A Middling Work of Self-Involved Platitudes

John Updike

2009-01-27T14:17:00.002-06:00

I will now speak ill of the dead. Sorry.
I don't care for John Updike's writing. At all. A&P is one of the many reasons I don't really and truly care for fiction. I read it when I was thirteen, in my freshman English class, and I was not pleased. It really left me cold.
That being said, I hope that we can all agree that his was a life well lived and I offer my condolences to his family today.

Acquired: Ironic Travel Mug

2008-08-02T22:38:00.002-05:00

See! Brooklyn does have a sense of humor!
Purchased at a fancy pants kitchen supply store on Lorimer near Metropolitan that also had a really cute dog.

But seriously, if I ask the guy at the cart outside the F train to fill up my fake paper cup, do you think he will? Alternately, how long until someone gets drunk and throws it away after a dinner party?

Foot!

2008-06-23T15:30:00.002-05:00

I broke my foot. If ever there were a reason to be and stay an indoor kid, this is it. I mean, it's just a stress fracture, but man, it's a pain in the bum (or foot).

Here is the beast, in its soft cast:

48 Hours To and From St. Louis, Second Verse

2008-04-22T12:34:00.003-05:00

It was similar to the first, and delightfully worse!

Friday:

On three hours sleep, please, my friends, go to Laguardia Airport on Passover weekend. It will crack you up. I have never seen so many people going home, so many white, blonde people going to Aruba, nor have I have ever been that late to the airport without running into serious bad luck. God was on my side.

Nap.

Rental car. Now, I am not a car person, nor do I like to drive. But I love the rental car. I love that it wasn't that expensive, and they still guilted me into buying the extra insurance. It was a machine and I still felt bad. Near fatal car accidents do put the fear of God into you, I suppose. But still.

Drive to Broham's new house, which despite being full of vaguely offensive college items was very cute. Went for a sandwich, and got fixings for lamb curry and the fancy supermarket that looks like it was built in a mansion. Clayton, which is both a suburb of St. Louis, and remarkably like a second downtown in the really rich neighborhood, is weird. But it's okay. Watched so much 30 Rock we thought we might explode, and then watched some more. Cooked. Napped.

Out to dinner with several of Broham's sweet college friends. I felt exceedingly old, but I was so happy to not be afraid of getting carded. Actually, every time I got carded this weekend, it just made me feel worse about how old I am. But that's another story.

Saturday:

Wake up late!

Cardinal's game! The ebst deal in town is these standing room only seats in Busch Stadium where you just sit in folding chairs behind the bleachers. Wonderful. Beautiful stadium and nice folks. Everyone in St. Louis is so friendly. We had food and sat and then.....Jonny came to meet us! In a true homage to St. Louis Road Trip I, The Quinn came all the way from Chicago to explore the magic of the Lou. Also, Broham and I invented a tee-shirt about St. Louis that involves Nelly, Lewis and Clark and the Arch.

Speaking of which, our next move was to the Museum of the Westward Expansion, where we went up in the Arch. The Arch is so cool. Did you know that it is as wide at the base as it is tall? Yes, it is the world's largest optical illusion (it's an illusion, Michael; a trick is something whores do for money!)!! So awesome. I also may have bought a Laura Ingalls Wilder themed cookbook.

Home, nap.

Dinner at Bar Celona, a cute tapas place in Clayton (which is within walking distance of Forsyth, for all you lazy Wash U kids out there). Delicious food, sweet waitress who loved us and two bottles of wine! Oops! Also, there was a party of potential professional athletes and the women who wear inappropriate clothes for them. It was amazing. One could actually see a girls' thong through her dress, which I though was impossible/the point of thongs. We loved them. They did not see us.

Then we did a little Clayton Bar Hop, which was so cute. Clayton is weird, but there were several cute places. Also, the beer in St. Louis is not all Budweiser. There are several excellent breweries locally and they usually have lots of good Midwestern beers. Take that, beer snobs.

(The rest of the night involved crazy college times that made me want to go to bed and be old.)

Sunday:
Wake up late!

Brunch at Soulard Coffee Co? Jon and I went there the last time we were in the Lou, and it is so cute. We sat outside for brunch. It was really nice. We Then took a walk around Soulard and saw St. Louis' oldest standing home. I would totally run a multi-use arts space in Soulard, which is also the site of St. Louis' Mardi Gras.

Then it was quick trip to the Schnuck's and home to pack and run to the airport. I got lost, despite the iPhone maps and directions. I am an idiot. It's funny. Then I was massively late but my plane was delayed by the Pope's visit to NYC airspace.

Home. Chinese food. Sleeping.

I love the Lou.

Bar Celona: http://barcelonatapas.com/
Museum of the Westward Expansion: http://www.nps.gov/archive/jeff/expansion_museum.html

Form vs. Function: The Rain Flat

2007-12-10T11:23:00.000-06:00

I am not sure how I feel about this show, other than confounded. As a firm believer in the awesome power of the gallosh, I want to love the rain flat. And then I consider that it will not keep me dry or warm in the toes. I shake my head and wonder...

Dan Rather; man or superman?

2007-12-09T23:06:00.000-06:00

From an article in the December 3rd issue of New York magazine:

"Rather’s shock turned to quiet fury. He stalked the offices, barely acknowledging staffers in the hallways. People referred to this mode as “Defcon 4.” “He got progressively, visually angry,” says a former colleague. “You don’t want to be in his eyesight when he’s like that.” His only release was commiserating on the phone late at night with Mary Mapes; he would announce himself as “Dan Rather, plus three”—meaning he’d had three glasses of bourbon."

Amazing. I grew up with Dan Rather on the CBS Evening news. He is truly, for me, a source of incontrovertible truth. And now, I love him even more. Plus 3.

10 Second Sitcoms

2007-12-07T12:11:00.000-06:00

Thank you, Tina Fey, for this great idea.

We have invented a new TV show called "Smug Marrieds" about Heidi and Dave.

Here is the Pilot:

"Dave!"
"Yes, dear."
"We need to give money to Barack Obama!"
"What we need is a new ottoman."
"Oh, honey."
(laugh track)

Fin.

So everyone should have a 10 second sitcom. None of these have names, except Melanie's which is called "Unconsentual Goodtimes."

"Guys, I am so hungover!"
"Oh, Melanie."

The end.

"Guys, I am totally gay.
"We know, Jon!"

The end.

"Guys, Chad has a giant beard."
"Oh, Fliz!"

The end.

Anna: Art's pretty rad!

Us: Totes!

The end.
(by Jon)

Ice; or Sadness Embodied

2007-12-07T11:59:00.002-06:00

As we approach middle age, there are some life lessons we have come to appreciate. Don't drink the Whole Thing, staying out until 4 a.m. makes it hard to wake up at 8 a.m. and go to work, use sunscreen.

What they don't teach you in your financial aid exit interview or similar faux-adult rite of passage is that you should not fall down on a patch of ice. Ever. It is like automatically adding 5 years to your age. My back is a jangly jangle of knots and sharp pains, I cut my hand. It's almost too sad.

While I know that this is an isolated and violent experience that does not actually signify my decent into elderliness, I feel somehow that this is a harbinger of things to come. What will happen, for example, if I tried to go to the gym? or hike a mountain? or live through 2.5 weeks at home for Christmas*? I could die. I could be laid up for weeks, unable to move, or make jokes, or watch 30 Rock on nbc.com.

Good God, this life is a cruel one.

* kidding, hi parents!

For a While Now...

2007-12-07T11:59:00.001-06:00

this has been coming:

Song of the Day
All I want for Christmas is You - Mariah Carey

Jingle Bell Rock; or Conceding to the Elements

2007-12-04T15:45:00.001-06:00

Dear Citizen,

Oh, the humnaity! It is cold, dark and amp. You have been forced to stay at work late, and now theskies are black with the angry clouds of your unjust life. I must go home in what, you say? But I wore suede fashion sneakers to work! I only wore my midweight coat, and it is not water proof.

And so I say unto you, fighter, concede. Though you will slosh your way through the throngs of other similarly irritated, irrational and singleminded hubbub members, you will keep your Eyes on the Prize (oh, Lord, oh, Lord). You will have tacos, or Indian feast depending on who I am talking about right now.

Do it. Do it for you, but do it also for freedom.

Love,
Ann Marie

Song of the Day

2007-12-04T13:43:00.000-06:00

It's Tie!!!

1. Winter Wonderland - Eurythmics
1. Christmas Is - Run D.M.C.
3. Blue Christmas - The Beach Boys

Foundation ASAP

2007-12-04T13:39:00.001-06:00

Helping Artists To Embrace Fashion, Color and Kindness (HATE FCK) will enable young artists to look good and feel good about themselves while pursuing their craft in today's increasingly competitive marketplace. Image is Everything.

> > > > > On Dec 4, 2007 2:26 PM, Anna wrote:
> > > > > > i need some shorter hairs! do we think i can get a grant for a
> > > > > > haircut? someone, start that foundation asap!

Theater is not Dead; or A Night Away From Cable

2007-11-28T14:39:00.001-06:00

Truly, the Wooster Group's Hamlet is an absolute revelation. It was so beautiful, and weird, funny, and totally thought-provoking. I was absolutely enthralled for the entire 3 hours. It was phenomenal. The level of technical accomplishment, detail, care and dedication in the production was truly inspiring.

Christmas Song of the Day: Rocking Around the Christmas Tree

Today's Song of the Day

2007-11-27T15:39:00.001-06:00

Jingle Bell Rock, heard twice in the space of 2.5 hours.

Cyber Monday

2007-11-26T15:39:00.000-06:00

Today is the day that all the people in the world too lazy to get our of the house on Black Friday buy their Christmas presents online. Though this seems to be a figment of the e-shopping industry's vivid and captivating imagination, I will wait until tomorrow to buy myself something on the web. Take that, The Man. I am the master of my universe.

At workstudy job (formerly known as eat-cake-and-play-on-the-internet-job), the Christmas songs have replaced our traditional light rock.

Christmas Song of the Day: Blue Christmas by Elvis Presley.

Free Cell: several wins, including two that were practically stalemated.

Final Projects completed: 1. (2 to go!)

18 Hours in Astoria; or An Excercise in Excess

2007-11-25T14:31:00.000-06:00

Part One: Greek Feast

In the spirit of excess that characterized America's holiday of thankfulness and sharing, I was overcome by a desire to eat ethnic foods. On Friday night, Margo and I had burritos. So Saturday night was naturally the night that I was struck with an overwhelming urge for Greek food. I tried to find a place in Manhattan, but everywhere I looked was expensive and needed a reservation. Manhattan. You old so and so, you'll never change. So to Astoria we went.

Astoria is kind of the best. I will admit that I am thinking of moving there once my magical tenure in the dorm is through. I love all the Greek stuff, the old ladies in the park, the whole scene. Also, one time, I saw a girl at brunch wearing my exact same plaid shirt from H&M. It was such a magical moment.

So on the recommendation of Peter, our Astoria resident and Greek Feast supporter, we walked over to Broadway and went to Ethos. It was so good. We had skordalia (a whipped potato and garlic dip) with beets and fried eggplant, Greek salad and saganaki. It was delicious. we also split a nice bottle of white wine from Santorini. All told, a fantastic meal. And, because we are beautiful, we got special dessert on the house.

Part Two: Astoria Pub Crawl

Peter, our Astoria tour guide and generally fun graduate student about New York, met us for a drink at the surprisingly sweet and undeniably hip Crescent Lounge. This place is cute. Like a living room. And we were sitting on this couch across from a man (I think) who was napping in an armchair and occasionally sipping from a glass of either sangria or red wine with ice. In the bathroom, which featured an adorable vintage dresser and good smelling soap, there was a vase full of New York City condoms. Although they had "sold out" in a matter of weeks, there were still plenty in Queens. Which was funny to us. These are not condoms to be used, but rather to be saved and cherished. There was also educational literature, which I will save along with my "So You Have Mono: What Now?" pamphlet that I got at the Columbia Student Health Center. Being informed is so important.

Our next stop, an Irish bar on Broadway that had Stella Artois on tap for less than $5 a pint. Magic! Additionally, they had erotic photo hunt. The team of Peter, Margo and myself got three of the top ten high scores. Peter and Margo in particular take the game seriously and are gifted players. We are considering buying an erotic photo hunt machine for personal use.

Part Three: Sleeping in a pile in a bathtub

I made enemies with Peter's neighbor because I closed the door to his apartment too loudly. Our three intrepid fun-seekers took ourselves to the couch at Peter's house, and quickly realized that Greek Feast had turned into Saturday Night Extravaganza. Then there was sleeping until 2 PM. I had homework due at 12 noon! Good lord! I was reminded of my days when I played softball and would stay out all night drinking Stella and stay in bed until 3 in the afternoon because I was so wrecked. On the way home on the N, there was this way cute girl who was wearing a cute hat and some great boots. Also, I stood on the 1 next to a man who was singing to himself the entire trip, which was, needless to say unpleasant. To quote Margo, "Don't they know who I am?"

Part Four: Lessons

1. Greek Feast is amazing, and will be repeated; also skordalia is the best
2. Astoria is great, even though it is so far from Manhattan and can be directionally disorienting for snobby Manhattanites
3. Beer is not for the faint of heart and should be entered into soberly and with the fear of God
4. Russian guys spit on the sidewalk a lot
5. Erotic photo hunt of never about the nipples

And those were our 18 Hours in Astoria.

A Thanksgiving Tale 2: The Reckonning

2007-11-23T20:21:00.000-06:00

A Thanksgiving Tale

2007-11-23T20:15:00.000-06:00

A young woman sits under a great elm tree, reading. She is quiet and serene.

She puts down her book, and looks up into the sky.

"I know what I am meant to be," she says simply, placing the book in her lap. "A Horsewoman."

Fin.

NEVER travel on Thanksgiving; an open letter

2007-11-21T19:36:00.000-06:00

Dear Thanksgiving:

Every person I talk to about the holiday tries to give me the same advice I have been living for years: Don't travel on Thanksgiving. Living in the Midwest, it was always the time when it finally snowed and everything was a disaster. Now, living in New York, the idea of going anywhere near LaGuardia (or JFK, or Newark) makes me want to hurl. This is not the NyQuil talking people. This is real. I say to the people of the United States: stay where you are! If we created a mass movement of staying the f*ck home, we wouldn't all hate each other so damn much.

Also, it might make the After Thanksgiving sales at Macy's and other fine institutions of fashion easier. I don't have any money, but if I did, wouldn't it be nice if 97 million people hadn't just flown in from Florida.

So, truly, Thanksgiving, tell the people the secret that you and I know for sure. Stay home! And keep it real close to home. That's why God invented Skype and cell phones and Chinese food. And friends!

Anyway, Thanksgiving, you know I love you, I'm probably just bitter. But it's mainly because I cannot find whole unshelled walnuts to bring to sweet Margo tomorrow, and I have failed as a family friend. Also, I got a new dress that isn't quite what I thought it would be. I thought it was navy, but it is more of a purple. I should know better than to order stuff half off at Jcrew. After all these years. Truly.

So here is a list of killer things one can do at home for YOU that will make your life better and keep the skies clear:
Learn how to cook a turkey
Get drunk on Wednesday night and sleep in on Thursday morning
eat until you die
watch all the TV in the history of time
download music illegally from the internet
inappropriate phone calls to long lost friends and relatives
reading all those magazines that you never have time for
learn to crochet
adopt a pet
write on a blog
have a cold
discuss politics with the dad of a friend of yours you don't know that well
see a movie
go to a museum you've never seen before
revel in the loveliness of your new SmartWool socks
have a nap in the midafternoon during the course of which you dream about a tall blond man
internet shop
fight terrorism with your love of freedom (ongoing effort)

Keep it real, Thanksgiving! You are such a good holiday!

Love,
Nyquil Marie

This One Time, we talked about putting this on the Internet

2007-11-20T22:17:00.000-06:00

I was in Chicago last weekend, and an old joke was resurrected, much to my delight.

How can you combine people's names and the names of countries to create hilarious hybrids?

Like this:
Ann Mariethiopia
The Seanited Arab Emirates
Elizabethuania
Chad
Miguel Salvador
MargOman

Seriously, this is a fun game! Try it at home! It's almost as fun as playing 'Foreign or Gay' at Charles De Gaulle or a game we invented in Arts in Context class called "Is it an art or a craft?" This game is based loosely on the book Art Worlds by Howard Becker. In the game, you determine if an object (or even an auteur) is an art or a craft based on basic differentiators like the usefulness of the object, or the education status of its creator. Who knew?

I need to learn how to put pictures on this blog. So I can show kids from high school my baby and how thin I am compared to when I was 17! Suckers!

When One Has a Cold

2007-11-20T21:59:00.000-06:00

One is forced, when one is sick, to consider the many things that would make one feel better.

A short list:
Roast Beef, truly
a bath
an uninterupted night of sleep
a Law and Order marathon that didn't have a majority of episodes I have already seen
shoes
a deep friendship with Alton Brown of the Cooking channel
a large chair in which to sit and read
the metabolism of a 5 year old boy
a $120 Air-O-Swiss ultrasonic combination humidifier
the love of a good man
peaches, strawberries, chicken soup, Vitamin C tablets and juice
an unadulterated love of situps and other exercise
a manicure and pedicure

A Short Play on the Nature of Workplace Frustration

2007-11-20T17:49:00.000-06:00

Names have been altered to protect the innocent and point unwavering fingers at the guilty.

Kallie, Bibby and Elizabeth appear onstage, lit by a swinging naked bulb, sitting around a Formica table. There is tons of smoke, though none of the women are actually smoking. The table is covered in papers, maps, colored pieces of paper, and other detritus.

They work furiously, throwing away crumpled notes, muttering to themselves. The chaos starts to build as they are obviously overcome by frustration. A high pitched whir, like a fan, but more metallic and awful sounding begins to consume the stage.

The fan becomes a whirring squeal.

Bibby stands, faces forward, throws her fist in the air.

Bibby: I am Citizenship! I take pride in my community and hope that it grows stronger every day! I accomplish this goal by yelling inappropriately at my coworkers and doing crappy plays about lesbians in Mike Berg's living room.

Elizabeth stands, faces forward, first in the air.

Elizabeth: I am Ensemble! I hope to embody the community and live each day as a member of the fabric of the America dream!

Kallie stand, turns forward, first in the air.

Kallie: I am Innovation! I look backwards, to the past, to make sure that we tread over meticulously plotted ground. I believe that our elders know best, that children should be seen and not heard, and I like to tell people that I sew my own clothes, even though I buy most of them at Anthropology!

A silence. As Kallie speaks these next lines, Elizabeth and Bibby come over and try to support her as the is obviously about to fall over (she could be drunk, or just on a boat, it doesn't really matter). Every time Kallie almost falls over, Elizabeth and Bibby catch her, and it causes physical pain.

Kallie: I am Innovation! I am satisfied by nothing more than the status quo! I am innovation! I teach my children to beg from their father so I never have to make difficult decisions. I am innovation! I steal from the break room instead of buying my own lunches. I am innovation! I like Green Day. I am innovation! I am innovation! I am innovation!

Two more women enter and begin to throw popcorn, or maybe stones, at the three women. They are Pimberly and Tobin. They laugh and laugh, as they throw more at the three women. Somehow Elizabeth, Kallie and Bibby become buried in popcorn or stones or something.

A women walks by. She is The Boss.

The boss: Can one of you get me a Diet Coke?

Fin.

Stuffing, y'all

2007-11-20T17:36:00.000-06:00

Super Delicious Stuffing recipe that my mom borrowed from James beard, and that I forced her to add cranberries to when I was 10 because I was/am obsessed with dried cranberries.

2 batches cornbread, 2 days old, crumbled
I large onion, minced
8 cloves garlic, minced
2 C celery, sliced
1 stick butter
1/2- 1 lb mushrooms, any type, sliced (optional)
2 T fresh thyme (and other herbs, if you want)
1 bunch parsley, minced
2 C cooked wild rice
1/2- 1 C pine nuts, toasted
2 t salt
several grinds black pepper
1- 2 C dried cranberries
1 ounce dried porcini, soaked in hot water (save water)

Sautee the vegetables in the butter, adding the mushrooms last.
Combine w/ the rest of the ingredients. Moisten with the porcini water
as necessary, taking care not to pour in the sandy bits at the bottom.
Bake covered at 325 for 45-60 minutes. Uncover last 15 minutes if you
want the top toasted.
This makes a vegetarian dressing.

Thanksgiving, AMWOSIP style

2007-11-20T17:33:00.000-06:00

Okay, here's a stab at it:

you have a Kosher bird, so I don;t think you need to brine.

This is what I usually do, and you can add or take away whatever you want based on taste.

(what I told you about the other day was making an herb butter and spreading it under the skin, wherein you take herbs, salt, pepper and a stick of butter, mash together until they are soft and evenly mixed, and then put the butter mixture under the skin of the breast. Hee. Then, using your fingers, you massage the butter so that it gets under all the skin of the breast and will baste the turkey under the skin.)

Take your bird, rinse it and pat dry with paper towels. then salt and pepper the inside cavity, and throw a sachet of herbs including hella garlic, rosemary, sage, thyme, whatevs, in that momma. Also, squeeze and lemon in there and throw half a lemon in the cavity. Then, throw
some butter, maybe 3 TBsp in there. Tie up the legs if you are into that. You can find instruction for "trussing" on the iWeb. Yeah. Oh yeah.

Then rub the outside of the turkey (both sides) with butter, salt and pepper that bad boy, and tuck butter into the folds by the thighs and wings so that it bastes during the first part of roasting. also, I usually will throw some herbs and garlic in the bottom of the roasting pan along with some olive oil of butter. I also try to tuck some herbs and garlic into the folds by the thighs and wings. Squeeze a lemon over the top of that thing. Because you can.

I think the rule is to roast 15 minutes per pound, but you should check that on the inet. I like to start the turkey breast up to get a nice skin, then turn it about 1/3 through to get some juice down into the breast meat, then turn it again to finish breast side up so the skin gets wicked crispy. If at any point, you feel like the skin is bringing or too dark, cover it with tin foil. Baste with the juices from the pan ever 20-30 minutes so keep it moist. If it seems really dry for some reason, you can put some turkey stock in the bottom of the pan, but you should be fine because you have a kosher bird.

Then, girl, when it's ready, rest the turkey breast side down. On a carving board.

Take the roasting pan and either transfer all the liquids into a pot, or just cook directly in the roasting pan itself. Toss some flour (should be about equal portions to the fat) and stir until you make a roux. The deglaze with white wine and stock and stir until it bubbles. This creates pimp as hell gravy, which you can salt a pepper to taste.

Then make Chad give you a back massage.

Then you are done. Uh huh.

Take the temperature of your turkey in the thickest part of the thigh. It should register at 180 degrees. The turkey will keep cooking as it rests, and will become even more delicious. I recommend to serve after resting for 20-30 minutes.

Damn. Girl, damn.

Damn It, If Not Now, When?

2007-11-20T17:30:00.000-06:00

I need to get my blog on. I am in grad school and have so many thinks to do that I must write about them on the internet. Plus New York is super boring. I'm kidding

So, world, here they are: all the thoughts I have. Ever. And useful advice, tricks, ideas and life strategies. Like "Never watch an entire day of The Real Housewives of Orange County. Ever."

Short Theatrical Endeavor on the Nature of Romantic Love

2006-09-08T15:38:00.000-05:00

A Play.

Two women, A and J, sit in a dark room in two chairs, side by side.The chairs are white and plastic and uncomfortable. there is arectangle of bright white light on the floor. The women's heads moveback and forth, back and forth. Occasionally there is applause. Both women are wearing white, cotton cable knit sweaters and white pleated skirts. J has a very thick, almost indecipherable accent of dubious origins.

A: I played tennis when i was a kid. I was actually really good. I was a prodigy, actually. But then I discovered reading. Actually, I couldread the whole time, but at a certain point, I decided I liked reading more than tennis.
J: Tennis is great exercise. We should play some time. You have a very athletic figure.
A: At this moment a man is taking a chair out of my apartment, even though I dislike him.
J: How strange. Should you call the police?
A: No.
J: How strange. This is an excellent match. I heard that yesterday Navratilova was knocked out. I can't believe she still plays!
A: She is old. You know, actually, she's gay.

A covers her head, as if afraid she will be hit in the face with a baseball, or a meteor. After a few second, she sits up and adjusts her sweater.

J: Yes. I think she's a fantastic advocate for lesbians of her generation. And I find her very sexy. A: Yes.
J: I would like to kiss her.
A: Who?
J: Martina Navratilova.
A: I like Billy Jean King. I have to go wash my hands.

A runs off stage. Slowly, she creeps back onstage. She has a magnifying glass. She used it to examine J. J does not notice, she instead watched the tennis, and eats a mango.

A: Are you French?
J: Yes. Sometimes.
A: My friend told me that all French intellectuals are gay. Are you intellectual?
J: Yes. Sometimes.

A does cartwheels around the stage. Her underpants are rainbow striped.

A: Will you have dinner with me?
J: I would love to, but we can only be friends. I am dating Billy Jean King.

Billy Jean King enters. Billy Jean King and J exit, together.

A: Why? Why, God? Why? What have I done to displease you?!

A stands at center court, falls to her knees, beats her breast.

Fin.

48 Hours To and From: The Wisconsin Dells

2006-08-14T14:59:00.000-05:00

48 Hours To and From: The Wisconsin Dells

Actually, it was 36 hours, but who’s counting?

Destination: The Wisconsin Dells, The Waterpark Capital of the World!
Participants: AML and her unwitting and very sweet man, Thomas
Goal: To get the hell out of Dodge; watch mad soccer; go on waterslides.

In the Midwest, the car trip is crucial, as is the weekend getaway. You know how everyone from Minnesota has a cabin? Well, everyone else in the Midwest lives about 3 hours away from someplace that is less of a hot, urban wasteland than where they actually live. The summer in the Midwest can be particularly brutal for brooding, moody teens, rambunctious toddlers, and bored stay-at-home moms. The answer: a weekend getaway that is fun and affordable for the whole family. Sometimes this means owning a cabin, or having a timeshare on a cabin with your relatives or family friends. For others, this means the Dells.

A little history: The Dells started out as Kilbourn City, and were made famous by H.H. Bennett, a photographer and nature enthusiast who photographed the magnificent rock formations and scenery of the south-central Wisconsin in the 1860s and 70s. He is most well-known for his stop action photography, and his studio still operates in the Dells. The area grew as a tourism destination in the late 1800s. Though Native American tribes including the Winnebago, the Ho-Chunk, the Menominee and the Chippewa, played prominent roles in the history of the Dells early on, the white settlement and the growth of the logging industry in the area are what set the Dells on the map. Future president of the Confederacy Jefferson Davis explored in the area and in fact founded Fort Winnebago in nearby Portage, Wisconsin. In the 1940s, surplus Army Ducks, semi-amphibious transport vehicles used by the Army during WWII were brought to Lake Delton (the biggest lake in the area) for recreational use, and are still used today for tours and sightseeing along the river. In the 1950s, the Tommy Bartlett waterskiing show made the Dells a serious attraction, and his legacy lives on in the form of daily (and nightly) exhibitions of bizarre skill on the water-ski. And thus began the Dells’ marriage to water sports and recreation on the grandest of scales. (http://www.dells.com/dellshistory/)

Word to the wise: I love water slides, but I almost never go because it is so expensive. I went once as a teenager, with this woman I worked for, her younger half-sister and our boss’s daughter (both of whom were maybe 10). It was not something my family did when we were kids.

Getting there from Chicago is only about a 2.5 hour drive, and a relatively pretty one at that. We left early, armed with new flip flops, the top down (the lovely Thomas has a tiny convertible that I thought were only sold to gay men and people in midlife crises, but this is not the case—two of my Dad’s friends bought them during major life crises, both over 6’4”--in a Miata, this is truly priceless). We were intent on making it to the Dells in time to check into our room and watch the US-Italy soccer match , which we did. The roads were not congested, but be careful! Wisconsin has more state troopers than any other state I’ve driven through.

Our abode for the next day and a half was the Shamrock (http://www.shamrock-dells.com), truly a motel’s motel. Two stories in U shape, with a pool (complete with Irish-themed unicorn water slide) in the middle and a grassy green knoll on which sat not only picnic tables and a couple of motorcycles, but also several barbeques, apparently for public use. Cool! Each room had two plastic chairs outside the door as well. The rooms were comfortable and clean. But the most remarkable thing about the motel was the sense of community that was fostered by the huge families, all of whom were in the pool or sitting outside their rooms on their plastic chairs until late into the night. I also saw a pregnant woman in a bikini, a first for me.

Now, Thomas explained to me on our way to dinner that the Dells have a massive impermanent labor pool, that kids come from Poland and Eastern Europe to work in restaurants and in the parks over the summer. These kids were mostly college age waiters, but damn they were polite. But the late 80’s Iron Curtain feel was extended also to the tourists. We ate dinner the Saturday night at a “Mexican” restaurant because I’ve always been a fan of things called Mexicali Rose, and Thomas likes Con Queso (http://mexicali-rose.com). On the patio, we were seated close to a family of 10 Croats, or possibly Bulgarians. Half of them were blond, half looked like Gypsies. They all smoked (I swear, even the kids.) They refrained from wearing matching outfits like some of the American families we saw, and chest hair was abundant. They were like Italians vacationing in Italy, you know, the ones who go to the black sand beach near Naples, instead of heading to Santorini (because, according to them, the food is better and the people more polite). In the middle of Wisconsin, who know?

Nowhere were the foreign kids more palpable than at the carnival. After besting Thomas, an able competitor, at a round of miniature golf (on what I have to say was a disappointingly low-frills—read: no windmills, just difficult slopes and angles-- mini-golf course that also happened to be wet (http://www.piratescovewisdells.com), we went to the carnival so that I could cash in my prize, a ride of the Ferris Wheel. I have always wanted to ride a Ferris Wheel, and so this was my prize. Then we cleaned up at Skee-Ball, and wandered around the carnival. It was dreamy.

As an aside, we figured out that it would be possible to fund a relatively comfortable living in the Dells by buying liquor for teenagers. Also, while were buying beer at a 7-11, I saw a baby alligator/crocodile. But they had cheese curd, so I didn’t judge. We then went swimming with vacationing teens who were heavy petting in the pool, went down the indoor pool waterslide and sat out on our balcony chairs drinking mini Coronas while listening to the two 12 year old boys who were sitting in their plastic white chairs in front of the room next to ours describe things as “gay,” and then enter into a long conversation about the merits of men dressing as women. There weren’t many. Merits, that is.

The next day, we awoke to a surprising array of grey clouds. Sadly, we resigned ourselves to the fact that there would be no actual waterpark in our adventure to America’s Waterpark Capital. It felt weird, but it was the right thing to do, I guess. We went for lunch, watched some soccer, and decided to go on a Duck boat tour! Sweet! Duck boast are converted Army amphibious transport vehicles that, I swear to God, were used in the storming of Normandy on D-Day. Seriously. Some are painted camouflage, some are just army green. They all go fast and have punny early twenties drivers who tell bad jokes in order to get bigger tips. We got to go on the River, across Lake Delton and through some awesome woods. It was hysterical. It also gives one the opportunity to observe the habits and behaviors of local Wisconsinites, many of whom seem to go on the Ducks every time they come to the Dells. (http://www.wisconsinducktours.com/)

We also went to the public beach for a quick swim. Lake Delton is lovely, and surprisingly clean considering all the jet-skis and power boats that populate the lake. I would love to rent a cabin on the lake for a week, if that were possible top do so for cheap. Although to lose the charm of the motel would be seriously sad.

On the way home, we got stuck in horrible airport traffic, which sucked pretty hard. In order to not do that, one would have to leave way early, or way late from the dells. It’s kind of a fact of life that as soon as you drive near O’Hare, you’ll get stuck in some kind of traffic. Luckily, I fell asleep.

Lessons: Wisconsin has a lot of State troopers, so watch the speed limit, okay? Embrace your laziness: if you have gone to a place famous for waterslides, but don’t want to go on any actual waterslides, it’s okay. It’s completely okay. Are you kidding? It’s awesome. Finally, learn to drive a stick. It’s a life skill.

Regarding "48 Hours To and From"

2006-08-09T15:09:00.000-05:00

A quick word: '48 hours to and from' is our new travel column.
I was excited about doig '36 hours to and from: Detroit" for a Tigers-Twins game, but I couldn't go because it was a night game and itwould have taken too long to get home. Sad.

Another issue with '48 Hours To and From' is that I don't drive a stick, but my "boyfriend's" car is a stick, and I am not sure how often I can convince him to take me to dumb places in the Midwest. But we'll see. He took me to the Wisconsin Dells this one time when I was in a bad mood.

Anyway, suggestions welcome!
We're back! I know it. I hope I get fired for writing on the blog at work!

48 Hours To and From

2006-08-09T14:15:00.000-05:00

48 Hours to and from: Episode 1--St. Louis, MO

A Travel Column for the poor, young, beautiful, fun

and those who are lacking in vacation days

The inaugural edition

Destination: St. Louis, MO (300 miles from our beloved Chicago)
Participants: AML, Jon
Plan of action: To get AML’s brother an apartment in St. Louis; to have fun times; to see historic sites.

The (ideal) itinerary:
Friday

5 PM leave airport with car, drive like the rad ass bitches we are, listen to tunes;

7 PM stop for dinner at Steak and Shake, or similar;

9 PM roll in to Litchfield IL and find a motel10 PM buy beers, watch cable TV

Saturday:

8 AM wake up, swim/run, shower, breakfast

9:30 AM roll out to St Louis

11 AM The Arch

12-5 PM Apartment hunt; find sweet place, sign lease

6 PM check in to hotel, swim,. shower

7 PM go in search of dinner/good times/gay bars

Sunday

9 AM get up and check out

10 AM Brunch

11 AM leave St Louis

1 PM Lincoln Times (ie, the Lincoln Museum in Springfield); lunch

3 PM leave Springfield

6 PM return to airport, return car, go home

First things first: a lesson for the young and impressionable about car rentals. My boyfriend and my mom yelled at me about this, so it must be true: don’t get the special insurance. It’s a rip off. Also, fill the tank up with gas yourself, even if it is more expensive. They make you pay for a whole tank.

In general, it is awesome to go on vacation on another person’s dime. In this case, my mom paid for our magical trip because I was doing a favor for my younger brother. This was truly sweet and incredibly generous. But do not let this deter you from getting good deals! Seriously, everything is more expensive than you think it is. I must have paid well over $100 in taxes to the rental car people and the hotel people. Ridiculous. (Yeah, I know, it pays for public schools.)

It is also awesome to travel with people who love to drive. I do not love to drive. I like it, but it wears thin after about 2 hours. Jon loves to drive. It’s kind if intense. We named our car “Jetta 2: The Wrath of Khan.” We also called the car Jetta 2 Fast and the Wrath of Fast. This was because we got to drive a Jetta (grey, no sunroof), which was awesome, and because at night the audio panel gives off a strange red glow and the side mirrors have blinkers on them, making the car a lot like a space ship.

I learned a lot on this trip about traveling rad (read: traveling not like a complete jack ass) in the car. I usually fly. For instance:
Don’t leave Chicago at 6 PM on a Friday night and not expect traffic.
Keep abreast of any major construction between you and where you are going.
Make sure you check the weather at your destination. If there National Guard has been called in (which in our case actually happened), it might not be the best weekend to take a little vacation.
Buy gas in economically depressed location, it’s cheaper.
Maps! Maps! Maps!
The iTrip, playlists galore, and apparently, several Sufjan Stevens CDs.

Now, when I was told that I was supposed to go to St. Louis, I was a little skeptical. I’d always heard it was dull and hot, not a good combination. Being a Californian living in the Midwest, I have a certain amount of prejudice against other cities in the breadbasket and rustbelt of America. This is mainly because of an adage I was told when I moved to Chicago, that “everyone who lives in Chicago is from someplace shittier in the Midwest, hence, bitterness.” This is not really the case, it’s just my personal prejudice. I’m trying to be honest.

Travel tip: pick up a copy of the local free paper. Everything you need is in there. Seriously. In St. Louis, it’s the River Front Times. In Chicago, the Reader. Check the paper’s website for “Best of” and Top Ten lists as well. Everything good that happened to us happened because of the local paper. I even got some good advice in the RFT’s “Ask a Negro Leaguer” column.

First stop: Steak and Shake in Bloomington, Illinois. Embrace the junk food. Hug it. Love it. We saw this guy with a brand new tattoo, which is pretty gross. His girlfriend had hot chocolate and a salad. There was also a smoking section, which is genius. Steak and Shake has the best milkshakes.

Word to the wise: I have an irrational love of signs. As soon as we got near Springfield, many magical brown signs advertising the Lincoln Museum and “Other Historic Sites” began to pop up. I love historic sites. I also love the idea of Lincoln site and other historic sites.

We decided, fairly arbitrarily, to stop in Litchfield, Illinois, for the night. Litchfield is 50 miles form Springfield and 50 miles form St. Louis, has a deep love of The Good lord, and a Rural King (www.ruralking.com). We did not make a reservation in advance. Normally, this wouldn’t have been a problem. But St. Luis was being evacuated because of a very bad set of storms earlier in the week. We got, literally, the last hotel room in a 200 mile radius of Litchfield. We shared a king sized bed in a smoking room and drifted off to sleep with the cable on. We did not smoke or do it.

The next morning: Jon actually went for a jog, and we decided to bypass the Denny’s next door in anticipation of adorable hipster coffee shop breakfast in St. Louis. We were not disappointed. We got in around 11 a.m. Obviously, we had to forego the Arch in favor of finding my brother a place to live. We had coffee and bagels in a cute little coffee shop in the Lafayette Square neighborhood of St. Louis, west of downtown. So cute. All sorts of rehabbed warehouse loft type spaces, trendy restaurants, and a pretty park.

Apartment hunting interlude: not only was this boring and hot, but it was frustrating as all get out.

Word to the Wise: real estate in St. Louis is very affordable. Seriously. A nice, big 1 BR for $550 a month? We love it. Neither of us will ever be able to own property, so we didn’t look at actual listings. The flipside is that St. Louis is a CAR kind of town.

The one thing we did learn was that the U-City Loop, also called the Delmar Loop, is fun and a half. Cute shops, a “pipe store,” several nice restaurants and bars, and Blueberry Hill (the music venue), as well as a daily outdoor market. Very fun, especially if you like outside beer times, used books and CDs, and college kids. This is, obviously, the hang out for all people Wash U, which my brother will be in about 3 weeks.

Our next adventure took us to our hotel, which was drastically overpriced and on The Hill. Meh. It smelled bad and wasn’t actually close to anything. Stay downtown. I think it’s probably way more fun.

Speaking of Downtown, we went to The Arch. Well, we went up in it. We also went to the Museum of the Western Expansion. St. Louis, imbued with a deep desire to fight its sleepy river town image, has styled itself the Gateway to the West. This is fairly awesome, and The Arch truly does a wonderful job of representing the vastness and scope of America’s pioneering history. It’s very impressive, and the museum is quite good. There are animatronic statues of Merriwether Lewis and a Native America, so you can get, you know, both perspectives. But the real treat is going all the way up to the top of the arch and then looking out over East St. Louis, or just regular St. Louis. Really breathtaking. Also, we want you to know that no matter what you do, you can’t take a bad picture of the arch itself, as long as you are standing within 25 feet of its base. No joke.

Off to dinner! Jon picked a restaurant called 1111Mississippi, in Lafayette Square, that has, according to the RFT, the best wine list in the city. To this list, Jon and I humbly submit, Hottest Waiter. We had a fantastic meal, very fancy, and very well-priced for the quality. Fancy dinner is the best!

No 48 Hours To and From will ever be complete without a trip to the local swath of gay bars. Jon had looked up a great one, and we went to find it after dinner. We got lost, and then we were found. We found the neighborhood, but our bar was closed due to a power outage in the Central West End. We went to a Lesbian bar called Novack’s that was running on generators. It was so cute. I bought a beer cozy. Then we went across the street to Freddies’, a quintessential gay bar, complete with show tunes night (Wednesdays). Cute boys, and a $1 PBR special on “college night.” Make of that what you will. Medium-sized Midwestern City Gayborhood was adorable. MANchest(H)ER Street was a big hit.

The next morning, we were up semi-early, and went for brunch in Soulard, one of St. Louis’ older traditionally black neighborhoods that is slowly but surely gentrifying and generally turning out pretty darned cute. Soulard is also supposedly full of ‘mos, but that was secondary. We went to the Soulard Coffee Garden Café. I had eggs (well, one egg and fruit salad) while Jon had a cute omelet. They had funky hippie art on the wall. It was cute and very affordable. Big cups of coffee, too, and the restaurant was obviously populated by a ton of regulars. I was also pleased to see that it didn’t get busy for food until 11 a.m., which means that St. Louis enjoys its brunch instead of turning it into some kind of competitive sport. What’s the point of breakfast drinks if you are too tired to enjoy them?

On the road again! More Sufjan Stevens took us all the way to Springfield, where we enjoyed Lincoln Sites and Other Historic Sites. We went to the brand-spanking new Lincoln Presidential Museum, Lincoln’s Tomb, and the Capitol Building. It was pretty awesome. The Lincoln Museum was very Disneyland-ish to me, but full of interesting information. I had my picture taken with Frederick Douglass (not the real one, a statue). Special exhibit of the summer was all about the first ladies, from Martha to Laura. Ha! Some of those first ladies were hotties. Lincoln’s Tomb was much more somber, and definitely more like what I’m used to in terms of historic sites. Quiet. It has a “No Cell Phones” sign out front. Lincoln was a cool dude. It was nice to bask is the dim light of the gigantic box underneath which he is buried. He did good stuff for our country. The Capitol was okay. Nothing too mind-blowing. Definitely “other.”

And then we were on our way home! It was about 3 hours from Springfield to return to rental car, which was, as I said before, way too expensive. But now I know.

All in all, a successful trip.

Important links:
The Riverfront Times: http://www.rftstl.com/
1111 Mississippi: http://www.1111-m.com/eleven-eleven/main.html
The Arch: http://www.gatewayarch.com/
Lincoln Times!: http://www.alplm.org/home.html
Novack’s: http://novaksbar.com/
Freddie’s: http://www.freddiesbar.com/
Wash U: http://www.washu.edu/
The U City Loop: http://www.ucityloop.com/
LaFayette Square: http://www.lafayettesquare.org/
Weather: http://www.weather.com
Maps: http://maps.google.com

we've been crying and drinking, that's where we've been

2006-03-02T09:49:00.000-06:00

Loyal reader(s),

Hey man, we're real sorry.
Our lives have all gone to total shit in the last 3 months. Seriously. The two or three contribitors who have not been moved to tears daily have had to put up with the rest of us, so yeah, they've been miserable too. We'll try harder from now on, maybe.

Thankful?

2005-11-30T23:58:00.000-06:00

continuing what AML started, I am thankful for:
everything warm and fuzzy
the usual cheesy things
red wine
the first snow of the year
netflix
law and order at any hour of the day
and so much more.

Things for which I am Thankful, a list

2005-11-28T18:08:00.000-06:00

The list
nachos
insurance
day planners
friendship! no, pizza! wait! both!
spell-check

2005-11-22T00:05:00.000-06:00

I know it's old news by now, but please, can we take a moment to mourn the cancellation of "Arrested Development"?

I feel it is somehow my fault, as the announcement was made the SAME DAY that I put my last netflix of season 2 in the mail. Or maybe that's just a coincidence.

also, I know many of you don't care, but it looks like the post-Theo Red Sox are trading away the farm. But, oddly, I think it's a good thing, as long as Youk isn't totally screwed.

Hiatus

2005-11-21T19:47:00.000-06:00

So, after a gueling sweeps week, Ann Marie's graduate school misadventure is going on hold for a while. At least until she remembers how to tie her own shoes...

ways people should be more like me #1

2005-11-16T21:15:00.000-06:00

Okay, I never post, but I have decided that I will post regularly about something very important to me—basically, about how I often find myself wishing that other people could be more like me. And how I do not understand when they are not.

Like email. If you send me an email with a pressing concern or question, I will reply—albeit possibly briefly if there are time constraints. That is the right thing to do. And I’m not talking about the people who don’t have internet access at home or at work because they are park rangers in Siberia; I’m talking about people who live and breathe the internet.

Also, why so curt? Even brief response can contain elements of warmth and friendliness. Seriously. A “See you then!” or “Have a good day!” is always very nice. Or even just a little “xoxo” or “kisses” in the signing. “Sounds good” is always better than “ok.” I’m not saying that one needs to be EXACTLY like me—running around with “Good Times!!” and “Delicious,” but a little something is nice. Being nice is nice, okay?

I just don’t understand why one would not do these things. It is outside my realm of comprehension.

Near Elimination

2005-11-14T21:45:00.000-06:00

I am ruminating, from the edge.
Today, if I worked for a real company that cared about actual profit margin (for my company, if we actually make our budget, it just means we all get bonuses, which is bad for our business, because they'd have to pay us a living wage, or something), I would have been fired. Actually, I would have been fired on Friday, but whatever. There is still a distinct, yet utterly passive-aggressive and unclear, possibility that I will be fire in January.
On Friday, I described this rather embarrassing situation as being "a lot like getting a D in Core Bio." I think the description is apt.
To be bad at something sucks. To be bad at something you don't care about is slightly less bad, though equally irritating. To be beholden to idiots for your daily bread, and to not be good at something that should be hard to do at all, is soul shatteringly mortifying.

You're Just Jealous of my Skill-z

2005-11-14T07:24:00.000-06:00

Some of you witnessed Massachusetts' greatest talent on display last Saturday. I am speaking, of course, of the dancing to some fine 80's music that CTHJB and I displayed.

So vote, does this innate talent come from Boston's "Dirty Water", the "tea in the harbor", the "blatant liberalism" or something else? Feel free to weigh in.

Meanwhile, at the party where I demonstrated the aforemention skillz, the cold I've been fighting off successfully migrated into my nose and head into my voice and chest. So now when I speak I sound like a frog. For a good time you should come visit me at the box office tonight before TWG. I'll take your money with a croak, it'll be good for a laugh.

I haven't posted in a while because my new job actually demands my full attention (I know, right?). I know you all (both of you. Yeah, you S. S. and L.P.) have really missed it. But just picture me 80's dancing, that should make it all better.

Day 3, or the doldrums

2005-11-10T16:32:00.000-06:00

For a mildly hungover girl, I have managed to worry very little about graduate school today. Yesterday was not a "gym&gre" night, nor will tonight be.
Accomplished:
1 session with therapist in which he ascribes my decision to go to graduate school as a latent homosexual tendency manifesting itself through perfectionist, controlling behavior (JK!! No really. I'm joking. I'm not serious. God, I'll never live this down.)
1 email from the Gerald Ford School if Public Policy that makes me feel weird; one because they wrote my name "Ann marie" and two because Gerald Ford, not so much my favorite international relater or president. Whatever.

I am so picky.

Day 2, fairly smooth sailing

2005-11-09T12:55:00.000-06:00

21.2 miles on the bike.
Sentence completion and antonyms: check.

I am practically the Lance Armstrong of this GRE-gym plan. Except that I am not a lover of Sheryl Crow, nor is anyone pressuring me to a) run for governor of Texas or b) ride bikes with President George W. Bush. But in my own mind, my purpose is clear and my motives pure. Also, I've never had testicular cancer. Or testicles. Never mind. The moment's over.

Sadly, I've run into a slight hitch with regards to the gym aspect of the plan: rehydrating with beer is a bad idea, and not particularly efficient; not just for my liver and kidneys, but for my ability to stay awake long enough to say goodnight to the old ball and chain. Now I know that there are some of you in this world who will see this as an opportunity to take the CTHJB off my hands, but I say "If you try to ____ my man, I will seek ______ against you." Alternately, provide the antonym for "FRIENDSHIP."

So, two days down, two months to go.

P.S. If this doesn't work out, I am going to move to New York City to start a theater company on the Upper East Side with my buddies from college. No, seriously. Hey! Stop laughing. I always support your ideas. Support my artistic vision, okay?

The Odyssey begins

2005-11-08T13:47:00.000-06:00

The future holds many exciting things for all of us, I am sure. Someday, Heidi will be in Congress and Jon will be the next Josh Lyman/Donna Moss, depending on his attitude that particular day; Mel will run her own party-planning and child-saving business, Margo will have made out with brad Pitt, and Anna will make films that star Vanessa Redgrave. I believe in the resiliancy of the human spirit, and the lyric "ain't no mountain high enough." Seriously, if George W. Bush can own a baseball team then I can do something meaningful and fullfilling, right?
Right...
Today, the quest begins. Well, actually, it started a long time ago, and was formalized over the weekend. Graduate School. To be specific a Master's in Public Policy with a concentration in International Relations (not sex trafficking, but thanks), West Africa (Liberia, Sierra Leone), and Peace and Conflict Studies (an actual academic discipline). I invite you to join me on this most perillous of journeys.
The Plan has many parts, the most important of which is moral support. Every day, I wake up and think about whether or not I am capable of accomplishing this goal that I have cxreated myself; and everyday, I think "No, you idiot! You can't even file your own taxes!" And therefore, everyday, I request that my fragile ego be stroked. Part 2: the GRE. This is a mountain less steep than it is muddy and covered in poison oak. But I will navigate the irritation and the mindlessness of it all to acheive its heights. And I will do so by studying my GRE practice book from the Princeton Review (the suckers who did not help me improve my SAT scores; oh, wait. That makes me the sucker. Hmm.) at the gym several (between 1 and 4) times a week. Seeing as how I haven't gone to the gym, for which I pay a whopping $50 a month, in like four months, this is doubly tough, but doubly rewarding. Plus the soap in the gym showers smells like coconuts. Delicious coconuts. The most important thing I've learned so far is the "the week before the GRE is not a time to drastically change anything: don't quit smoking, dont start smoking, don't quit coffee, don't start coffee, don't start a relationship, don't end a relationship. The week before the GRE needs to be smooth sailing." Tell me about it. Part 3: the actual Applications and everything else. This is not a part I have actually tried to tackle yet, but I'm getting there. An update will be provided as soon as my pop-up window blocker on Firefox crashes the Yale application site, and I loose weeks worth of personal statements and rec letters.
So, anyway, so far I have:
1 rec letter promised (from the dreamy Dr. Hall)
1 Graduate School Fair attended (thank Jon)
3 school application websites unsuccessfully navigated (Yale, Kennedy School of Government and The Ford School at the University of Michigan)
2 supportive parents, who may foot the bill for the test fees and application costs
1 panic attack (last night, as the Yale sitestarted to look like the third circle of hell)
22.4 miles on the stationary bike
10 analogy problems completed, 7 right

It's like I'm half-way there.
Pray for me.

Every Sip I Take

2005-10-06T10:34:00.000-05:00

New York:
At first I thought it was charming, you constantly needing to be reminded that I drink Cream not Milk in my coffee. But really, I would like to pour it myself now. Please. You have diluted my cup one too many times.

2005-09-06T08:22:00.000-05:00

We all understand the major problems and frustrations with traveling by plane--long lines at security, delays, uncomfortable seats, expensive tickets, etc.

But what about the small ones?

I am one of those people who recognize that the major problems are out of my control. I may whine about them, but I don't get angry about them as there really is no way for the airlines to fix them.

Before I launch into my list of complaints, I would also like to state my theory of human nature. There are 2 types of people in the world (ah, thus begin so many useless platitudes), first there are those who are out of their plane seat and halfway up the aisle, luggage in hand, by the time the seat bell sign dings off. These people are not interested in waiting for the second type: those who don't see any reason to GET OFF! NOW!, and therefore are moving slowly. Sometimes they chat on cell phones while sitting in the seat blocking their aislemates. Sometimes they just wave everyone who was behind them up ahead and off.

I am, needless to say, one of the first type. On the way to my vacation destination last weekend I struck seat gold by getting seat 6D--2nd row after first class, on the aisle. Pure gold for me: as close to OFF as possible without sitting in the bulkhead. I was not as lucky on the return trip. 15A. Halfway back is ok, but when traveling alone window seats make me crazy. Furthermore, the 2 people blocking me in were members of type 2 and had no interest in hurrying off.

And now, finally, onto the list of things that really tick me off about air travel. In no particular order.

1) Arriving at gate B1 and learning that your connection leaves from F30.
(This is a problem even if there is a shuttle from terminal B to terminal F. Those shuttles are not reliable and usually are crowded, smelly, bumpy and slow. Usually it is faster to walk, provided you don't have to go through security again.)

2) Given that virtually everyone carries a roller suitcase, flooring is very important. Floor tiles that have dips in between them cause roller bags to make a distinctive "thump" noise every 2 feet or so. While parts of most airports have this type of flooring (see the bathrooms at ORD), Boston's Logan is, to my knowledge, the worst offender. An entire terminal is floored that way.

3) Coke is not the same as Pepsi. If I ask for a diet coke, and you only serve Pepsi, the correct next response is "We only have Pepsi, is that ok?" I can then say "In that case, I'll just have water" (while this is not limited to air travel, it is worse when flying. FWIW, United is a Pepsi airline, American is Coke)

4) Bathroom stalls should have doors that open out, and they should be large enough to accommodate a suitcase. People flying alone must bring their suitcases into the stall, or risk confiscation by airline personnel. Ergo... (Similarly, automatic fixtures should work correctly, not going on or off too early or too late. But this is not limited to airports.)

5) There should be more sinks in women's restrooms than stalls. Ideally there should be a whole separate bank of mirrors so that those who need to re-apply makeup post-flight have somewhere to do that without disrupting my basic hygiene.

6) There are not enough outlets for everyone. Please share. You are not the only person who desperately wants to charge his/her phone/laptop/ipod/etc.

I think that's it. Please feel free to add your own thoughts, but remember: "minor" complaints only.

Vote: The New 007

2005-08-17T14:56:00.000-05:00

Pierce Brosnan has been deposed. If you know me, you kow that Sean Connery will always be the best of the Bonds.
But who will take Pierce's place?
I vote for Ewan McGreggor.
Vote!

Definition: Regard

2005-08-11T17:17:00.000-05:00

re·gard

Pronunciation (r-gärd) v. re·gard·ed, re·gard·ing, re·gards v. tr.
To look at attentively; observe closely.
To look upon or consider in a particular way: I regard him as a fool.
To hold in esteem or respect: She regards her teachers highly.
To relate or refer to; concern: This item regards their liability.
To take into account; consider.
Obsolete. To take care of. v. intr.
To look or gaze.
To give heed; pay attention. n.
A look or gaze.
Careful thought or attention; heed: She gives little regard to her sister's teasing.
Respect, affection, or esteem: He has high regard for your work.
regards Good wishes expressing such sentiment: Give the family my best regards.
A particular point or aspect; respect: She was lucky in that regard.
Basis for action; motive.
Obsolete. Appearance or aspect.
Idioms: as regards
Concerning. in/with regard to, With respect to.

Sign that I am phoning it in #1,392

2005-08-10T13:52:00.000-05:00

I just spilled 20oz of diet coke all over a) my desk b) $30 worth of stamps c) $400 worth of walkie-talkies
(i.e. the coke flipped out of my hand and into my--partially ajar--second desk drawer)

My first reaction was not "Fuck! save the walkie talkies!"
rather, it was "fuck! save my diet coke! fuck! do I have to clean that up myself?"

A Meditation on the Immediacy of Human Contact Through Cell Phones

2005-08-03T17:19:00.000-05:00

Nobody has called me in four days. Since my boyfriend and I broke up, I have not been surprised NOT to feel my cell phone vibrate and see it flash those expectant lights on the photo-display (a side note: I hate it when people pretend they don’t know it’s you calling—your name is flashing right in front of their eyes!). To add insult to injury, he dumped me, so I had to be very careful to never have my cell phone on hand during those terrible urges to call him up. They call it Drunk Dialing, though I can’t see why. Apparently in Japan you can hire a service that will block certain numbers when you activate the phone with a breathalyzer, or some nonsense. Japan is so cool. But I digress.

My actual point is that nobody has called me in four days. Not a soul. I called my doctor on Monday, and she called me back, but that wasn’t a social call. Inherent in this troublesome fact is not a sense on my part that my friends don’t like me—they do, very much. We spent a lot of good time together over the weekend. We email all day long at work. My friends like me just fine, and I return their affection openly and without reservation. My issue is this: if I have a phone and it is always with me and always on, will I ever feel that I am not supposed to talk on it? And, perhaps more importantly, is it possible that I could go through my entire life, weaned off these machines of connectivity, and never talk to people I actually know ever again.

This started after my boyfriend dumped me (did I mention that he dumped me?) and I, for the first time in my life, did not do the “HoneyIloveyousomuchtakemebackIwantyoursexholdme likeyoudidbythelakeonNaboo” phone-thing. I didn’t. (Ed. Note: Warning: I cheated...now.) I calmly called to see if we could discuss our plight (answer: yes; outcome of conversation: not so good), and I haven’t spoken to him since. I attribute this entirely to the fact that I am seeing a psycho-therapist and to my friends, who have kindly taken turns babysitting me as a spin riotously out of control. Also, to the cable TV/air conditioning at the bar-restaurant-wannabe late 90s dance club down the street form my apartment, and to the invention of reality television, and to People Like you who support Public television.

But this really started four days ago, when people stopped calling me. Maybe I jump the gun and call them. I do this to my parents constantly, though they make it very clear that they are way cooler than I am by forcing my friends to watch Chinatown in our den. Several of my friends are out of town, so that could bring the percentage of people down a notch. Some plans were laid in stone via email on Friday afternoon after work had become, shall we say unbearable. I got some emails and text messages. Just a few, nothing severe. I made several calls. Left some messages.

But I have broken up with the phone. In my desperation to find myself superior to now ex-boyfriend, I decided that the Phone was bad. If he didn’t call me, that was his loss. I was obviously the mature one. I turned it off for several days. Now, I leave it in my purse instead of plugging it in. I leave it at home when I go out. Because to me, Phone began to represent everyone who didn’t call, who didn’t care, who didn’t like me, or who wanted to buy my best friend a suit instead of fall in love with me. So I broke up with the phone. Phone is less beautiful to me now as she was three weeks ago, and for that I am sad. It’s like kicking junk, only way less hard. I don’t even freak out when people call people in front of me, that’s how over it I am.

Then again, I did just post this on the internet.

Biography: Margo

2005-08-03T17:13:00.000-05:00

Margo was born out of wedlock from the tawdry and passionate affair between former First lady and Queen of Camelot Jacqueline Kennedy Onassis and her brother-in-law, then Attorney General Robert Kennedy. The two dallied only briefly in South Lake Tahoe, where Kennedy’s family were part owners of the Cal-Neva Lodge. Two years later they secretly married for one day, the day that Margo’s younger brother was born. An outcast in the Kennedy clan, and forbidden from Greece because of her Turkish-Cypriot passport, Margo was raised in the basement of CBGB, the famous punk-rock night club in New York City, cementing early in life her affection for truly terrible music and sign language. At the age of nine, she was appointed to the President’s Physical Fitness committee, where she mandated that all 4-6th graders in the United States be able to do chin ups. She then moved to China, Nepal and Iowa, where she carved a likeness of the Last Supper in butter. Returning to New York an acclaimed artist, she founded DemocracySoon, a not-for-profit political action network and daycare center. She currently resides in Malibu, California, and she is a recurring extra on ‘24’ and an aspiring Best Boy.

Yesterday, all our troubles were so far away

2005-07-27T12:03:00.000-05:00

Digest: Space is Awesome, or lessons from a rainy day woman #45
So, it's official: Space is awesome. Pretty amazing. After a small dispute with my roommate this morning about whether or not space was in fact the way to bind humanity in a a common cause of peace, exploration and learning, I decided that despite her pessimism, I would believe that Space is the shit, and ain't nobody going to tell me different. The launch was beautiful and amazing.
Buying presents for your sister or you female life companion is hard, especially when your tastes overlap.
Chicago has a proposal to build a hellsa tall building near Navy Pier. Why? Who cares? When? Who knows? To what end? Promoting terrorism. We will not always be the Second City. Once we have the three tallestbuildings in America, and the busiest airport, we will be a major target too.
NPR for black people teaches me a lot. Heidi Robberbaron likes me to call is News and Notes.
Our friends made out with Jennifer Aniston outside the shop for some movie. Vince Vaughn then totally bought them a beer. Or something. Go tell your friends.
I briefly considered becoming a prostitute. Damn you, Craigslist. Damn you, paycheck.

"The cure for boredom is curiosity. There is no cure for curiosity."
--Dorothy Parker

"What can I say about that coat that hasn't already been said about Afghanistan?" --Dave Chappelle

Climb Every Mountain

2005-07-26T13:44:00.001-05:00

As most of you know, I am not a mountain climber at heart. Or at soul, or, really, anywhere.

So it was with some trepidation that I agreed to accompany my brother, his wife, and 13 of their closest friends on a camping trip up a mountain to celebrate his 30th birthday.

I survived, however, and by some measures actually had an amazingly good time.

Here is an excerpt of my account of the weekend. Names may have been changed to protect the innocent. Or not.

My brother, sister-in-law and I left Park Slope at 8am.

Our first stop is at a starbucks in Chinatown, which was the rendezvous point with another camper, as it was deemed halfway between my brother's apartment and hers. She arrived late, something about a lost wallet, $10 in quarters, paying a cabbie via check, and an awful hangover. She spent much of the rest of the trip trying to shake off her new nickname-'hangover girl'.

Not long after we picked her up, a cell phone rang. Here's, essentially, a transcription of the conversation:
Sister-in-Law (SIL): Hi, What's up?
Brother's oldest childhood friend (BOCF): Hey, so, I have a logistical question, one which is actually shared by everyone in my car.
SIL: what's that?
BOCF: So, are we, well, are we camping by where we leave the cars, or do we need to bring all our camping gear up the mountain?
SIL: the latter.
BOCF: hmmm. So, we uh, probably need big backpacks. huh.
SIL: yes.

*please note that this car was also coming from Brooklyn and was supposed to arrive at the mountain at the same time as our car. We were already out of the Holland tunnel, they weren't packed*

I instantly felt better about my chances of surviving the weekend unharmed.

We had an uneventful drive, listening to ipods and telling stories, and stopped at a diner around 10:30am. While there we called at least one member of the other 5 cars to check on progress. 11am was the theoretical meeting time, but we expected people to be late.

We got a status update on all the cars.
BOCF estimates a 12:30 arrival. Another NY van estimates 11:30, and the new haven group says 12. The Boston car, meanwhile, says "just turning onto . Should be there right on time".

We finished our coffee, used the last real bathroom we'd see for quite some time, and drove on. We arrived at the starting point at about 11:15...and there was no Boston car. Also no cell reception. So, we waited.

Around 11:30 SIL asks "where, exactly, did he say he was turning?" We discuss this and, once we look at a map, realize that
the Boston car is on the wrong side of the mountain. So bro&SIL drive off to find cell reception and make some calls, leaving Hangover Girl (HG) and I to greet the others.

Of course, HG and I between us only know 6 of the 16 people expected on this trip, all of whom are in the cars running the most late.

The New Haven car arrives next. HG and I cautiously establish identity and make idle chit-chat while a musician friend of my brother sets up a speaker outside his car and blasts Brahms' requiem. Clearly, the tone has been set.

Another car arrived around 12. Those of us who were on time were beginning to get a little grumpy, but also enjoyed being on flat ground. We played 4 square with a tennis ball, etc. Bro periodically wanders off to use a cell phone to contact the others.

A van pulls up around 1. At 1:15 the Boston car pulls up, looking chagrined and miserable. We reassure him that he was only last by 15 minutes.

We then decide to redistribute the food and booze to everyone's backpacks. We all end up with heavy loads; my brother's backpack was the biggest, but my sister-in-law's backpack might have been bigger than she is.

We all took a bracing swig of bourbon, and started off at 2:00. Only 3 hours behind schedule and only 1 hour behind my brother's "assuming everyone's late, worst-case" scenario.

About 20 minutes into the hike...oh, you need more info about the actual hike.

5.9 miles to lake. Drop gear. Hike 3.4 more miles to top of mountain, hike down to lake. Eat, drink, camp, 5.9 miles back to the car Sunday AM. That's the basic plan.

so, about 20 minutes in we run into some park rangers. Here is my attempt to remember the exact conversation. Characters are:
PR1=Parkranger #1.
B=my brother
FFOB=female friend of brother
MFOB=male friend of brother.
AFOB=athlete friend of brother (gender not relevant to exchange).

PR1: howdy folks. You headed to echo lake? How many of you are there? What's the occasion?
MFOB: yup, 16 total, his 30th birthday
PR1: May I see your camping permit?
All: camping permit?

*negotiations ensue. Result is a one night camping permit issued on the spot*

PR1: Some advice, though it may be too late. Cans crush, bottles are almost as heavy on the way down as the way up. Not that you will be drinking. Now, do you have enough rope?
FFOB: rope?
PR1: for the bears
FFOB: bears?
AFOB: yes, I have plenty of rope. Will hold up to 300 pounds.
FFOB: 300 pounds? Rope?
MFOB: we might have to hand our gear from the trees so the bears don't eat it.
B: I thought the only problem was bobcats?
PR1: oh, no. we get lots of bears. Any food, drink, deodorant, sunscreen, insect repellent, food wrappers...All that you need to hang from the trees. Also your hiking boots because they like the salt. Anything you have that has any scent at all you should hang.
FFOB: really?
MFOB: well, we can just, like, climb the tree and put our stuff there, right?
PR2: if you can climb it, so can the bear. If you leave anything with any scent in range, the bears will come. And you probably don't want a mama bear in your tent.
B: what about things like epi pens and snake kits, we can keep those, right?
FFOB: snake kit?
PR1: no. hang those. The snake kit won't help with the rattlers.
MFOB: rattlers?
PR2: The only snakes you need to worry about are the rattlers.
MFOB: there aren't rattlesnakes in NY (guffaws)
B: actually, this is the one mountain where there are
PR2: Yup
PR1: if someone gets bit, you send the fastest person to run to the cars and get a doctor while the rest of you help the injured person back. snake kit won't do anything
MFOB: (jokingly) well, couldn't we just suck and amputate?
PR1: that's TV stuff. Last person who tried that...lets just say it didn't turn out well.
FFOB: dear god, you're kidding, right?
PR1: do I look like I'm kidding?
B: what about the bobcats?
PR2: with luck you'll hear them coming. Have fun, and happy birthday
AFOB: come on guys, don't be such wimps.
FFOB: ummm.......

The actual hiking was fun. Nothing shockingly hard or easy. Some of my brother's friends who were college athletes are no longer athletic...so I wasn't last.
I also established that of the 16 people on the hike, 15 were either invovled with the law or with the arts.
On the law side were 2 public defenders, 1 law student, 1 Spitzer employee, 1 human rights lawyer, 1 corporate tax lawyer, 1 ex-corporate lawyer writing a novel, and 2 legal journal writers. Representing the arts were 2 dancers, me, 1 trumpeter, 1 guitarist, and 1 artist. I think I have that count correct...

conversations were varied and interesting.

We got to the lake at 4:30, left our stuff at the campsite with a couple. They opened a bottle of wine and set up some tents. We hiked to the top of the mountain and enjoyed the view, once again passing the flask.

We ooh-ed and ahh-d and then came back to the lake.

We had dinner (sandwiches from whole foods), wine, and whiskey. we had cake, which had been carried up in two containers--one with cake, one with frosting. Brilliant!

We lay by the fire, eating, drinking, and listening to the three guitarists. One pretty much knows Johnny Cash and folk music, my brother pretty much knows acoustic guitar songs that he wrote, and the third pretty much knows classic rock.

We had a sing-along for a while. The people camped across the lake requested Free Bird, we obliged.

Hoisting the backpacks up into the trees was an amusing endeavor, but we were ultimately successful and then went to bed.

As we were beginning to drift off, however, my 2 tentmates and I heard something that sounded a lot like a bear, but was actually just someone snoring.

We were up early (the sun intruded), but only my brother went running.
Breakfast was granola and soy milk, but there was only one bowl, which caused some logistical issues.
We had lots of soy milk left at the end, so there were some soy-chugging contests as pouring it out for the bears seemed like a bad idea, as did carrying opened cartons.
Most people went swimming in the lake, I declined.
Then we hiked back down.

Lots more was fun(ny), but probably only if you were there.

A Biographical Sketch

2005-07-21T23:00:00.000-05:00

Ms. Fliz was born from the foam of the ocean off the isle of Crete in the wine dark Agean Sea. She was, as a child, a prolific playwright, often penning plays under the pseudonym Aeschylus. After briefly serving as a boat-rower in an Athenian battle ship fleet, Ms. Fliz deserted the navy and adventured around the Middle East. After settling in Jerusalem, and working for a while as a kindergarten teacher, Ms. Fliz decided to abandon the educational arts in favor of a career as a movie star. Her first three films, all directed by Michael bay, were flops. She was engaged to Ben Affleck, though the pair split amicably after she found out that he was not, in fact,
Jewish. Her fourth movie, "Rushmore 2," co-starring Owen "The Butterscotch Stallion" Wilson was both a commercial and critical success, and vaulted Ms. Fliz to instant fame and wealth. After a dangerous bout with malaria (which she contracted on location for her
film "Malaria"), Ms. Fliz moved to Buenos Aires, where she opened a modest antique and interior design shop. While in Argentina, she played for their national soccer team, and received a degree in English Literature with a minor in Astrophysics from the Universidad de Buenos Aires. Ms. Fliz returned to the United States with her adopted son three years later, sparking a country-wide adoption craze. She returned to acting, staring in several feature films, including "Pride and Prejudice Reloaded: Revenge of the Uglies" and a film version of The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier and Clay. She now splits her time between Chicago, where she is an ensemble member with Steppenwolf Theatre, Los Angeles, and a hut in rural Cambodia.

The Maiden Voyage

2005-07-21T14:54:00.000-05:00

Hi, reader?

I thought it was you. It wasn't just because you had the rose tucked into your copy of The Age of Innocence. I could just tell...

Do you mind if I sit down? Can I get you a refill on that latte?

I have never written on a blog before. Oh, you neither? Haahaa, that is comforting and refreshing. Yeah, all my friends had started doing it and they convinced me. They said some of the readers weren't all creeps; they said they actually met some interesting people. One reader even agreed to do one of my friends' taxes.

How long have you been a blog surfer? Oh, that long? Interesting. What was it about my blog that attracted you? I mean, I'm just curious. Being new at this and all.

Oh....the font. Yeah, I didn't pick that. I mean, I just went with what was standard. Hmmm. Anything else? My grammar? Oh well thank you. I do pride myself on being quite the "grammartician".

No, that isn't a real word. I just made it up right now. Oh, you like it? Thank you, reader. I have always had a fondness for puns. No, I guess it isn't really a pun, you're right. You are very astute, aren't you?
(awkward sipping of hot beverage)

So, I know this might seem too sudden, but can we blog again soon? I find you to have a superior intellect and yet a non-threatening one at the same time. I will enjoy talking about you to my friends and taking you to cocktail parties. Don't answer right away. Take some time to think about it, and hopefully I'll see you on the blog sometime soon.

Well, this has been really great.

Biographical Note

2005-07-21T12:36:00.000-05:00

Heidi X. A. Vanderbilt-Robberbaron was born to a wealthy coal mining, steel producing, computer chip inventing family in the wilds of Connecticut. She spent much of her young life on boats, as her grandfather was a great maritime man, and sailed everyday of the year except Christmas. Heidi’s sea legs guided her to the Sorbonne at the tender age of 16, where she earned a degree in Economics while also working at the Opera Française. She soon became a part owner of the Shakespeare and Co. bookstore on the left bank, where she pioneered the great literary careers of Jack Kerouac, Michael Chabon and Jane Austen. She is also credited with the discovery of uranium in secret lab in the basement of her bookshop. While in Paris, she met and married a direct descendent of the Emperor Napoleon. Heidi fled Paris after the student uprisings in 1968 and settled in Morocco, where she lived in the desert and traveled with a caravan through the desert. After discovering the lost kingdom of Zanzibar, Heidi returned to the Western world to begin one of the greatest creative marriages in the history of the American musical. Her work with Stephen Sondheim has been called “transcendental,” “inspired” and “homosexual.” Heidi now lives in Aspen, Colorado, and teaches skiing.

Biographical Information: Calamity Anna

2005-07-21T12:01:00.000-05:00

Calamity Anna grew up on a cinnamon plantation in Sri Lanka after the War. With only a small suitcase and the clothes on her back, she set off to London to make her fortunes in the fast evolving world of car racing. Though London was by no means an epicenter of traditional high performance car racing, Anna quickly found herself in the upper echelons on the sport, and often spent weekends cavorting on yachts off the coast of France with dignitaries, businessmen, actresses and politicos. Because of her high profile position, Anna was subsequently recruited into the KGB, and for years was a Communist spy. Her work with the KGB took her all over the world, notably to the Andes mountains, where she recruited indigenous Americans to the Communist cause. Disillusioned and tired after years of secret service, Anna retired from the KGB by faking her own death shortly after the Soviet invasion of Afghanistan in 1979. Anna then bought a VW van, replaced the seats with cushions and blankets, a few clip lights, and a projector, and drove around the country making theater in parks, backyards and vacant lots. She amassed a devoted following, and eventually founded what would come to be known as the Nomadic School of acting and theater technique, influenced in equal parts by The Gilmore Girls, Anne Bogart and Modigliani. She currently resides in maritime South Haven, but keeps a home in New York City, where she is a part time venture capitalist and full time exotic dancer.

A Biography of Ann Marie Antoinette

2005-07-20T14:15:00.000-05:00

Ann Marie Antoinette was raised by a family of wild Peregrin Falcons in the moutains north of San Francisco, California, in the late 1950s. Her untamed upbriging left in her a streak of wild abandon which was cultivated when she joined, at the age of 9, a travelling circus that toured with the Grateful Dead and other counter-culture musical acts. As Jerry Garcia's first wife, she was instrumental in enocuraging Bob Dylan to go electric, a move which made her rather unpopular in her folk-rock-drug-anti-establishment group of companions. Outcast from the travelling circus after a disastrously embarrassing fall off the trapeze at the Monterey Pop Festival, Ann Marie went to New York City, making money posing as a nude model for art students at the new School of Social Research. This lead her to a Biology teaching post at Columbia University, where she simultaneously acheived advanced degrees in Chemistry, Environmental Engineering and Ancient Greek History and Literature, which lead her to found and finance the world's first full sized recreation of the Library at Alexandria, which she painstakingly built over the course of a decade outside of Cairo, Egypt. She returned to the United States and was briefly involved with the Black Panthers, but chose to pursue a career in finance with Goldman Sachs in Chicago, Illinois. This move lead her to reconnect with her birth parents, Elizabeth Taylor and Rock Hudson, with whom she founded the 'Starshiv Enterprise' not for profit AIDS research and charity foundation. Fleeing to Berlin in 1988, Ann Marie was briefly a cross-dressing nun and smuggled East Germans across the border to U.S. occupied territory. She then moved to the Congo, Rwanda, Bosnia and then Iraq, before returning to the U.S. in 2000 to manage Al Gore's unsuccessful presidential campain. Saddened by their narrow loss, Ann Marie retired to her estate in Palm Springs. She now splits her time between Palm Springs, Duluth, MN, and Boston, where she frequently acts with ART. SHe enjoys reading, baking and raising panthers.

Assignment

2005-07-13T08:59:00.001-05:00

ode
n.
A lyric poem of some length, usually of a serious or meditative nature and having an elevated style and formal stanzaic structure.
A choric song of classical Greece, often accompanied by a dance and performed at a public festival or as part of a drama.
A classical Greek poem modeled on the choric ode and usually having a three-part structure consisting of a strophe, an antistrophe, and an epode.

examples: Keats' famous Ode on a Grecian Urn and Ode to a Nightingale

Draft an Ode, modeled on the samples above, to an everyday experience.

For example, Melanie might write "Ode to Scrabble" and talk about bug cafe, and I might write "Ode to the New AC in my Office".

These are just suggestions. I expect lyricism and rhyming. You may visit Rhyme Zone or similar engines for assistance.

There ain't nothing like bad poetry.

Jon Boychild

2005-07-12T11:21:00.000-05:00

About your friendly correspondent:

Jon Boychild is the product of a torrid three-way love affair between Aaron Copland, Steven Sondheim, and Leonard Bernstein. He was carried to term by Martha Graham, the fact of which is one of the reasons whyhe's awesome. In addition to inheriting the musical talent of his fathers, he inherited a large portion of the Getty family fortune as a result of his first marriage, at age 5, to the eldest, spinster daughter of J.P. Getty. The marriage lasted two years and ended upon the death of Jon's wife. At the time of her death, Jon founded the"Get it Getty" foundation, for which he still continues to serve as lifetime trustee and president emeritus. The foundation supports work in the performing and visual arts and also operates a large avocado farm in the Central Valley of California. At the age of 18, after simultaneously graduating from Stanford, Yale, and Harvard with degrees in law, theology, and business, respectively, Jon became Secretary-General of the United Nations, a post her held for 10 years. He is still remembered as one of the most stylish and empathetic Secretaries-General in the organization's history, and his "blueball," held on the roof of the Secretariat building, is credited with revitalizing the UN's international mission. After stepping down asUN Secretary-General, Jon spent five years in seclusion as a Benedictine monk in the Loire Valley of France. He emerged with controlling financial stakes in Vivendi, General Electric, Paramount Pictures, and the four largest Saudi Arabian oil companies. His business ingenuity in merging all those corporations together helped solve the world's energy crisis and led to the adoption of strict anti-trust legislation by the World Court. Jon maintains positions on the boards of all the companies he once owned, though he currently spends most time building and sailing large, pink-colored sailboats, searching for the perfect martini, and co-writing A Middling Work of Self-Involved Platitudes. He divides his time between his vineyard in Napa, his penthouse in New York City, and his houseboat in Marseilles, France.

My list of caveats

2005-07-11T20:14:00.000-05:00

1. Don't ever work for venture capitalists, or for that matter anyone who has 10,000 times as much money as you do and is 30 years older than you, or who lives on the other side of the Atlantic and spends $14,000 on a single flight from London to Chicago.

2. Don't ever write 2800 S. LaSalle Suite 2800 on an agenda when you really mean 190 S. LaSalle Suite 2800.

3. Don't ever book a hotel room for other people and assume that because you and your travel agent have called 3 times to make sure that it is non-smoking, that it will in fact be a non-smoking room.

4. Don't ever work for someone who needs you to make hotel reservations for them often, who has a severe allergy to cigarette smoke.

5. Don't ever assume that because you are better than your horrible job that you are actually good at your horrible job.

6. Don't ever think that you're not worth a reimbursable cab ride home on the company.

What to Wear?

2005-07-07T17:02:00.000-05:00

Okay, kids:

For the job interview at the museum:

A) Black knee length skirt and black jacket that can pass for a suit, with nice shirt and fun shoes
or
b) Orange and brown print Diane Von Furstenburg vintage wrap dress with jacket and heels

Vote!

A Big News Day

2005-07-06T17:45:00.000-05:00

Kids, today was a big news day, and everything happened while I was away from the internets.
- Matt Cooper decided to testify regarding the Plame case, claiming that he has a signed letter from his source allowing him to reveal said source's name.
- Judith Miller declined to testify, and was sent to, as wonkette calls it, the pokey.
- The President of the United States of America, while riding a bike, collided with a local police officer, fell, and scraped his hands. The police officer is, thankfully, okay, and the president will still get to go to dinner with the queen.
- Lil Kim gets a year in jail for perjury (thank God it wasn't 20!!!!)
- I am a licensed driving 'mo.

Assignment

2005-07-05T23:08:00.000-05:00

We need bios

OT continued

2005-07-05T23:02:00.000-05:00

Well, early on we lost 2 oxen (They wandered off) causing a 2 day delay. However, we successfully crossed the first river. then we shot a buffalo which weighed 963 pounds, but were only able to carry 100 lbs back to the wagon.

Because we are weak. Indoor kids.

We forded the second river, but our supplies got wet, costing us 1 day. I switched to "grueling" pace.
we passed the gravesite of "diet coke" (april 9th). We mourn appropriately.
one of the oxen is injured (April 10th)
Jon has dysentary (May 7th)
Wrong Trail (may 24)
Inadequate Grass (may 30th)
(hmmm. who needs the grass?)
Very Little water (june 14th)
Anna has Typhoid (June 20)
Successfully cross the snake river (June 30th)
Impassable trail . lose 8 days (July 11)
Anna has a broken leg (july 20)
Anna has died (July 25th)
ok, gotta quit for the night. Time to leave work.

more OT in the future, though probably not tomorrow.

I left my home at 6:34. It is now 11:04. Is mentioning that breaking the rules?

Oregon Trail: 7/5 Edition

2005-07-05T20:57:00.000-05:00

We interrupt this 50th Anniversary of the birth of improv comedy to bring you

The Oregon Trail

You may:

1. Travel the trail
2. Learn about the trail
3. See the Oregon Top Ten
4. Turn sound off

What is your choice? 1

Todays travelers are
Ann Marie
Anna
Jon
Margo
Melanie

"You are currently using the evaluation version of Virtual APPLE IIE. You will be interrupted for 1 minute every 5 minutes until you buy a license..."

and we're off...

more later, when I know how we've fared.

Assignment #1

2005-07-05T20:31:00.000-05:00

To Jon:
Write a one page essay based on either of these two sentences, both of which were a part of an actual phone conversation:

"It's not that I'm ignoring you, I just really want a popsicle."
or
"I'm drinking both wine and apple juice, and I'm not really sure if that's okay."

and, go.

Love is a Battlefield

2005-07-05T17:26:00.000-05:00

I've been waiting awhile to do two things.

One: to make my first post to this blog.

Two: order file folders and start to put everything that's currently in a pile on my desk into said folders.

Given the choices, I chose option one.

I also need to learn how to print labels for hanging file folders so that I don't have to put my sixth-grader-looking handwriting on them.

The choices, the choices. They're paralyzing.

I think maybe I'll start a column for this place called "Moreality" and it will be - you guessed it - about the mo-related things that come up in our lives.

For instance. Another choice that AML could have added to her list: Peter Beinart (smart, nerdy, intellectual, writer, faux-liberal) vs. Jesse Bradford (probably not smart, hot, vaguely compelling sort-of-actor).

Or: Merchant, or Ivory?

Digest: Life is All About Tough Choices

2005-07-05T17:10:00.000-05:00

Oil change or nap?
Halibut or monkfish? (4 to 2, monkfish, fyi)
Starbucks or single-payer health insurance?
work or play?
party on or stay home?
Elvis or The Beatles?

To some, these answers are obvious. Like how halibut is so much better than monkfish, duh.

But to others, the complexities of this world are such that one cannot make such a finite choice. In other words, as we all well know, the world is not black and white. Tom Cruise: crazy or sane? Well, he worships aliens, so that's not a good sign. But his movie just made, like, $120 million over the weekend, so that ain't bad either. So perhaps no matter what way you slice it, your blessings and your curses pretty much count for equal at the end of the day. And no matter how hard one tries, some people will never win online scrabble.

Perhaps even more importantly, today we also learned about willpower. About the moral strength inside us that got us to work on time (or relatively so), that helped us stare down our fears and addictions, that finally convinced us that vegetarianism is the only ethically sound form of food consumption, that bolstered our self-esteems in times of darkness, that allowed us to survive NPR related work fiascoes, among other difficult tasks.

Lesson of the day: Always tip your pizza delivery man!

P.S. Happy Birthday, America. The H. stands for Freedom.

Explainer: Why don't people care on the weekends?

2005-07-05T16:30:00.000-05:00

Take a moment to relax and sit back in your chair, close your eyes, and think about what you did this weekend.

Are you comfy? Can I get you some juice?

Take this weekend, for example: a National holiday centered around food and blowing up stuff, excellent weather, tennis on the telly, friends in from out of town, parties in hipster lofts with bathrooms bigger than my apartment, a wedding reception, plays, man-love, friendship. So much to do, and so little time in which to do it and get over the 7 vodka tonics you ingested "by accident" on Saturday night.

And so, internet, we have no time to placate you. Our attentions were elsewhere. We were doing. We were participating. The weekdays, the workdays, these are the days when our unmitigated boredom and distaste for effort are apparent.

So our apologies if you missed us, I suppose, but this is the way the cookie crumbles. Now I need a nap and about a month on the elliptical runner, so if you'll excuse me, I'll be off now.

--the management

monkfish vs. halibut

2005-07-05T15:45:00.000-05:00

If you had the option of the following two entree's which would you choose:

Poached Atlantic Monkfish
Asian Coconut Nage, Mussels and Clams
Plaintains, Gingered Pancake

or

Pan Roasted Alaskan Halibut
Confit Fingerling Potato and Rocket Salad
White Anchovy Cream, Acidic Mustard Jus

They both cost the same, but to you they are free.
Let me know your thoughts. Thanks!

The OT: Day 2

2005-07-01T16:11:00.000-05:00

I did brilliantly at OT, except that Anna picked up dysentery and then got bitten by a snake. I revived her only to drown her when I crashed the barge twice and she drowned along with some oxen, a shit load of food, all the wagon parts I had traded for and the clothes. I finished the trail August 24, 1848, with a score of 7,494 but did not make the List of Legends.

With Love,
Margo

Digest: The Day the Music Died

2005-07-01T15:39:00.000-05:00

It started off like a pretty regular day, and had so much promise: the three day weekend fast approaching, less than 80 degree weather for the first time in two weeks, fewer than half the people I know were at work, and Tom Cruise was about to make an ass of himself on national television...Simpler times, my children.

Then Sandra Day O'Connor decides to quit her job. Come on, Sandra, we all hate working. But we do it anyway, and you has the added benefit of being able to save America from self-destructively annihilating every ounce of freedom we have fought for and achieved over the last two centuries. Yeah, whatever. It's cool. I love horseback riding as much as the next girl.

So, I suppose the lesson is twofold: 1) never, ever plan your day around daytime television because it is always, always pre-emptied by something you could just as easily find on the internet; and 2) burn flags, worship mushrooms, have abortions, transport a person of color across state lines and spit chewing gum on the sidewalk now, because Bush is going to replace Justice O'Connor with all due haste and speed. If only those pesky Senate Democrats keeps their filthy, Hollywood blood-money-stuffed, terrorist-loving mouths shut.

But seriously, can you think of a more disheartening and jarring way to start your day? You are supposed to get to see the most unfathomably insane person on Earth talk about how aliens think you should get the hell out of therapy while simultaneously ignoring the fact that he paid a straight girl to be his professional beard, and instead you are greeted with the news that civil liberties as we have known them since All in the Family,M*A*S*H*, the Mary Tyler Moore Show and The Bob Newhardt Show compromised CBS's Saturday night laughin may very well be over. (oh, I looked that up online, btw.)

In other news: the best way to get to the 3rd floor of a building is to take the elevator. Stairs are also a good option, if the elevator isn't immediately available. Remember that, if you ever get another job interview. Also, a clean shirt never hurt anybody.

But no matter, for this is a holiday weekend. The Fourth of July can mean a lot of things to Americans in this time of war and conflict both at home and abroad, but really what it means is that we all get Monday off. I bet even Starbucks is closed on Monday. But somehow I feel in my heart that Reckless Records will remain open.

Rock on, Crocodile Rockers.

Digest: Original Sin

2005-06-30T16:31:00.000-05:00

So today was largely without incident, though Heidi's propensities to wake up early and to be scared of thunder and lightening were both evident early on in the day.

There will be cooking in our lives, and love! Salads galore! But what does one make for Breakfast at Wimbledon? The answer can apparently be found whatscookingamerica.net. How sweet it is. There was also a long discussion about parking permits, which centered not only around Chicago's desire to screw its own residents out of not only a place to smoke, but a place to park one's car as well. Because once you can't smoke in bars, you'll have to smoke in cars, kids. It's a fact, Jack. Rhyming sucks. No more of that.

Nothing too new on the TomKat front, though apparently she signed some kind of multi-million dollar 5 year deal. I wonder if she'll be traded for a couple of first round draft picks, because Cruise could certainly use some height in the post, and he likes to kiss men, not women. Bennifer got married and admitted that the Ennifer part of it was knocked up. Cool for them. Thanks for ruining my favorite show, you Ben Affleck kissing fool. Venus beat Sharapova in straight sets.

Much loves, yos. Catch you tomorrow.

westward

2005-06-30T11:29:00.000-05:00

by H.A.N. Thompson

The river is too deep to ford. You lose:
2 wagon tongues
70 pounds of food
2 oxen
margo (drowned)
melanie (drowned)
ann marie (drowned)

anna, jon and I will just have to soldier on!

Definitions

2005-06-29T16:46:00.000-05:00

middling (adj.)
1. Of medium size, position, or quality.
2. Mediocre. See Synonyms at average.

self-involved (adj.)
1. Absorbed primarily or only in one's own interests or activities.

platitude (n.)
1. A trite or banal remark or statement, especially one expressed as if it were original or significant. See Synonyms at cliché.
2. Lack of originality; triteness.

The Origin Story

2005-06-29T16:42:00.000-05:00

by A.M. Lonsdale

On a hotter night in June of 2005, while sitting about drinking at the Happy Village’s lovely outdoor garden, growing dinosaur sponges in the remnants of ice water and gin and tonics, an idea was conceived of liberty and dedicated to the proposition that all men are created equal, and that all books sound like a good idea while you are suffering form heatstroke.

This book project is dedicated to all those persons, and they know who they are, who take no joy in the triumphs and failures of the authors. Furthermore, this book will change their lives.

The Rules:
1. Don’t just spell check; ask a friend or loved one to read over your work.
2. There will be little to no discussion of the following: Jeff Greggs, babies, competitive calorie counting, work, Heidi Coleman, and haterating.
3. This book will surely contain references to the following: Lindsay “The Blowhan” Lohan, TomKat, Wonkette/Rick Santorum, homosexuality, Scrabble; celebrity sightings of any and all kinds; compulsive shopping, Potluck, foreign films, cheese, the Clinton Presidency, The O.C., Beirut and/or Conflict Diamonds, the Boston Red Sox, and probably theater.
4. None of the people working on the book should have to go to jail to protect a source.
5. This book will be neither pictorial nor historical in nature. It may, however, take place in South Dakota.
6. Don’t have sex with out interns. Our parents aren’t those kinds of lawyers.
7. Plagiarism is not advised. What with the internet these days, you can’t be too careful.

Other Suggestions:
As the title suggest, everything about this book will be half-assed. Except its inherent genius, which will transform the modern world. JK, JK. Well, you know. Think of it thematically, conceptually, whateverally. This is a mixture of fiction and fact, a combination of memoir and wishful thinking and a distinct chance to employ our University of Chicago educations to their intended use: not photocopying.

The book might follow the basic “plot structure” of Dave Eggars’ A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius. Therefore, reading the book while not drunk and in college might be a good idea. There are many funny formatting, structural, and emotional points that will serve our work immensely. For example, Eggars’ work includes a “List of Ways to Enjoy this Book,” which is witty and a fresh way to introduce our concept, such as it is. Alternately, Eggars’ own description of his time auditioning, and ultimately not being cast, in the MTV show The Real World San Francisco, would be another fun thing to appropriate in one way for another. Think of this as a guideline or possibly as a touchstone., like the story of Odysseus was a guideline, though far from a stylistic burden, for Joyce’s Ulysses. For this reason, the first edition of ‘Middling Work’ will be published in French.

The book will ultimately find its inspiration from the daily emails of our list. Unfortunate as our circumstances may be, the list provides a forum for the sharing of ideas, humor, newsworthy events, obsessions, and moral support (when not discussing ex-boyfriends and mundane jobs). Because of the rapid response nature of the list, the book will possibly require us to trove deeper into our own intellects to make things make sense. I would, however, posit that a list of news items about Katie Holmes and Tom Cruise would be a perfect addition to a chapter on love, commitment or religion.

This book will, as a reflection of our own lives, have an obvious liberal media bias. Please plan all career advancement opportunities at Fox, NPR or PBS accordingly.

Obviously, issues such as publicity and corporate sponsorship are in the works. If you know someone who owns something, tell them to sponsor us. It’s like having a cycling team, but without drug tests or international competition or bikes.

A word of advice: the publishing industry is dying. They need us more than we need them. This is like a revolution, only way less effort.