20. I am out the door as soon as it is quitting time.
21. On the weekends, I look at the job classifieds or surf job sites on the internet.
22. I called in sick when I actually could have worked.
23. I complain to my friends about my job.
24. I have trouble sleeping on Sunday nights because I'm thinking about having to go back to work.
25. When I'm on holidays, I dread going back to work.
0 points for each "never" answer, 1 point for "sometimes" and 2 points for "often."
0-10: Very satisfied.
11-20: Somewhat satisfied.
21-30: Somewhat dissatisfied.
31-40: Very dissatisfied.
41-50: Why are you still working there?

Now call me cynical, but 90% or those seem to me things inherently sucky in having a job. Granted, I don't have an extensive work history nor am I a professional. But I have been working pretty consistently for almost 8 years, in a variety of fields- from the bagel and espresso business to childcare to the post office to law in various forms, and I don't think I ever run across a coworker who would score "very satisfied" on this quiz. This leaves me only one possible explanation- it was planted in the Metro by Communists so we would see how miserable we are under the Capitalist system and REVOLT. Power-to-the-people.... god, works sucks.

LIGHT!

I am a convert to the daylight savings fan club every spring, its enemy in the fall...
And so, I think this is AMAZING and probably the best thing this Congress has done yet.

Maybe I just have really good taste in people.

And by people I mean friends, not men. I have proven to have pretty horrible taste in men. But my question is: How did women end up with this reputation for being needy, clingy, mysterious, mind-game-playing drama queens? In my admittedly limited experience, it is men who get caught up in over-analyzing things and sending mixed messages and needing to talk about everything and not being able to "deal" or just take things as they come. Sometimes they blame it on being confused and not knowing what they want. I spend most of my time being confused and I have no idea what I really want, but I take that for granted and it doesn’t really bother me. Sometimes they chalk it up to “bad experience” with women or refer to some girl who “really screwed me up.” We all have bad experiences, and yes, some of them are worse than others, but I and most of the women I surround myself with—the other contributors to this blog, my mother—are somehow naturally able to just deal. We get upset and we cry and sometimes we never get over it, but we deal. I don't know who these girls are that give the rest of us a bad name.

Rules Girl

So its not really that I think I have anything to add about September 11th, or even the WTC. I didn't live in New York at the time and it has been written about extensively by much smarter and much better writers. But I was reflecting on it this morning, stealing 5 minutes between the subway and entering the World Financial Center complex.
I was inhaling pages of Jonathan Safran Foer's new book, in which the main character's father died in the World Trade Center and sitting across the street from Ground Zero. Three and half years and I don't know what to make of it. My stomach turns walking around here during lunch, lots of groups of teens in matching outfits from somewhere else in the country, wearing matching windbreaker outfits. Overweight families, also from out of town, posing for photos in front of the site (is this going to be your Christmas card?) Some just quiet folks, coming down to check it out. Which I understand.
This strange memorial has been erected on the south side of the site, right before the pedestrian bridge over the West Side Highway that delivers me to World Financial Center One. It is made up of lanyard keychains that say "USA" attached to plastic covered photos. There is a mass of rainbow colored paper cranes that remind me of my own elementary school class' unit on Nagasaki and Hiroshima. The original cranes were made by a young girl's, Sadako's, class. Supposedly if you make a thousand, you are granted one wish. And Sadako was dying from Leukemia from the radiation of the A-bomb. In the story she dies anyway, falling short of the thousand cranes. Thinking back its a sad story and kind of a futile origami exercise. And really not a very good lesson for young children who are supposed to be being taught about miracles and the power of positive thought. Then again, I did go to some hippie schools.
Anyway, sitting there this morning I felt awkward about reading that book there. I read of review of the book that said we may not be far enough past 9/11 to be cute about it, but if anyone can be cute about it, it's Foer. I kind of realized that I don’t know the rules when it comes to 9/11. In research for my senior essay, I read something about how there are various approaches to who gets the place of privilege in traumatic events. This is a dangerous question, though because if only those directly affected are allowed to dictate the terms and meaning of the event, it stops being applicable to the larger group. On the other hand, clearly September 11th did not affect every American to the same degree. But the rallying cries afterward would have us believe that the attack was on all of us and we were all victims. Still, when people ask me, as a middle-aged couple did yesterday, "where is the observation deck?" I, first of all, have no idea what they're talking about and second, want to scream at them,
"What the FUCK do you think this is, a fucking brewery? An operating room? Niagara Falls?"
But the fact remains that I don’t know the rules, I don't know my place in relation to the event in relation to that couple. I don’t know who decides what's inappropriately cute or when the time has come to be cute. And so, because of this uncertainty, I hid the cover of my book, finished the chapter and went inside.

strange patterns

HAS anyone else noticed yourself doing this? when entering a new situation (say, you're in week 3 of a new job) you immediately adapt and cling to patterns that are, really, kind of arbitrary. For example, every morning now, I take my travel mug to the coffee kiosk (everyone else uses styrofoam, which confuses me since I thought we were over that.) Wash it. The coffee machine is the kind that takes those little white units that kind of look like oversized creamers full of coffee and makes a cup at a time. But one cup is only half of my travel mug. So now I use one "Dark Magic" whic is described as "spellbinding" and one "Nantucket Blend," "distinctively complex." And it tastes fine.

The beginning of something beautiful...

This blog is new communal project. Contributors are funny, smart friends with something to say about pretty much anything. And guests welcome...