Convictions trump confections

Among other perks, my fabulous employer supplies us with snacks and food at random, and today it's team spirit football cupcakes. I abhor all sports but football in particular, and hearing about pre-season games sends me into a tizzy. If two opposing teams are playing one another on a field in front of an audience, it makes absolutely no sense not to count it, unless you want to eke out more money from your rabid fans.

So, do I have a moral obligation to abstain? Is consuming a cupcake an unspoken way of giving my approval of "Who-Dey," the Ben-Gals and pre-season fever? I think it is, so not even a dollop of icing will cross these lips.

Where oh where is spring?

I spent the afternoon going through some old dishes of my grandmother's and straightening up my apartment in preparation for some guests next weekend (well, mostly watching old episodes of "Felicity" and eating LaRosa's pizza on the couch).

In sorting through boxes I found these china coffee mugs. I'm normally not real big on things with flowers on them because then I think about all the plants I murder through neglect and laziness, but they remind me of late Grandma J (or "Big El," as we affectionately called her) so cherish them I shall. However, notably missing is a mug for Springtime.

Definitely B

Adapted from a former coworker's query:

Let's suppose there's this hot dog. It's been cooked, but has been on the office floor for three days (bunless). No one has stepped on it, but it's pretty dusty. Would you:

A) Eat the hot dog whenever you got hungry.
B) Eat the hot dog for minor compensation (less than $50).
C) Eat the hot dog, but only for major compensation (over $500).
D) Only eat the hot dog in an Alive-type situation.
E) Never eat the hot dog, no matter what.

There is one "i" in quitter

Even though I'm a heathen, I appreciate zombie jesus day as much as the next person. With such seasonal treats as Starburst jelly beans, Cadbury Eggs and fake tinsel grass, who wouldn't? Egg dyeing kits were on clearance, and since I spent a non-resurrection-y Sunday, I decided to dye some eggs.

But searching the internet for egg boiling instructions takes a good 15 minutes (if you're easily confused), and hard boiling a dozen eggs takes over an hour (if you do it wrong). By 10:00, setting up little cups for each color and then cleaning up the mess was sounding less and less appealing. So Gilmore Girls won the day, and I will be eating plain, white hard boiled eggs every day as a nutrient-heavy pre-run snack.

Gross negligence

This plant was $3 at Ikea, but just because it cost less than a McDonald's value meal doesn't mean it shouldn't get TLC like any other living thing. There's someone who is guilty of staring at it for 40+ hours a week and neglecting to take three minutes to walk over to the kitchenette and provide it with the scant handfuls of water that it needs to thrive. Whomever that person is, they deserve only scorn. This person should get a handle on his or her procrastination problem and water plants, finish taxes and complete book club novels.

Also, it's Opening Day! I'd say "Go Reds" if I lived in Cincinnati, which I may or may not. Even if I DID live in Cincinnati, it's possible that I have no idea whom the Reds are playing anyway.

I love it when Bonds wins at that game that he plays.

Freaky Friday

Just got off the phone with my super cute mom for a postmortem on our respective weekends. My 60-yr-old parents had a great time at the Taylor Swift concert last night, and 29-yr-old me rocked it hard with a LaRosa's calzone, The English Patient and was asleep by midnight. I'm pretty sure we all enjoyed ourselves about equally.

Now, back to my Sunday. Lorelai and Rory await.

Movies I cry during:

1. Schindler's List ("This pin. Two people. This is gold. Two more people. He would have given me two for it, at least one. One more person. A person, Stern. For this.")

2. The English Patient

3. Magnolia

5. Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants (the original -- certainly not the watered-down sequel)

6. 27 Dresses

Every time.

Apt metaphors are almost as good as roadtrips

This bridge leads out of my aunt's neighborhood. It has to be a metaphor for my life, somehow (or maybe just a metaphor for vacations). I mean, it's a one-way covered bridge-- that sounds meaningful, so it must be. Something about determinedly traveling forward on one's chosen path? Or, maybe patiently waiting while gathering the stick-to-it-ive-ness to move forward? Oh, how about having obstacles in the way but using the structures of our society to navigate forth?






Plus, it's fucking quaint as hell.

Those Gilmore Girls DVDs aren't going to watch themselves

My progress in plowing through Gilmore Girls season one was stalled by a road trip to visit family and one of my bosom friends down South. The dear friend and I really Southern-ed it up by eating barbecue and collard greens, saying "y'all" and wandering through the sleepy gardens of Magnolia Plantation.

To my delight, we happened upon the very Southerniest of scenes and I captured it with my low-quality camera: a group of young ladies and gentlemen playing croquet in Battery Park, wearing hats, suits and plaid pants. Ironically done or not, it doesn't get any more genteel than that.




On an unrelated note, happy St. Patrick's Day to all. I celebrated by going grocery shopping, eating week-old chicken noodle soup and not wearing green. I ask you to join me in hoping that no drunken revelers stumble down from my neighborhood bar and try to enter my house as has happened in the past.

running outside > treadmill

Why it's better:

• It enables me to create bulleted lists, which I enjoy.
  
  
• Neighborhood kitties.
  
  
• Good people-watching, including Dude Pitching Golfballs on Sidewalk and Cute Mom Walking Viszla While Carrying Baby in Yellow Duck Jammies
  
  
• It's so easy to switch back and forth from fast to slow to match the tempo of my non-Apple mp3 player. Miley Cyrus's "Party in the USA": Speed up! Dulcet tones of Regina Spektor (phew, that's not as embarrassing): Slow down!
  
  
• Vitamin D. Thanks, sunshine! This encourages me to run farther, making me feel less guilty for eating whole blocks of cheese for dinner.
  

Why it's worse:

• Hills. That one on [street name omitted so as to foil internet stalkers' plans to creepily stalk] is excessive.
  
  
• Drinking fountains not as conveniently located.
  
  
• Sometimes, you see men peeing and/or wacking off in the alley near neighborhood pizza places. It's distracting enough to throw off one's pace, but hmmm, I guess it does inspire faster running.
  
  
  

Drive sober and insured or not at all

These lawyers are all of the minds that they can sweet-talk me into suing the Drunkee McNoInsurancePants who ran into me a fortnight ago. They think I have the time and inclination to pursue that ne'er-do-well for pain, suffering and costs incurred. They're all sorely mistaken, however, because I'm choosing to spend my time and inclinations elsewhere. Mostly on things like watching 'LOST,' talking about 'LOST,' kvetching about how the previous driver of my rental car was a smoker, and waiting eagerly for my 'Gilmore Girls' box set to arrive.

As if being a consumptive weren't bad enough.

The Sprinkles on Today's Suck Sundae:

• The public library carries zero seasons of Gilmore Girls. This charming romp through small town Stars Hollow includes an episode in which 16-yr-old Rory oversleeps and misses a quiz (episode two -- I've only gotten through episode four so no spoilers). The public library does, however, carry Grey's Anatomy in its entirety. This series includes an episode in which one of the doctors fractures his penis (episode 91, and it was Dr. Sloane, btw).

• I ran into my ex husband at Blockbuster video while looking for season one, disc two of Gilmore Girls.

• Neither my local Blockbuster store nor even any of the outlying Blockbuster locations carry any seasons of Gilmore Girls.

• The movie Sunshine Cleaning is a poor substitute for an evening spent with Lorelai and Rory Gilmore.
  

On the Brighter Side:

• Ex husband could stand to drop a few lbs. My recent bout with consumption kept me on a steady diet of UDF milkshakes and popcorn and has severely curtailed any gymgoing, but luckily that has yet to show any physical affects.
  

• The peach juice I bought on a whim in the Greek section at Jungle Jim's goes awesome with Diet 7UP.
  

The Science of Hobos

I took a shamefully low number of photos on my recent trip to Boston, and the odd ones I did take are in no way indicative of how much fun I had (which was a bunch).

I was surprised to see an entire exhibit on hobos at the Science Museum. The thing I like about hobos is that they are by their very nature a disorganized group (well, besides the annual National Hobo Convention). So there hasn't yet been any large movement to discourage people from making fun of bindles and boxcar jumping. I'm sure that it'll soon be un-PC, but until then I plan to keep using the word "hobo" as an insult.



Marking this outside a person's home indicates that they have a gun. Kind of like, "Stick 'em up, triangle!"



Took this one on a recent (just as fun) road trip down South. I really admire this vendor's confidence.

Chirp chirp

Two out of the three people who read this have commented that I've been a bit MIA these days, which is the kick in the pants I need to get back to posting meaningless jibber-jabber. The explanation for my absence? I've been busy/life is crazy/out of town/other cliched platitudes.

Speaking of cliches, I'm totally into twitter these days. I just can't help it--it allows me to express myself in non-sequiturs to my little heart's content.

If you are a skeptic, read this article about how twitter will change the way we live.

I decided to change my profile from restricted to public (I got nothin' to hide), so was proofing my entire feed to make sure there wasn't anything particularly objectionable or embarrassing (okay, so I DO have something to hide). My first three posts really illustrate how slowly the love affair with twitter develops:

still doesn't "get" twitter. 9:21 AM Jan 29th from web

forgot about twitter. 8:22 PM Feb 13th from web

is not an active twitter participant.
9:38 PM Mar 11th from web

Now, I post at least once a day, and sometimes upwards of four or five times. The best part for me is that there are endless opportunities for snark and meta-tweeting.

Give twitter a chance, and you'll fall in love with it just like I did.

I am the office Farrah

If you're a friend of mine on Twitter, you know that I am very predictable. At least 40% of my updates are hummus-related (the other 60% involve Flight of the Conchords). I eat my morning snack at roughly 10:30, as mentioned, and have done so for the past three years. Usually, it involves the best hummus ever (well, at least from the selection at the Kroger down the street).

A few years ago, I noticed that my hummus stockpile was depleting at a more rapid pace than usual, but I attributed it to my own absent-mindedness and lack of awareness about my own hummus intake. One day, though, it was clear when I looked at the scraped-clean container that something was amiss. Someone had been helping him or her self to the manna from heaven! Despite weeks of complaining and passive-aggressive notes, I never did discover who the culprit was. I suspect this person is no longer with our company, because my hummus has remained unburgled ever since.

My boss found this gem in our new building before it was gutted and renovated, and gave it to me in honor of my extreme crustiness about the Hummus Debacle. I still have it hanging in my cubicle as a reminder to be vigilant with passive-aggressive notes whenever such situations arise.

Part 1:


Part 2: