I'll understand when I'm older

The Red Light Special is Only $100

2010-02-18T04:09:00.010+05:30

February is a bad, bad month for my 1995 Ford Taurus, as evidenced by last year's hit and run and windshield bashing and this accident four years ago. This year is no exception, which I discovered when I received by mail today this photo of me blatantly running a red light. Yep. You caught me, technology.

This feels a little like when you go on one of the "Xtreme" rides at an amusement park and they take your picture and try to sell it to you for egregious amounts of money. Only in this scenario, the ride is only extreme because you're voluntarily defying oncoming traffic in an attempt to get 20 feet ahead before you have to stop again for the next red light. Also, it's much more costly. This particular photo is $100 of amusement park fun!

Here's where I must declare my dissatisfaction with Chicago's growing camera enforcement program. Why? Because it destroys the very essence that makes Chicago driving -- nay -- Chicago CULTURE, what it is. You see, I'm not exaggerating when I say that at any given intersection in Chicago, when the light turns red you will see three- to five more vehicles slip on through. It's just what our fast-paced, angry, concrete-dwelling Chicagoan hearts do. We can't help it, see?

This photo, besides calling out the sincerity of my Chicagoan pride, what does it say? It sends this message, this awful, denigrating message that things are changing 'round here. That yes, even in this windy, crooked city someone out there thinks we can all become regular, law-abiding citizens. And they have taken it to the roads.

{siiiigh}

Ironically, I bought a bike today. Let's see your cameras catch my Schwinn, Chicago Dept. of Revenue! Well, I've paid my $100. My car, Treasure, should be good to go until next February (although March has also brought on its share of disaster), and if I can be grateful for one thing about Chicago's changing front on this Ash Wednesday, it is this: Maybe soon I'll be able to put ketchup on my hot dog and not receive death glares.

Why I should've mulled that gift over some more

2009-08-27T06:45:00.004+05:30

Last fall I bought Andy an XBox360 and gave myself personal pats on the back for being a winning girlfriend. What I didn't consider is the paranoia-inducing online integration of this splendid device, and how that gift would come to serve the same purpose as the man I regularly see "walking" in Hillsboro with his arms flailing, shouting marching orders to HIMSELF with a single outstretched finger, violently jutting outward to the rhythm of an unidentified but likely upbeat song on his ipod: it creeps me out.

Andy's recently gotten into playing Halo 3 while hooked in to XBox LIVE, which allows him to converse with other players from around the globe. Thankfully, he wears a headset to spare me the obscene ramblings of adolescent boys and 35-year-old basement-dwellers. But that also means I only hear what he says to his teammates, which means I'll be in the kitchen washing dishes when I'll hear this:

Andy: Watch out - there's a guy behind you! I can't get there in time!!!
Me: What?!?!
Andy: He's to your left! TO YOUR LEFT!!!
Me: [heart sinks to balls of feet, senses impending death, looks to the left, cries in rocking motion on floor]
Andy: Ha! Red team got him. Niiiiiiice.

If you've never been tested as to whether your response in life or death situations is fight or flight, this is a great way to do so. Let's just say that if you surprise me in my home, you may be the victim of flying culinary tools.

Other random gametime outbursts I hear from the other room include those that make me chuckle:
"Get in, get in, get in! Ugggghhh!"

Those that make me concernicus:
"Is anyone there? Who's there?"

... And those that sound just plain psychotic:
"We're going to die. We're all going to diiieee!!!"

Urban Nomadicism for Dummies

2009-07-14T09:41:00.009+05:30

A recently-starred item in my RSS feed is a post by young entrepreneur Ben Casnocha called "Urban Nomadicism: The Sources of Unhappiness for Serial Travelers". As an IT consultant who has spent eight of the past ten months cross-country commuting full time, I took an interest in it. I'd like to give some input that supports a lot of Ben's statements, but hopefully offers some additional food for thought.

In his analysis of the (un)happiness of "professional vagabonds," Ben calls out three main culprits (indented text is from his post):

Rootlessness

"Home" changes over the course of one's life. It starts at your place of birth. Half of Americans live within 50 miles of their birthplace. For the other half, what you consider home evolves over the course of time. The most comfortable transition is when "home" goes from A to B with no interlude. You might grow up in San Francisco (home), then move to Los Angeles (SF still home for awhile), until one day you realize that "home" is LA. Boom. It switches. But if you grow up in San Francisco (home), then move to LA, then move to Chicago, then Beijing, then Sydney, at some point SF no longer feels like home, but nor do any of the other cities. Where is your hearth? Where do you go for nurturance and renewal?

I’m still not sure what to call home. A very regular conversation I have with friends I make in Portland goes like this:
A: So where are you from?
D: Originally I’m from Minnesota, but I live in Chicago now.
A: [pause, confusion] So … are you just visiting here then?
D: No, I’m here full time. But I LIVE live in Chicago. Where are you from?
A: I’m from ___________.
D: Oh, that’s great! I love it there!
A: You’ve been?
D: Well, I lived there for 4 months.
A: Wow, where else have you lived?
D: [pulls out world map] …
So yes, it’s confusing not knowing what to call home. But I’d like to argue that home can be more than one place. I find true renewal and nurturance at the three places I’ve lived the longest: Minnesota, Colorado and Chicago.

Shallowness of relationships

The best way to build intimacy in a relationship is to spend quality in-the-flesh time with each other. If you're always on the go, or never in the same place for more than a few years, intimacy can be hard to come by. It's hard to involve yourself in a long-term relationship if you're nomadic. It's true even for friendships. Thanks to technology it's rare that a friendship would ever move backwards in the absence of physical interaction -- maintenance is easy these days -- but technology can not accelerate intimacy in the way physicality does. It can even be hard to motivate yourself to invest in relationships as you think to yourself, "I'm leaving in six months anyway, what's the point in trying to find a best friend?" (People who have issues with intimacy of course will embrace this aspect of the traveler's life.)

I think this depends on the approach you take. Yes, there is a lot of truth to the statement that physical interaction beats virtual. But that doesn’t mean it’s impossible to kindle a friendship through digital means. I've met lots of people through Twitter and Meetup, but more on that in a bit.

Identity confusion

Where do I belong? Does the country name on my passport still accurately reflect my deepest national ties? How do I answer the question, "Where are you from?" If I'm living in a country where I am not a native speaker, will I ever be treated as a local?

In my mind this is fairly intertwined with rootlessness, so I’ll defer to my above response.

-----------------------------------------------------

I am often asked "how do you do it?" with regards to the state-to-state bunny hop, and the true concerns embedded in that question come straight from the list above. It could often be rephrased as simply “Are you actually happy?”. While I don’t believe that unhappiness is in the cards for everyone who chooses a life on the move, I do agree that if you don’t regularly assess your personal requirements for stable contentment, the travel bug will bite you sharply in the ass.

In no order other than how they came to mind, here are other factors that significantly contribute to the constant traveler’s lifestyle.

1. Personality. If you’ve got a penchant for nightly neighborhood BBQs and group movie nights, the traveling lifestyle might be more difficult for you. Conversely, frequent travel lends itself well to those less likely to be the life of the party because you’re surrounded by new ways to self-entertain all the time. When I spent a few months in Houston, the phrase “I’m in Texas” alone was enough to boggle and humor my mind for hours. That and the hair, God bless it.

Most, though, aren’t strictly people-persons or non-people-persons. I can socialize 'till the cows come home, but in reality I'm sort of an introvert. That surprises people, but I often prefer exploring on my own, be it an art museum or the tangled streets of a new city. I suppose the argument that brings is whether the more minor instances of joy from entertainment and exploration can actually constitute a deeper sense of happiness. At the risk of venturing in to gray-er and fuzzier territory, let’s keep looking at some other contributing factors.

2. Age. I’m 25 and female. Most of the people in line with me at airport security on Mondays at 4:30a.m. are 40- to 50-year-old men. There isn’t a whole lot of interaction between us, which I’ve come to accept. But whether it’s my “youth” or something else contributing to this feeling, I do wish we would take note of all the reasons to smile. Yes, it’s early. Yes, you’ve got a long day ahead (Mondays are the WORST when you’re flying West over time zones). I’ve always been excited to board a plane. But now that I board one every week, I feel sad to be one of the few who seems happy at the airport. How's that for irony? The people you’re sitting near may be fresh off their first time abroad, or maybe they just climbed Kilimanjaro. The amazing stories and energies to be found at airports are undoubtedly quashed to some degree by the worn-out, “don’t speak to me” expressions of us commuter drones.

Aside from the few hours spent actually in-transit, I believe age plays a role in how happy you can be as a full-time traveler. It’s practically second nature for me to go online to see what my options are for finding a social circle in a new place. Meetup.com allows me to find people I know I’d have fun with, and do things people my age do. If I’m backpacking alone, I’m likely at a hostel where finding a day trip buddy is a cinch. I can also update my status on Twitter and Facebook, and search my networks to see if anyone is in the area. Those tools have made a huge difference to my business travel experience. For example, a friend from college, with whom I’d been relatively out-of-touch, lives in Portland. I didn’t remember that until she responded to my post on Twitter. Now ~~I stalk her~~ we hang out regularly and have become close, great friends.
An older business traveler not likely to have such in-depth involvement in online social experiences won’t have the same ease in building a community wherever they may be. That’s changing, but for the majority of adults, online social interactions are still on the to-do list.

3. Relationship status. This one is obviously a biggie. Long-distance is hard, no doubt about it. It sucks to not be physically present with the one you love. But it also ups the quality of the time you do get to spend together. I wouldn’t say it balances out to an even trade; I would rather take my Andy with me wherever I go. But if there’s one thing you can do, it’s focus on the bright side of a long-distance relationship, which for me means exciting dates, a deeper appreciation for all Andy does to keep things in order while I’m away (the cats have survived!) and more doting on each other. ☺

I could go on and on, but oh, look! I’ve already done that! Without explanation, here’s a list of some other considerations:

Are you a first-timer? Or have you been running this track for years?
Where are you going? Are you jumping from country to country each week or do you have just one or two prime locations you split your time between? I commute between Chicago and Portland, and when I'm missing "home", I take a few minutes to step outside into the green, fresh air of the Northwest. My mood immediately changes when I can be grateful for getting to experience a different part of the country.
How involved are you in your hometown? Did you have to give up on an intramural beach volleyball league, church choir? Are you unable to take on leadership positions in groups you’re a part of?

Any of those are going to have an impact on the level of true happiness you can maintain if you're always on the go.

So, now that that’s off my chest, what do you think? I’m interested to hear what you have to say in the comments!

UNIQLO is a neat name for something completely obscure

2009-07-10T08:04:00.007+05:30

My favorite new calendar. I can't wait for them to come out with an electronic wall-calendar version of this. An electric t-shirt calendar version would be even sweeter.

For an extra-fun Friday night, simultaneously open this baby in five different windows.

*Thanks to my good friend the SuggestionBoxer! Is it cool that you request I post something new, and when I finally do it's something I stole from your blog? Sorry.

Note: There's some some fantastic music (Fantastic Plastic Machine feat. Gen Tamura) you can turn on by clicking in the lower right corner of the photo (above the date).

And after he brought me Earl Grey with zested orange peel

2009-05-28T08:18:00.002+05:30

There is this thing happening that's got me sort of weirded out, but also kind of in awe. I have friends (that's not the thing) having babies. Actual babies. As in, they are parents (aka 'rents). Of real. human. beings. Miniature ones, but people, nonetheless. I'm still getting over the fact that I am responsible for two furry creatures that require nothing more from me than the occasional scooping motion: scoop food into dish. pause. scoop poop out of other larger, sand-filled dish. repeat. And I'm not even home to do that 80% of the time, so I push it off onto my amazing boyfriend who lovingly takes on those responsibilities for mere ~~pennies~~ Xbox360 games.

That's terrible kitty-mothering at its best. However, I do still want to brag about my little guys, because one of them plays fetch. Yeah, that's right. Can your infant do that?! Notice I said "one of them." The other one doesn't do anything special. Seriously. Since I've already overstepped the bounds of pet obsession while simultaneously insulting babies, I'll go ahead and continue that trend by posting video of my cat playing fetch.

Update: Barley's fave toy is a hair binder (that's "hair tie" to all you non-Minnesotans). He hoards them somewhere when he gets them, but when he feels like playing fetch with one he will first drop it in his water dish and soak it before excitedly dropping it on or around one of us. Naturally, I assumed this was indicative of his lack of intelligence, but then I googled "cat drops toy in water" and holy lord! There are cats upon cats dousing their toys in water prior to playing with them. I can only assume they're pretending it's a blood-soaked fresh kill. Because wet elastic is what I would use, too. It takes a special kind of cat to reach that level of mediocrity.

#didimention

2009-05-08T20:04:00.006+05:30

Oftentimes the little factoids that could potentially bond us to our online buddies don't come into play because, really, who starts a conversation with "I've got six toes" or "I'm metallophobic (afraid of metal)".

But who knows who might relate to that? Without further ado, I present the #didimention tag.

Here are the "rules" (which you may or may not follow, depending on your level of twetiquette)
1. Be truthful. No "#didimention I am the president of the United States" when that title belongs to one person and one person only: Michelle Obama.
2. Use it, don't abuse it. No one needs to hear 500 things about you daily. Just like any other hashtag, use #didimention to spark conversation -- not the apocolypse -- among your followers/followees.
3. Be funny. Be surprising. Be heartfelt and passionate. But be nice.

Now on with your lives! Get ye back to Twitterville and spread the word!

... btw, I actually did have an irrational fear of metal until I was about 18. #didimention I've been shocked twice by electric fencing?

Happy Easter. My duck is dead.

2009-04-12T23:34:00.007+05:30

The duck story comes farther down the page. Have patience, friend.

Yeah, yeah - we all like chocolate. And it's even more exciting when molded into fun oval shapes and crammed into larger plastic oval shapes. And hidden from you. On second thought, let's just be grateful Easter comes but once a year.

Sarcasm aside, I do love a good Easter egg hunt*. But if your Spring tastes wander beyond jellybeans and sparkly marshmallows with ear-like protrusions, here are two non-edible items that will dazzle your olfactory senses into sweet, zingy anticipation for that wondrous season just around the corner: ~~BEACH BOSSABALL~~ SUMMER.

C.O. Bigelow Lemon & Pomegranate Body Cream** While acai has officially replaced pomegranate as the "in" fruit of the day, Pomegranate is still hangin' in there in this sweet and tangy scrumptiousness. Smooth like butta, just don't eat it.

C.O. Bigelow Lemon & Lime Body Tonic (Toning Citrus Formula) The label says to spritz this on after a bath to "refresh, brighten, and tone while delicately scenting the skin". I choose to forgo that suggestion and instead bathe entirely in it to heavily douse my skin in this invigorating tonic. To each his own. Anyone missing Bath & Body Works' Limelight scent (circa mid- to late-nineties ... R.I.P.) will find inklings of it in this spray. Go get it!

*Especially when it leads to a box full of adorable baby ducklings under the desk, which you then get to raise into full-grown ducks and bubble with child elation over having been gifted such an awesome pet, only to learn far too early the true beastly nature that is the circle of life when one-by-one each of those ducks is taken, strangled and eaten in the middle of the night by that asshole owl that happens to live in your backyard. True story. ONE. BY. ONE. RIP, Mountains. ***

**I'm not paid by anyone or anything to say this. Just payin' it forward, C.O. Bigelow. Payin' it forward ... Also, these products are available at Bath & Body Works and probably other places.

***That's two times I've had to wish something a peaceful afterlife. And on Easter! This holiday just gets suckier and suckier. Except Jesus is back now. Yay! Welcome to earth again! ... watch your back around the owls.

"Or-a-gone"

2009-03-30T10:21:00.007+05:30

Three weeks in Portland and I've already stopped pronouncing it "OR-A-GONE". And other fun stories about my initial jaunt into the Pacific Northwest.

This rain? Nonstop? I don't know how this is dealt with by law abiding citizens, but I am about 10 windshield wipes away from finding a way to clear the clouds here via some form of accellerated ozone depletion. If we all die, so be it - at least we'll be smiling from all that Vitamin D!

I pulled over to the side of the road last week because I saw a sign reading "Wolf Cubs". As in 100% ARCTIC. WOLF. BABIES. ... Adorable. And surprisingly legal to own as pets in Oregon, along with pretty much any other exotic or wild animal. It might have been the only thing technically legal about the man with the swastika tattoo selling the little munchkins.

While Andy and I walked along the beaches of Ecola State Park this weekend, I came across a message in a bottle. I'm not even kidding - it was a letter rolled up and corked into a Boylan's Creme Soda bottle, and it had washed up on shore. I opened it, and to my disappointment it wasn't from who I hoped. It was instead from Nik, and it began with this:

Dear Grandpa,
Today is your funeral ...

What followed was a heartwarming letter reliving happy memories and inside jokes, good times lost and the hard times that loss was bringing now. It made me think of my own grandpa, who I haven't seen since he died when I was in 5th grade. The bottle had begun to leak and smear the ink, so I'm letting it dry and will lend it back to the sea for someone else to find when I get the chance.

We also saw some stunning stick man warning signs, but that's for a whole new post (you think I'm kidding).

Oregon is a full service gas station state. I did not know such a place existed, but I have to say it's a little strange, and being a bit of a DIY freak, I don't really like tipping for something I've always done on my own. It's not like we're talking about replacing the engine here, we're talking about refilling the gas tank using the same buttons, card swipes and tubes we're all very familiar with (except you Oregonians, eh?). Am I being silly? Does everyone tip? Am I a miser if I don't? What else is full service here -- nightly tuck-ins? Now THAT would be awesome.

Portland's music scene is fantastic. Or so I've heard. But based on the local FM radio selections, I'm a little confused. There seem to be about 15 stations, and I'm pretty sure at least 7 of them are Christian. Just tonight I was flipping through and happened upon one of my faves from back when I was all about that friendly bearded hippie and I wonder what, exactly, I found so "awesome" about this song:

When the toast is burned and all the milk has turned and Captain Crunch is waving farewell

When the Big One finds you let this song remind you that they don't serve breakfast in hell

I don't know what it is about cereal allegories, but doesn't that just strike right where it hurts to achieve the intended lightning bolt of warning? No breakfast in Hell? WHAT?!?! Sweet Baby Jesus, call my hitman and cancel that "appointment" today - I can't imagine afterlife without my Wheaties.

---

Right now I'm listening to Lambchop's Kurt Wagner croon sweet nothings into my iTunes library and it's putting me into a peaceful Sunday calm. I'll take that over Satan-steals-Cheerios any day.

Fake it 'til you make it ... unless that's going to break it

2009-03-19T10:41:00.005+05:30

That title will appropriately be filed away under "Never write a self help book because people will quickly come to hate you". And I'm going with it anyway.

I got my first dose of "corporate life" in a foreign country, India, where acronyms flow like a river to the sea and the only thing that keeps these 2-to-45 letter "words" from becoming an entity unto themselves is the fact that there is no "i" in team - and acronyms? They just don't play well with others. That includes me.

I have always thought there is something winning about the phrase "fake it 'til you make it". Let me be clear that I don't mean to imply that credentials and skills aren't necessary. Here's how I see it: If you always say "I can't" to opportunities beyond your scope of knowledge (or SOK), you're saying no to the chance for a speed date with a skill set. Any language instructor will tell you that you'll learn faster and speak more confidently if you fully immerse yourself in both the language and the culture.

But in the business world, it's a bit different. When you're at a new job it is part of the drill to be so overwhelmed with information that your eyes begin to glaze over at the mention of another process or strategy, or the 10,000th introduction. I guess that's what I mean when I use "fake it". Because no one gets it exactly right the first time. I can't tell you how many times in the past two weeks I've sat in a training session going "holy moses, I think I get it!", only to walk out to my cubicle and go wait, what was that about? And in the meantime I've also forgotten how doorknobs work. But you give it time to sink in, and the concept will come back. You'll "make" it.

Acronyms, however, are a different ballgame. You can't "fake" that, and you shouldn't try. I mistook what I thought was an "Indian thing" for what is actually a corporate thing. A Frankenstein language of portmanteaus and unjustifiable letter-pairings - NO! - caboodlings, slathered together in a monstrous incongruity from all levels of every division, support group and project launch imaginable. AND YOU HAVE TO KNOW THEM ALL. Seriously. Just get it over with. Start an index. A gant chart. A Six Sigma Methodology for acronym documentation. Whatever. But don't glaze over those little buggers, or you're going to regret it when your boss comes screaming at you for not completing the DART, REFLM, tracker a la mode, etc. Bite the bullet and ask that it be spelled out - literally - when you have no idea what the iSPAWN division does (I Secretly Prance Around While Naked).

And good luck, friend. May the *GoFWo be with you.

*Gods of Fake Word-ology

Yo ho yo ho, a jetlagged life for me

2009-03-11T10:58:00.007+05:30

This month has brought with it a few firsts for me. I backed up my MacBook (I've had it for two years ... my bad). Andy and I moved to Wicker Park/Ukrainian Village in Chi-town, and I greedily consumed the world's best burrito at the frequently imitated but never duplicated La Pasadita, just two blocks away. Oh, I also began a 100% travel position with Intel in Portland, from which I write this post.

The project itself is a fantastic one, complete with pirates, magic beanstalks and social media campaigns. I have thus far found myself surrounded by bright, creative minds who are teaching me far more than they might realize. (If you're reading this, guys - thanks. I'm taking notes and plan to kick ass.) This opportunity is an exciting one for me, and challenging. I'll be frank about it: that makes me love it even more.

But some challenges are ... well, challenging. I'm back to hotel life again. As it is set up now, I'll be here for two weeks at a time and then head home for a weekend. Lather, rinse, repeat, month after month. I would be lying if I said that wasn't hard for me. There's Andy, who I'll miss like crazy and that goes without saying. There are the cats, who just might nuzzle Andy to death from lack of attention and play. There's the amazing new apartment and neighborhood I got to spend a whole two weeks in before being absent 75% of the time.

... and then there are the oft-denied upsides:

Without my constant requests for footrubs and HGTV/Food Network/MTV/History Channel marathons, Andy's grades will skyrocket, not that you can really improve much on a 4.0. (I still like to credit that to my working in Houston last semester).
If anyone gets a cat's ass to the face in the middle of the night, it ain't gonna be me!
Portland is beautiful. My work has granted me the chance to really experience great places, both abroad and around my own country. But even more rewarding are the connections I've made with the people in those locales, and believe me - many of them are FAR more traveled than I. That means I always have ample opportunity to learn about and from them, and it helps me keep my end-goals in clear focus.
Absence makes the heart grow fonder. If you don't believe it, try it. If you dare.

If you're worried about the long-distance thing, or have the itch to go somewhere and try something new but are feeling that gut-wrenching fear of the unknown, here is my advice: Give yourself the benefit of pushing through that knot and give it a try. Just once. See how it feels on the other side of a tough decision, and then judge whether the grass is greener. Either way, you'll come out of it a more experienced human being, who, at the very least, can say you gave it a try.

And if you're looking for ideas, try Portland. I hear they've got ~~incredibly cool IT consultants looking for people to hang out with~~ tons of really tall trees.

A very accurate portrayal

2009-02-10T10:48:00.001+05:30

This nicely sums up the roles in my and Andy's relationship. Four years down the road and our minds still work so differently.

I love that about us!

clipped from xkcd.com

I'm An Idiot

Soon there will be rabid squirrels nesting in the engine.

2009-02-07T04:56:00.006+05:30

Some of you may recall a time when I was in a hit-and-run accident, and if you don't and you're a regular reader of this blog, you may want to see a doctor because that incident occured two days ago.

Today I have a whole new story involving my dear old Treasure. I really thought that cars aged like people, that they just get ornery and lose all sense of style, and hate the cold and anything involving more youthful, naive cars. But my '95 Taurus seems to be the exception. It's like he's a teenager again, and I fully suspect he has become involved in gang and/or mob activity. I expect tomorrow I'll be showing you video of his chalk outline, but as of today, here's this:

Bad Car-ma from Debbie Thiegs on Vimeo.

The kicker? After discovering the windshield I walked to the front of the car to find a ticket. What kind of cop sees a smashed-in windshield and thinks "I think my next step here is to charge her for expired license tabs." A great cop, that's what kind.

Magical

2009-02-06T01:38:00.005+05:30

In honor of my New Year's cake, I give you this:

Click it about a million times and you'll thank me when you need to distract a 4-year-old for an hour. Or unicorn-obsessed 25-year-olds. You know who you are.

*Thanks to cornify and Andrew Hyde!

My car never bodes well in February.

2009-02-04T04:00:00.004+05:30

I was involved in a hit and run today. I was on the receiving end, so not the good side ... unless of course you consider being the hittee and not the hitter the "good" side in the morally upstanding sense. But right now I'm seeing it in a violated sense, and that's not something I would consider good. But then again, after what I put the guy who hit me through, I doubt he'll be hit-and-running again anytime soon. I could also be totally, utterly wrong. But let us not dwell on the likely. Cool.

Oh, and fyi, in an attempt to lighten my own mood, I'm going to refer to this not as a "hit and run", but as a "hit 'n' run", or maybe even a "hit 'n' fun"? Because if I'm being a Debbie Upper here and not a Debbie Downer, I've got to look at the bright side. And the bright side of a hit 'n' fun is that you get to be part of a real live car chase. Commence the story.

I was driving down Montrose and went through a yellow light to the next intersection, which is really just another light in the middle of the same huge freaking intersection with room for two cars max, me being the second car. This guy in a decked out silver mini-sports car convertible behind me decides that rather than observe this calculable lack of room for another car he should just be an idiot and smash his car into mine. You know, so we can all fit in there in the middle of the intersection like a happy, cozy little car family. So he runs the red, crashes into me, and I'm like great, now I'm going to have to ~~kick this guy's ass~~ pull over and work this all out.

I notice he's got his blinker on so I turn right when the light turns green and begin to pull off to the side. This is when he slows down as though he's doing the same in one instant and in another he is flooring past me and zooms into the distance. Maybe I should have stayed put, taken down witness names (there were several present) and left it at that. But I did not do that, no. Oh, goodness, no. I put the pedal to the metal, high-tailed it after him and proceeded to chase a man around Chicago's north side for the next 10 minutes.

This guy, he pulled every trick in the book to try to ditch me. He attempted to cut me off by heading through several near-red lights, but could never time it just right. Then when a light turned green he would either A)not go right away, or B)Floor it and then slam on his breaks in an attempt to get me to crash into him. He wove. He actually DID pull over twice, and both times floored it shortly after I pulled up behind him. He made a U-turn in the middle of a busy street. I followed. It honestly felt like The Italian Job in a much more watered-down, "Yeah, I'm in a Taurus" way. Awesome. On top of that I laid on the horn like a circus-ready clown car and constantly signaled for him to pull over using full body flailing movements. ~~I looked completely crazy.~~ No one thought that was awkward.

Did I forget to mention that I Google-411ed the Chicago police during all of this? Yeah. Apparently the automated robotrons at Google DO NOT DETECT PANIC, and still manage to come up with a huge list of what you might mean when you say "POLICE, Chicago, Illinois".

Operator: I'm sorry, your request came up with too many options. What's your zipcode so we can narrow your results?
Me: 60625
Operator: ... Okay. We'll skip that part. Top 5 listings ...

I think I picked number four, which was the closest description to Chicago police I could decipher from the given options. But the phone, it just rang and rang, the whole time I'm trying to keep up with Mr. Hit'n'fun's shennanigans, and I finally just hung up. Next time I'm calling 911 without hesitation.

I am sad to say he finally lost me by cutting off a bus and wheeling to the right at a red light. I wasn't about to put myself or anyone else in danger for this guy. I did, of course, write down every detail I could, including a note about how horribly 90s this guy's sunglasses were. Iridescent sports shades with neon frames? Somebody arrest this guy for fashion homicide, OMG!

Here's the kicker: I'm not reporting it. There are a few reasons for this.
1) The damage he inflicted on my purty little Treasure is only an extension of damage already there from when this happened. Instead of having it fixed back then, I took a cash settlement from the insurance company, backpacked Europe with it, and have been driving with a cracked bumper ever since. So the insurance on the back bumper is null and void anyway. (Totally worth it, btw)

2) My tabs are 3 days expired. Yeah, yeah, that's not much of an argument, but can you imagine if after getting hit, losing a car chase, and dealing with filing reports with insurance and police, I am the one who gets in trouble?

3) It's way more stressful right now just thinking of having to deal with this than just letting it go and moving on. At the very least, I hope I make that guy think twice before screeching away from another accident scene. Do not piss off Debbie. She may be a Debbie Upper but she will throw DOWN. Or something. Screw it, I lost this one.

p.s. Right after I got home I bumped and shattered a ceramic pot of soil growing lavender, a plant that is ironically used to calm the nerves and bring on feelings of peaceful serenity.

Here's to a better tomorrow, folks. :) It could have been worse.

Quarter-Life Report

2009-02-03T01:45:00.020+05:30

It's been 2009 for about a month now. This time of year always finds me pondering life, maybe because my birthday is on the 10th of February. Every year someone inevitably asks "Feel any different?", and the past few years I have honestly said "not really". Why? I've done some amazing things that have had a huge impact on who I am. Not everyone can say they've boated through the jutting white rock coves of Cassis, snuggled with full-grown tigers in Thailand, or been barricaded into a Nature Reserve in the jungles of India for money. But at some point I began to define myself by all this stuff I was doing rather than what I was thinking or feeling.

And that's not very sustainable.

This past year has marked the first in many that I have spent a lot of time just sitting still with myself, and if I had to sum up the experience I would say this: IT SUCKED. But it may have been one of the most beneficial things I've ever done, this doing nothing. Here is what I learned:

Minds are not like bodies: If you feed them junk they won't grow fat.
... But they will get sluggish. Stop watching so much TV!!! I know - It's got a great storyline. It's the biggest show of the year. It's emotionally fulfilling. I can't tell you how many times I quashed a budding idea or great opportunity saying "I don't have the time," only to flip on the tube and watch the Bring It On series marathon on ABC Family. Because it is always on. EVERY. WEEKEND. The truth is not that you don't have time to do what you want to do. It's that you don't have your priorities set. So turn it off and set them.

One extracurricular a week can make a huge difference.
No, this isn't high school and you're not going to join the Model U.N. You're going to join something even better, out of the thousands of regular meetups and groups available to you for free. Try Meetup.com. I have learned to play Spades, built a healthy and fun community of social media groupies, and played board games at a bar, to name a few. And never have I come away thinking it wasn't well worth it.

Tap into others.
How many times a week do you sit silently next to someone you've never met (roughly six to ten for me)? What if you engaged in conversation with half of them? Know what they could tell you? Nope, but you will when you initiate a topic. I guarantee that more often than you think, you'll have a better day because of it. "Oh, but what if they think I'm weird? what if they are totally weird? What if they steal my kidney?!?" Screw kidneys. If these are your main concerns, you need more adventure anyways ... so go ahead and risk it.
*Shameless plug: If you give this a shot and take away something valuable (or possibly just hilarious), write it up and I'll post it over at StrangerSage.

Hang out with geeks.
There is nothing worse than a mental slump, and there are few things better to pull you out of one than full-blown, tape to the nose bridge, passionate geeks. They are everywhere (Hi! Right here!) and yes, they do want to talk to you about why they have invested five notebooks of thought into an elevator to space and how someday they are going to help make it happen.* Also, they usually like beer.

If the seeds sprouts, water it!
This is the most valuable thing I have begun to really act upon in the past year. VCs and investors will tell you there there is never a shortage of good ideas, but that problems arise from a lack of people willing or capable of digging in and making them real.
I recently tried to combat that personally and it has been no easy task -- but it IS rewarding. Sure, now I am constantly plotting and scheming, losing hours of sleep brainstorming and putting thoughts into motion. It's exhausting and energizing all at once ... and I can honestly say I am never bored anymore. No matter what or who is around me. Never.

... And that's just the beginning, folks.

I am writing this because A) I want to be held accountable for what I've posted here in the coming months, and B) the steps will help you taste the rainbow and not just stare at it. Skittles knows their stuff.

I am one short week from completing about a quarter of my own life. Later this year when I put out my very first quarterly self report, I want it to show consistent gains in all the right sectors: happiness, productivity, number of Thin Mints consumed ... But before then I look forward to the first time someone asks me if 25 feels different, because I can finally smile and say "Oh, yes. Absolutely."

*Boyfriend reference.

Life Lesson from a Cabby: Sleep with the Ghosts

2008-12-22T02:03:00.006+05:30

This post can also be found at StrangerSage.com.

Last night was cold in the Windy City. It was 3 a.m. and I was headed home from a holiday party in the back seat of a warm cab as it swerved and zipped down slick and snowy streets. Manning the wheel was Mir, a man from Hyderabad, India who was about to repeat a mantra I have heard and tried to live by for years. The gist is this: "Quit being such a pansy". Frank Hebert puts it more eloquently in his litany against fear, but we'll keep it simple.

What prompted a lecture from the cabby to the crybaby? I asked Mir, a man with 30 years driving experience who had weathered not only the snow-slicked streets of Chicago in an 18-wheeler, but also India's lawless, helter-skelter roadways, to "slow it down, please. I'm afraid of winter driving."

"Afraid?!" asked Mir as he barely missed the late-night drunkards trying to hail him down in the middle of the street, too inebriated to notice or care that the light atop the car wasn't lit. "Never let yourself be afraid. Never! It will stay with you until you die!"

Whoa, there, Cabby, let's not get too intense here -- I'm one eggnog short of a bad morning ahead. But on he went, after I explained that I had been crashed into a few times due to people losing control in bad weather. Admittedly, it is a fear that shakes me to the core, keeps me off the roads at the first sign of sleet, and elicits backseat driver behaviour that might be equated to what you would see if the Jonas Brothers announced to their fanbase they're all gay.

"Say there is a house, and it is full of demons." (Really, Mir? Okay, going with it ...) "I go into that house, and I sleep in it. I sleep with the ghosts, because I am the one with power. I am in control, next to God -- unless I let myself be afraid."

So it's a bit conflated, but I "got" it. Something about the way he said it made me realize how ridiculous I was being, and how -- even when we think we've embraced a tenet fully -- sometimes we need to do a little philosophical maintainence.

How Not to Deal with Strangers Who Think You're Involved with Their Husband

2008-11-22T00:15:00.001+05:30

It's a Saturday night, and since the two friends I have in Houston decided to go to a frat party in Austin for the weekend (you think I'm joking, being that I'm over two years out of college, right? But I'm not. Oh no, I am not.) I am decidedly bored enough to write a blog and expose myself as the loser that I am. That's a damn long sentence right there, especially for a grammar Nazi like me! Guess I'm getting pretty wild 'n' out tonight after all.

As I've mentioned before, I don't understand why hotels still offer wake-up calls. There's the alarm clock RIGHT THERE NEXT TO THE BED. And also, cell phones. Those do the trick right good. I wouldn't make such a stink about this except that due to extreme social isolation I've found myself wanting a good bed time story, the old fashioned way, and really, would that be such a risky trade in services? Out with the "Good morning, this is your wake-up call"s and in with the "Good Night Moon" readings, I say.

BUT I digress. The real focus of this entry is much more noble, as it involves false accusations and finding humor in others' tragedy. A grown-up bedtime story, if you will.

Once I got a text message that said:
"thanks 4 ruining marriage u homewrecking [explicit]!! I hope this [explicit] comes back around u when u least expect it." *Somewhere in there was an upside-down question mark, but I'm not sure it was relevant to the message ...

My initial response has me questioning my own innocence, because rather than say "erm, ya got the wrong number" I just said "Who is this?", which elicited the following:
"So ur sleepn with that many married men, you dont know who this is? Wow you really r a [explicit]."

Awesome, right? So rather than end it right then and there by trying to clear up the issue, I went ahead and got a little offended that I was being wrongly accused and responded with "You sure assume a lot ... Like that you've got the right number, for example."

I know, I know -- my bad. But THEN I did try to clear it up and explained (still in text) that the phone number was indeed new to me, and whoever she was trying to reach was not me, etc. etc. etc. blah blah blah. She didn't want to hear it. Creepily, she told me she knew where I lived and had my email address and a picture of me with my dad. She also cited me as an "ugly ass big-nosed brunette". I immediately called the cops. I'm kidding -- I'm not a brunette anymore, so I wasn't worried.

Over the next couple of days I received multiple phone calls from a variety of unrecognizable numbers, each time asking for a Tami or something. When I told them I wasn't her, there was this awkward pause and then they'd sort of maybe chuckle or something and go "Really? This isn't Tami?" And then I would have to explain the whole no-I'm-not-Tami-and-I-didn't-sleep-with-that-married-guy story all over again. I don't think they bought it.

Drama, drama, drama. What can I say? It's all part and parcel to the life of an IT consultant.

If my personal nonmusical lullaby didn't soften your heart, surely a few minutes of live streaming Shiba Inu puppies will do the trick. Sleep well, readers.

Oh REALLY? ... Did you partake in the MIRACLE of human flight, you noncontributing zero???

2008-10-30T18:16:00.005+05:30

Conan: Do you feel that we now ... take technology for granted?
Louis CK: Well yeah, 'cause now we live in an amazing, amazing world, and it's wasted on just the crappiest generation of just spoiled idiots that don't care. This is what people are like now: They got their phone and they're like "Uggghhh! It won't ..." GIVE IT A SECOND! It's going to SPACE!

It may be in jest, but he makes a great point and gives a little insight into how many in the generations before us must feel. Do we want to be "that generation"? I don't. I find myself constantly complaining about stuff like this. Maybe it's time to consider our lives now, and all that we have, with respect to a time when you had to turn that circle with the holes in it a whole 360 degrees just to dial a zero.

On a less serious note -- Enjoy the clip below of comedian Louis CK on The Conan O'Brian Show.

Avast ye! Will the scallywags at Google soon be feedin' the fish?

2008-09-17T18:38:00.007+05:30

A post on the Freakonomics blog yesterday discussed Google's new consideration to anchor supercomputers on barges at sea to lessen taxes and harness wave power. The question posed in the article focused on the obvious: Blimey! WHAT ABOUT PIRATES?!?!

Aye, it is feared that sea-faring, hornswaggling lads-o-doubloons will heave ho and pillage what private information they can from the massive amounts of data on board the supercomputer barges.

The scene this forms in my fanstastical and childish mind looks something like Jack Sparrow-esque characters running around stabbing servers with swords and shouting things like "Yaaaarrrrrr!!! Bring 'er alongside and find ye the terabytes! Ye need t' hack it, steal the booty, sell it t' China and scuttle th' barge! Gar, whar's me bottle o'rum?"

... But then that's just me.

In case this whole thing sounds a bit proposterous to you, below is the IMB Piracy Attack map for 2008. Good luck, Google -- and be wary the jolly roger.

(Click on the map to go to the actual webpage)

My Yearbook of Me

2008-09-16T01:51:00.009+05:30

And you can have a yearbook of you, too! Sites like this are what keep me on my computer into the wee hours of the morning.

www.yearbookyourself.com

*Note: The year 1980 is not shown above because it was a bad, bad, BAD year for hair.

Houston, we have a Debbie.

2008-09-12T04:36:00.004+05:30

I'm not going to make any "Debbie Does Dallas" reference jokes here because it's so old hat and inappropriate. Also because I've already used it here. And on my Facebook status. And in my head, all the time.

What I'm getting at is that I'll be moving to Houston for the next few months to start a new project (through my job, which, yes, I still have and has been paying me for some time now to do nothing. I could write a whole book on that alone but you'd all be so disquieted by the chapter called "Today I Watched a Saved By the Bell Marathon" that I'll save you the pangs of jealousy).

The project is with one of the big wig oil brutes and will involve lots of unnecessary SUV-driving and general gas consumption so as to at least quadruple the size of my carbon footprint, because, you know, everything is bigger in Texas and that's just the way it's gotta be.

Really what I'll be doing is top secret, and of course, super cool (as super cool as SAP databases can get). Honestly, I really am excited to do this and get back into global consulting via conference calls to India. I miss that curry.

I just typed "import antigravity"

2008-09-08T11:03:00.001+05:30

As someone who was pretty brand-spankin' new to programming not too long ago, I was only *slightly* intimidated when I was placed in the mainframes training stream at my job. That sh!% is ancient.

Now that I'm self-teaching Python, my sentiments are some what in line with the flying-man's below. Enjoy!

clipped from xkcd.com

Because Wednesday Nights Should Be This Fun

2008-08-14T10:04:00.003+05:30

Aside from catching up on 2 seasons of "Heroes," I spent tonight testing my skills. Find out how many of the 100 most common English words you can come up with in 5 minutes here:

The 100 Most Common English Words

I got 47! ... which is quite possibly average for a 5th grader. Who knows.

Because We Don't Give Him the Love He Deserves

2008-07-30T21:53:00.002+05:30

Why didn't this happen when I lived there? I mean, I could hardly stand not hearing the boot-stomping, brain twiddling hot beats of Snoop Dogg(y Daaaaaaaaawwwwwg).

Snoop Dogg Brings U.S. Hip-Hop to Bollywood

I would also like to point out how great it is that Thriller and Eric Clapton's Complete Clapton were among the top-selling albums in India this month. It's about time for Snoop to make some headway ...

Get with the TIMES, New Roman!!!

2008-07-26T00:05:00.002+05:30

A super-hero (Comic Sans: "The boldest of them all") saves the day when another font (Ransom) takes hostage CurlzMT and Courier at the font conference.

For anyone who designs, edits, or just generally appreciates the vast array of fonts out there, this video will be hilarious.

See more funny videos and funny pictures at CollegeHumor.

"Well, then, close your ears!"

2008-07-11T16:14:00.006+05:30

I was jolted awake in the wee hours this morning when a lightning bolt struck somewhere extremely close by, setting off a cacophonous boom and causing a car alarm to go off outside my window. For reasons unknown, my unending internal dialogue (monologue?) drifted toward death, as it has done more often in the past year then at any other time in my life. So now before the dawn even breaks I am going to write about it.

While I was away in India this year, three people in my life passed away: An uncle, by pneumonia; an old friend, by gunshot; and a former boyfriend's mother, by cancer. Being so far away and having no control (not that anything would have been different if I had been home) was not an easy task, and admittedly it made being in an exotic, far off place a bit less thrilling.

But closure, I've found, comes in odd and usually belated forms.

I went back to MN in June to bury my uncle's ashes, and I was touched by the genuine respect and admiration held by those who came. It was a celebration of his life -- a tearful but relaxed and happy coming together of family and friends, which is why just two weeks later when I returned again, I couldn't stop thinking about the similarities of that scene with the one at hand: My grandma's 90th birthday party.

It initially seemed to be a morbid and even offhand line to draw between the two subsequent family gatherings, but the similarities gave me comfort. You have to be honest about the thoughts on your mind, and the truth is, with grandma, we're all thinking we don't know if she'll be here for her next birthday. So we celebrate and eat dessert, watch a slide show, enjoy one another, and just like we did at the internment two weeks previous, we laugh and cry and toast to a life well-lived.

This year I brought along my Flip video and once again played the reporter. I interviewed my grandma about her 90 years and I treasure the documentation I have of her voice and expressions on video. If there's something I can learn from my grandma it is this: You can take the girl out of the party, but you can't take the life of it out of her eyes.

Well, then, close your ears!

Here's a quick video of Grandma in her chair in the screenhouse up at the lake, discussing her raucous youth. Sorry the resolution is so poor. Still working on that. :)

Strike the perfect dance/life balance

2008-07-08T22:13:00.004+05:30

This video brought tears to my eyes. Something about it is just so touching; It has what I feel is the perfect balance of silliness, community and adventure that a good life requires, all summed up into a happy little jig.

Oh, and the "Demilitarized Zone, Korea" scene is totally my favorite.

Where the Hell is Matt? (2008) from Matthew Harding on Vimeo.

*Thanks for the link, Becky!

All is Quiet on the Doggy Front

2008-06-29T04:17:00.004+05:30

Today was an excellent day. Why? Because on my way home from the gym this morning I took my usual exciting route through the parking lot, and THE DOG! The ferocious, snarling, terrifying German shepherd that always acts as though it is about to eat through the wrought-iron gate and gobble my innards? That dog DIDN'T BARK AT ME TODAY. She didn't even bother to stand up, she just lied there while I meandered by offering her my usual "Hi, Puppy! Hello there, you!" Which means that I frequent the gym often enough that she doesn't think I'm going to steal her dead squirrel skeleton or whatever. Which also means that I can now officially call myself a regular-worker-outer, which certainly pleases me.

See that, body? You can ache and burn as much as you'd like, but my will power is still kicking your ass. Literally.

'Twill be Twittered

2008-05-12T00:34:00.002+05:30

I'm on Twitter! Sign up and follow me!
If you don't know what it is, check it out.

If you look on the right side of my blog page, you'll see toward the top my recent Twitter updates.

What you've all not been waiting for!

2008-05-11T23:54:00.004+05:30

Here we go again ...

I felt the need to drop off the face of the blogosphere for a few months after returning from India, not because I didn't want to update anyone on my life, but ... well, sort of because I didn't have a whole lot that I wanted to say that wasn't ONLY about what I'd been doing the past half a year. And I was lazy. Let's not discount that. But here I am again, for whatever reason (maybe it's the delicious omelet I made for breakfast that I really feel like talking about*), and I think I will finally respond to those of you who wanted to hear about THE BIG RETURN. How did it go? How was the reverse culture shock? Did I get you your very own guru?!?

It would be accurate to say that I was thrilled to be back. It would also be accurate to say that it really sucked. For the first few days my pupils were so enlarged by the excitement I felt at things like Chipotle and honest-to-gosh grocery stores that I considered wearing strong-prescription glasses so I didn't look like I was on E. But gradually, the novelty of open roads and the peace and quiet of Denver's suburbs wore off and I felt pretty lonely. Really lonely. Where are the cows? The honking? The thrill of a swerving rickshaw? Okay, now I'm just being melodramatic. I missed my friends. I missed a feeling of belonging. I hated the fact that nothing had changed while I was gone. I mean, I changed so much -- how is it that the world didn't change along with me? And so goes the plight of many-a-traveler, so I'm told.

Now it has been four months. FOUR months! The reverse culture-shock has subsided and I am now settled in Chicago. Yay Chicago! I love it here. I do miss the open skies of Colorado, though. Once you get used to that, it's hard to live under low-hanging clouds and not have sun all but a few days a year.

My next endeavors: getting cats. And a Wii. Just so I can complete the becoming-a-hermit circuit.

*My omelet included the following ingredients: Eggs. Milk. Fresh chopped tomatoes, asparagus and shallots. Brie and goat cheese. It happens to be Mother's Day, and I've been treating myself so well I'm wondering if I've actually got children I should be aware of.

India: I've Attached the Same ... Isn't It?

2008-01-25T22:05:00.000+05:30

Here it is, folks -- my attempt at a video recap of my time in India. I don't know why it's quite so pixelated but when I learn more about such things I'll work on fixing that. Until then, my apologies and enjoy!

India: I've Attached the Same ... Isn't It?

For a more introspective look at things, my friend Nate put together an interview-style documentary of our experience in India that's a whole lot better than mine.

India Voices: The Director's Cut

India: Between Iraq and a Hard Place

2007-12-13T18:17:00.000+05:30

It's been almost a month, and that seems to be about as often as I get around to updating the blog. One thing that's certainly not new -- I've been keeping busy!
First things first: Here are links to new photos! Some real keepers in here ...

Mysore: Hometown Expeditions

Back to Goa!

Taj MaHOLY COW!

This past month has seen some cranky days, as plans and promises keep falling through on the business side of things. To say the least, those of us still here have learned an exorbitant amount regarding an overseas worklife. Cultural differences and language barriers have more recently been astoundingly good at keeping a slew of things from getting done right, or with any sort of efficiency. But this is why we came here, isn't it? To learn and understand; to work through and find a way to manage business and projects on a global scale -- to flatten the world. And in the end, we'll only gain from it.

It's winter here in India, which means our beautifully sunny 80 degree days have turned to beautifully sunny but pleasantly breezy 70 degree days, and significantly cooler nights. It's surreal to think that the U.S. is right now a frenzy of Holiday shoppers, Christmas lights, festive window displays and SNOW! I miss it all like crazy. But it's also kind of interesting to witness the season without all that. We'll see if my materialism fades.

Recent news:
-Andy came to visit! He managed to cover ridiculous amounts of the country in just 3 weeks, and besides his individual ventures we both went to Goa (again, for me -- had to share the beauty of the Arabian Sea), and then on to Delhi and Agra to see the Taj Mahal. And what a wonder it is. It's quite cool, and the smog is so thick it makes the Taj look like a castle set amidst a pristine misty fog, just like in a fairytale. But once you arrive in Agra, upon breathing you come to understand that no, it's not so magical after all, and instead of excited tingles, it causes a slight burning sensation in the eyes.

But India is India, and it will always have a flair like none other. It is beautiful and ugly. It's dirty and ... dirty. But mostly it is so very colorful, in such amazing ways that couldn't be replicated in any other place but right here, with this culture and congestion and noise and constant, constant movement. Wow, check out this sentiment! Might it have something to do with the fact that I have about 10 days left in the country? Mayhaps, mayhaps. But I won't be home until January 6th or 7th, due to an upcoming 12-day hurrah in THAILAND!

-A Merry Thai Christmas: On December 21st I'll be heading to Thailand for several days of sun and exploring a whole new country. Christmas Eve, which just so happens to be a full moon, will be spent on Ko Samui at the famed Full Moon party on the beach, followed by Christmas day on ... the same beach. Then it's off to a couple different national parks (one of which is underwater!) and Phuket -- one of Thailand's most toured spots and also the island that took a mighty blow from the tsunami in 2004. We'll end up in Bangkok for New Years eve. Not bad. Then it's back to Bangalore to grab my stuff, say goodbye to India, and hop on a jet plane to the U.S. of A.

Rice to the challenge

2007-11-14T07:47:00.001+05:30

This is legit, folks. Every time you get a vocab word right, 10 grains of rice are donated to help end hunger. It's free, yes. Have fun!

http://www.freerice.com/index.php

Thanks for passing this on, Lizzie!

Wish you were here

2007-11-12T16:52:00.000+05:30

Contrary to what you may have heard, I am still present on the earth. No, really. I'm here. The reason for my not updating the 'ol blog in, oh, just over 2 months? India is big. Really, it's very large, and when you're trying to learn software programming AND tour a very large country in the short span of six months, certain things are priority ... like actually seeing the country. And not getting fired. This can be tricky.

But yes, here I am again. Since I last wrote, I've been on some sort of excursion nearly every weekend, many of them beach-centric. It's been delightful, and that's quite an understatement. If you're really interested in just what these trips entail, the best way to find out about them is to look at the pictures I've posted.

But that point brings me to another, actually. For a while here things were crazy. By that I mean I've never been so horribly bogged down with concept-learning. Like, EVER. I've since moved on to a less intensive training that doesn't lead to me wanting to rip out my eyeballs, but up until a couple of weeks ago, life was rough. Some friends and I have compared this experience to switching back and forth between finals week and spring break ... EVERY WEEKEND. For months. Just think of that. That means that in the span of one month, we have studied, crammed, stressed, and partied like rock stars four or five times as much as most college students do in one semester. And it happens several months in a row. Okay, that might be a slight exaggeration. But that's honestly what it felt like.

On top of that, I've been dealing with some losses back home. It's been interesting dealing with tragedy from so far away. A big part of me realizes that I actually haven't dealt with it much at all, that it might resurface as part of the wave of reverse culture-shock I'll get once I'm not on a 12-hour time difference. But time will tell, right?

To keep things short (I've already neglected to keep them sweet), here are links to photo albums from the past 2 months. They really do say more than I have the energy to type here.

(I am no longer posting albums to Picasa. Facebook has won out. :) But anyone can view these, Facebook member or not!)

Indian Octoberfest ... You do the math

Octoberness in India

Fashion Shows and Festivals

"I didn't know it would do that"

Diwali in India

Enjoy, everyone! As always, I would love to hear from you guys! Thanks to those who keep me posted and let me know when the Rockies get swept in the World Series. ;)

It's been a long time gone

2007-09-06T13:41:00.001+05:30

Amazing things keep happening over here on the other side of the world, and I can't help thinking that it has something to do with the fact that ... well ... it's the other side of the world.

The updates I have to share are far from slim, which, ironically, is why there haven't been any updates. It is a busy, busy time.

What I do have to say up front is this: culture shock is no myth. It's actually pretty fascinating. I've gone through some interesting phases in my feelings toward India and this experience as a whole. It has ranged from my initial excitement and thrill with every new scene, all the dirty way to some nasty thoughts, generalizations, and downright bitterness at the fact that "oh my gosh, this country is not catering to ME. Why would they do that?!" Sad, isn't it? A little disappointing that I would actually feel so selfish. But somehow, by some miraculous act of God, within the past few days, that has all changed into a feeling that is so much better because it is, for lack of a better word -- ACTUAL. And now I love India. For being what it is, for having all these incredible differences, and yet being so similar to every other culture at its very core.

I think I have settled into what I would call an acceptance phase. I don't mean that in a negative way at all. Every time I leave campus I see something totally new that I would never, ever see back home. And that is exciting, whether it's a woman designing a carpet of flower petals into an intricate design on the floor, or it's a hole in the floor with a cockroach trying to fly out at me... and I am somehow supposed to pee in it.

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Class has not been a piece of cake for me, and this is good. I like a challenge. I have failed 2 tests. I have sat for hours on end staring at a function and not getting why the hell its existence is necessary. But for each of those failed tests, and every minute I've spent saying "F--- this!" I have only come to understand more than I did before about computer science. But I am not going to lie. There have been moments in which I have ventured into that realm of "maybe I just can't do this." But only moments. And fleeting ones.

On a totally unrelated subject, I recently had another such fleeting moment in which I had a strong desire to stop eating meat. That desire frightened me so much that I actually ordered a side of bacon and sausage at my next meal. On top of a club sandwich that came with chicken, egg, and ham. But then it came back, that desire -- and I "accepted" it, if you will. And now I am a veggie. This may not last, but it's been a few days so far and I kind of like the new thought process it involves. India is the easiest place in the world to go veg, I think, so it hasn't been a big struggle. I'll let you know when I start protesting leather and grow dreads.

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A couple weeks ago, the chief mentor and founder of Infosys, NRN, came to speak on campus. He also met with just us from the U.S., which is incredible. This guy is really cool - he's the Bill Gates of India, and is so highly respected, that to talk with him like he's someone from HR was really kind of incredible when I think about it. Then last week there was a writer from the New York Times here. He interviewed a few from our group and took pictures during our class session, so I'll post the story once it's out.

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Many a photo has been taken in recent weeks. I'll let the captions tell the stories, but to sum it up:

-A group of 11 of us spent our 3-day weekend at a marble beach house on the east coast of southern India in a town called Mahabalipuram. This town was struck hard by the 2004 tsunami but has recovered marvelously. We saw temples, cows, temples, beaches, cows, etc... It was an awesome time.
http://picasaweb.google.com/debbie.thiegs/Mahabalipuram

-Last weekend some of us went on a day trip to check out two nearby waterfalls. I took a good tumble and messed up my knee and wrist, but I also got to sit in a giant woven basket while a guy rowed us over to the falls. It's neat, sitting in baskets is. Oh. We also visited a temple.
http://picasaweb.google.com/debbie.thiegs/TheKegTheFalls9207903PM

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In other upcoming news:
I'm going to an Indian wedding! Last weekend I was in town at the tailor's shop getting some pants and a shirt made (from scratch -- this is the way to do it, I'm telling you). While waiting for the boys to finish up, myself and my friends Sarah and Ruth sauntered into a jewelery shop where we met Bhajana - our new best friend. After chatting for a while, Bhajana informed us that she was getting married on September 14th to an Indian guy from Houston. Then she invited us, just like that. In India, this type of spontaneous invitation is not uncommon, and often it is more a courtesy than an ACTUAL invite. But Bhajana took down our e-mails, our mailing address, and within one day we got a detailed invite to the wedding, complete with contacts and a detailed description of the culture of weddings in her family. Two days later we got official invites in the mail. It has silver lining. :)

This weekend I'm going white water rafting. And visiting a temple. How did I ever not love it here?

"Why is this in my FACE?!"

2007-09-06T13:31:00.000+05:30

Here is an awesome video montage created by one of the guys in our group. This should give you an idea of some of the everyday scenes/ experiences one gets living in India. About 1/4 of my face is in it -- can you catch where?

Enjoy!

Holy Cow, he knows his place

2007-09-06T13:28:00.000+05:30

Some video of my friend Sarah and me "encouraging" two guys while they try to back out of a parking space being blocked by nothing other than a holy cow.

"It's actually really good if you can get past the fact they made it with ketchup."

2007-08-16T22:42:00.000+05:30

... The title was a quote from James, in reference to the "Mexican salsa" served along with our "Mexican" nachos, quesadilla, chimichanga and burrito. All of them were made of the exact same thing: Chicken, some creamy white sauce with peas and corn in it, "sour cream" that was just mayo with some spices, and a tortilla. The burrito and chimichanga came smothered in authentic American bbq sauce. Oddly tasty. See photo.

What can I say? There are good days, and there are not so good days. Today was one of the latter kind. Six hours of studying (on Indian Independence Day -- our day off, mind you), and several work days that went well into the night were not enough to earn me a passing grade on my programming fundamentals test this morning. I am not alone, but among the vast majority of our class who failed this test. The Debbie Downer in me keeps saying stupid things like "well, maybe you're not cut out for this. Maybe you just didn't try very hard." But then when I'm being real about it I get all fired up because I'm no dummy, and I've been working my ass off all this time and something about this teaching style has got to change. It's one thing to listen to someone talk at you with little to no practice with the concepts or interaction for 3.5 hours every once in a while, but it is another to do this routine day after day. Every concept I'm learning is brand new to me, and before I've had the chance to absorb it, we're on to the next concept, which only builds upon the previous. And then it just keeps building and building. To say the least, I am frustrated. Most, if not all of us are.

But to be less of a Debbie Downer, here are some of the highlights from the past several days:

Mmmm. Schwarmmmmmmmas. There's a great little joint in Mysore called "Lemon Tree." They're a hole-in-the-wall restaurant that serves chicken and schwarmas, which are basically chicken gyros on small pita-type bread. AMAZING. And at something that converts to about 35 cents for each one, that's a tasty cheap meal.

"It's a bird! It's a plane! It's SUPER FIRE-ALARM MAN!!!"
While sitting in class today, we were in the midst of a heated debated with HR about a new 10p.m. curfew policy (weekends included), when we heard an odd sort of screechy-scream of sorts outside the door. This went on for several minutes before we were told that this was, in fact, a fire alarm, and that we all had to evacuate the building promptly. Now think back to high school when everyone is just kind of lazily gliding to the door in a "here we go again" manner. This was the same kind of thing, but with one major difference: There are no alarms installed on the walls. No clanging, piercing hammer-on-bell objects. And yet, there was this noise. Where was this noise coming from? As we headed for the steps, we heard the alarm getting louder. And then, THEN, from around the corner, in a startlingly dedicated fashion, came a guard, running. Not only was he running, but he was blowing a whistle. Oh, AND he was turning the crank on a giant horn attached to his belly, much like a percussionist in a marching band carries their drum. And at this sight, much of the built-up tension from a stressful day melted (temporarily) away.

"Soccer game ... Cricket game ... Soccer game ... Cricket game ..."
Yesterday during a bit of free time, I went down to the soccer/cricket field to watch a match between Americans and Indians. When I got there, I thought something seemed a little amiss. That's when my friends and I realized that there was a cricket game going on in the middle of the soccer game. Right there. Cricket paddles, balls and all. It turns out there was a group of guys playing cricket who had been there all day, and when their game ended, they were not so willing to give up the field for an hour-long soccer game. The field is not reservable. So the soccer boys, feeling peeved that these guys wouldn't share the field for one hour when they had already been there all day, proceeded to play the game right through the cricket game. I've never seen anything like it. It was hilarious.

It may cause cancer
Sarah brought microwave popcorn to India. We have no microwaves in our rooms, and a cheap one here is over $100. So today, Sarah wanted some of her popcorn, and I accompanied her to the Floating Restaurant on campus, where we knew they had a microwave. We presented two bags of microwave popcorn to Unni, the sweetest, most kindly person you'll ever meet.
"Okay, Unni. Here, you just take off the plastic and you unfold it, and just put it in the microwave for 3 minutes, okay?"
"Okay, yeah! Sure, of course!"
"Okay, so just 3 minutes, just like this."
"Yeah, okay!"
... 3 minutes go by. And 4. And 5. And maybe also 6 or 7. We decide to check out the popcorn situation. Calling for Unni, we declare that "it's okay, Unni -- we don't really need it. It's no big deal if it burned. We burn popcorn all the time!" And to our surprise, Unni comes over and tells us that it's not ready yet. Not ready? After a good 7 minutes in a microwave? "But it should be good in about 3 minutes." Unni: "Well, it isn't done. I don't know why." And Unni convinces us to stick around for 3 more minutes. Three minutes pass and sure enough, out comes Unni carrying a giant plastic fruit bowl with a good pile of uncooked, buttered popcorn seeds and about 1.5 cups of popped popcorn. Out of the bag. There was a big bubble in the plastic bowl and it was scalding from being in the microwave for so long. It was so cute.
"Unni," I said, "you didn't have to scrape it out of the bag. You can just put the bag in the microwave..."
"Oh, yeah, sure! Sure! Yeah!"
It gave us a good giggle. And the popcorn we did get out of the deal was delicious.

I didn't look awkward at all.

2007-08-12T13:25:00.000+05:30

A plain 'ol walk down one of the main shopping streets in town.

Goat Crossing

2007-08-12T13:21:00.000+05:30

Our taxi stops to wait for a herd of goats to cross the street. No biggie.

I "clicked" some more pictures

2007-08-10T22:34:00.000+05:30

That's what they say here. "If you need to get your picture clicked, the photo clicker will be here tomorrow at noon."

I think it's cute.

Anyways ... Photo update!

Week deux in India

Mysore gets lit

And the winner of the Annual Block Christmas Light Display goes to...

2007-08-10T22:28:00.000+05:30

Mysore Palace on a Sunday night. Feel the magic.

"Mysore -- Put down your drinks and DANCE!!!"

2007-08-10T22:22:00.000+05:30

A clip of what it means to party on the Infosys campus. This was on a Thursday night.

Tom Falls Asleep

2007-08-10T22:17:00.000+05:30

Tom, one of the U.S. trainees at Infosys, asleep on the bus. I think he hurt himself.

NOTE: Make sure your volume isn't all the way up when you play this. There are some really weird clicky noises in the beginning ...

And I'm all "Look at his 01101101 01101111 01110101 01110011 01110100 01100001 01100011 01101000 01100101! It's HUGE!"

2007-08-05T01:17:00.000+05:30

Moustache. 01101101 01101111 01110101 01110011 01110100 01100001 01100011 01101000 01100101 is moustache.

Yesterday we started what I consider to be our "real" training here on campus. I, the journalism major, finally learned binary. And octal. AND hexadecimal. Hello, world!

I loved it. As my new friend and co-worker Melissa put it, "it was fun in a sick, sudoku sort of way." I couldn't put it better myself. And already I'm making awful "I speak binary" jokes that make me sound horrifically and completely, stereotypically and bonafide-ily(?), nerdified.

I'm sure this phase will pass. Maybe. :) But what's important is that I'm getting this stuff and liking it and feel good about it, for now. To me, it's confirmation that it's never too late to learn something new, and actually become good at it.

As a reward (okay, I would have done this anyway) some of us are going to the spa tomorrow, where we will be pampered for hours on end at just a fraction of the U.S. cost. Oh, India. The perks are endless.

Anyone who has any programming experience is right now thinking "Oh, Lord. This girl is going to be managing new software implementations for companies I use?" The answer is yes. She is. Just give me some time.

What the ...??? BAM!

2007-08-05T00:15:00.000+05:30

Remember when I said I had a story to share about standing out in India? The time has come to share it. Mainly because I had one too many flaming shots last night and moving from my bed right now sounds nothing short of death-like.

Last weekend I ventured to Bangalore, India's high-tech hub and the location in which your call gets routed when you're trying to figure out why the heck your operating system just stopped working. They may say their name is George or Fred or Nancy, but if you detect a hint of an Indian accent, it's more likely their name is something unpronounceable to you, the confused American consumer of all that are goods.

So I went to Bangalore with 3 other girls, 2 of us blond, 3 of us well over the average Indian women's height, and all of us white. Whenever we're in the car, we are stared at so blatantly by other people in surrounding cars that staring back just seems pointless. Buses of men craned their necks to look at us. A father excitedly points us out to his family. Others just stare and shake their heads, as though we've each got 5 ourselves. But the dude who wins the prize for "Most Dedicated Stare" is the one who was SO distracted by our presence that he got hit by a rickshaw. An auto-rickshaw. He wasn't hurt or anything, just more startled and confused, I think. Now before you go and think I'm making nothing out of a huge deal, let me just say this: It's not a huge deal. Here's why:
Traffic is an absolute mess in Bangalore, and when I say mess I don't mean that I-25 is backed up past 120th, no. I mean mess as in the cow in the road just caused us to swerve, which in turn caused the family of 4 on the motorcycle next to us (with an infant on the handlebars) to nearly collide with the oncoming traffic on either side of us, cutting within inches of the public transit bus that's holding at LEAST double its capacity, with about 6 men literally hanging outside the door of the bus with one foot on the step and a hand fiercely gripping the metal railing. Horns are honking. Rain is pouring. Streets are flooded. This is all very normal.

So when you put it into that context, it all seems a bit more comical than it does horrifying. I also want to make the point that the staring thing, it's not as offensive as I'm making it out to be. It's not considered rude here, and now that I'm used to it I'm only bothered by situations in which the 2 guys at the neighboring table speak little more than a few words to each other, because the rest of their entire 1.5 hour meal they've got their heads turned toward us, obviously hearing our every discussion and not at all concerned that this might be uncomfortable, or at the very least, super awkward. Honestly, though, if seeing foreigners were such a rarity to me, I would be curious, too.

A Day in the Life

2007-08-01T21:44:00.000+05:30

I am well into week 2 in India, and I still can't complain ... much. There are many frustrations we've all felt in this adjustment phase -- getting used to a very different style of functioning, really. I can't say I haven't been disappointed by some of the reactive behavior I've seen in our U.S. batch to all this change. When you get a group of people into a situation that's slightly outside their comfort zone, like, say, a third world country ... you learn that everyone has different coping skills (or lack thereof). But our experience in India is anything but ordinary. Here is a quick sample of what I encounter and do in a given day here in the confines of one of India's most desired and respected workplaces:

I wake up in my hostel, the breeze blowing open my gold-flecked orange-y curtains, and the birds outside are making classically tropical chirping noises. I open those curtains and directly outside my window are palm trees and flowered plants. My room is my own, with a kickin' AC, cable t.v., a fast internet connection and 2 pink walls. Every morning I take one of the best showers imaginable in a bathroom coated in large, wine-colored tiles. Then I turn on the electric kettle and make hot chocolate, or maybe some amazing Indian tea with cream and sugar - stocked daily by housekeeping.

Speaking of housekeeping: Unless I hang the "Privacy Please" sign on the doorknob, I will come back to a room that has been swept, garbages emptied, bottled water refreshed, bed made, clothes folded, possessions put into order, toiletries placed on the counter in an army-straight line, in order of height. Not that I EVER fail to make the bed on my own ... In my defense, I tried it a few times. They still re-did it. Going back to the orderliness of all my belongings -- this is no exaggeration. The maid is OCD, that's all there is to it. Always, my things are perfectly aligned by height. Even if it doesn't make sense. I always organize my toiletries by category: hair stuff, face stuff, teeth stuff. You get the idea. But no matter how I rearrange it to fit my style, I come back to it all against the wall on the counter, tallest to shortest, intermixed groupings of products, but aesthetically pleasing, nonetheless. One of the girls in our batch had a bag of Starbursts dumped out on her coffee table, and returned to find them stacked evenly, by color and height, in a sort of cascading rainbow of ordered candy. Besides these oddities, which I actually love, the housekeepers are so kind. What I didn't initially feel comfortable with is that they will not turn their back on you, out of respect. I.e. they will not walk out of a room you are in as you normally would, walking straight through the door. Instead they turn around and face you while they back out, always smiling.

After a day of classes and modules in programming, I'll do whatever I want. My options are plenty. We've got a well-kept gym, yoga and aerobics classes every day, a pool, climbing wall, badminton, squash, tennis, basketball and volleyball courts, cricket/soccer/football field, and obstacle course, snooker (billiards), ping pong, a bowling alley, a movie theater, shops, bikes, snacks, a music room, bookstore, salon & spa ... and all of it fancy fresh, as this place was built in 2003. Campus is laden with fascinating building architecture, fountains, landscaping, and people. If there's one thing I could do more of, it's branch out and meet some of the locals. This is surprisingly hard to do, since most of us, especially the girls, get stared at like we're walking, talking aliens. But it's not so bad that I've got any excuse not to try.

To expound on that last point, I've got a story to share about just how much we stand out here. But that will come later. Back to the day.

Every day it rains. It usually pours, and that makes sense because it's monsoon season through November. But I just love it! Umbrellas are aplenty in every building, branded, as is everything else, with the Infosys name. The rain doesn't stop anyone from going out. Outdoor games continue without pause, and the indoor shops get just a bit more crowded. There are about 6,000 of us trainees on campus at any given time (about 90 Americans).

For dinner (and lunch and breakfast, for that matter), I can head to one of three food courts with options like Dominoes and Cafe Coffee Day (like Starbucks) and Indian food buffets. I hear we're getting a Subway soon. Or I can indulge a whopping $2-$3 and eat at The Floating Restaurant, which is a gazebo-style restaurant that, you guessed it, "floats" in a circular moat housing beautiful koi fish. Did you know they sleep at night? They just rest on the floor of their territory - it's really cute. Tonight the chefs, as per some American's request, prepared roasted chicken and beef tenderloin. That's right. BEEF. In India. And this was amazing beef, too; not tough or nasty like you might assume. The point is, we're catered to like crazy. It gets to be too much, but you can't keep someone from being hospitable.

Dinner is usually later, so afterwards I'm happy to spend some me-time back in my hostel. It gets dark early here, and the crickets are calming. I've recently taken to reading atop one of the huge marble pillars flanking our hostels, overlooking the courtyard. Often I just fall into the flow of the day, but sometimes I take special notice of the impeccably-kept green grass, swept by hand daily of any fallen leaves, or the amount of care put into making my room a welcoming home. And it's then that I realize that this place is amazing. This opportunity so unique. And I want to learn from it so much - which I know I will. I already have. But to think that there are 6 more months, maybe more ... And then there's the gaping rift between this oasis and the reality of India. You couldn't find a wider gap between the haves and the have-nots. As the days pass, I plan to get a better understanding of the latter. It may come as a surprise, but this posh living gets old real fast. Don't get me wrong - I'm grateful to have it. But there's much more life beyond this bubble.

The Three Acre Tree

2007-08-01T21:39:00.000+05:30

A quick video I took of a giant Banyan tree we visited in a rural area outside of Bangalore. This one tree's branches span over 3 acres! It looks like several trees, but it's just the one.

I like a good chai every morning

2007-07-29T20:51:00.000+05:30

Photos of week 1 in India are up!

http://picasaweb.google.com/debbie.thiegs/FirstWeekInIndia

Enjoy!

It's almost like I'm not in the U.S. anymore ...

2007-07-23T19:12:00.000+05:30

Hi everyone!

Sorry it's taken me so long to write! It's been go go go since I got here at 5 am Saturday morning. But I am safe and well and loving it here!

The sequence of flights and buses was pretty rough. We boarded the plane about 45 minutes late in D.C., then sat on the runway for 2, count 'em, 2 hours before taking off. Seven hours later we landed in Frankfurt and I couldn't even find a pretzel to buy! Instead I ended up with some crappy fizzy stuff that cost me several Euro. Anyways... On the plane to Frankfurt I was surrounded by 50 teenagers who were all on a foreign exchange student scholarship. They were leaving their homes for 1 year and were on their way to be picked up by their host families in Germany, so you can imagine what they were like! We had about an hour before the flight to India, then the plane ride itself was nearly 9 hours. We got to India at midnight, went through customs and got our bags, hopped on buses and waited some more, then we drove the 2.5 hours to campus and were greeted with one of the most beautiful "resorts" I've ever seen! Since then we've been taking care of a lot of business, and yesterday we left campus to tour Mysore city.

I'll write about this more in my blog, but to sum up some of the more interesting bits:
-We had to walk barefoot through the palace, which is awkward, because basically it's like them making you take off your shoes and socks to tour the white house. Not only that, but the locals walk barefoot anyways, and through some pretty nasty stuff. I thoroughly washed my feet upon our return, and I have yet to venture back into those shoes.
-The poverty is pretty intense. There are hundreds of beggars missing a limb or two reaching out for you to give them money, and children and sometimes men will tag alongside you for up to about a quarter mile just trying to get you to buy a pencil or cheap gadget, or just begging for money. It sounds like it would be a difficult ordeal, but for some reason, at least so far, it hasn't been for me. I have not felt afraid or unsafe at all. Just dirty from the filth. Campus, however, is immaculate.
-The stories of cows everywhere are true. They're just like people in the street, and they walk where they may. They also make messes everywhere. There are also a lot of random horses hangin' out. And monkeys. Lots of monkeys! The babies are adorable and myself and a couple friends have discussed harboring one in our hostels, but maybe that will happen some other day.
-I have seen no elephants, although some guys tried to get us to pay them to ride one. It was out of sight, though.
-A young teenage boy with 2 monkeys on his shoulders (chained to him) pulled a yellow python out of a basket he was carrying. I don't think he was a charmer, he just wanted us to pay him to take his picture.
-Driving here is hilarious. There are sometimes lines on the roads, but they are rarely adhered to. At one point I noticed that cars coming in the opposite direction were passing us on both sides. The rules, as we were told today, are basic: 1)Always yield to the larger vehicle, and 2)The smaller vehicle has the right of way. Just try abiding by that.

I've got much more to say, but I think it will have to wait. Jet lag is still lingering and I need to get to sleep! Here are some pics of the trip so far!

The pool on campus. Beat that.

This is where I live. To clarify, this is on the campus on which I live. It's not Disney-related, but it does house our movie theater.

Also on campus, this glass building built to look like Japanese origami. Obviously.

Sarah and a cow in the street.

The best thing since sliced bread is the best thing FOR sliced bread.

2007-06-18T23:22:00.001+05:30

I like how it's aptly deemed "stick type."

clipped from gadgetholic.blogspot.com

When Good Things Happen to Good People

2007-04-21T03:56:00.000+05:30

Wow, it's been a while. I have so many pointless, random, and annoying things to say; I hardly know where to begin. Prepare yourself, this one might be a doozy. For organizational purposes, I have written a tabloid-style headline to go with each bit of nothing.

We'll kick this one off with shock value.
NUMBER OF EARLY MARRIAGES SHOCKS, FRIGHTENS GIRL
I'm no statistical analyst, but I did happen to go through my Facebook friend list counting how many of my friends are either engaged or married. You wanna know how many? Sure you do. 54. Did your jaw drop, too? 54!!!!! I am 23. If I were, you know, 30, that might seem more accurate. And it doesn't even include friends of mine who aren't on Facebook. I have nothing against getting married in your early 20s, if you're really ready for it -- and whether or not you're ready for it is a whole different issue than this. But what I'm getting at here, I guess, is that it doesn't seem all that long ago when us girls were like "OMG, let's ALL call Jimmy TOGETHER, because we all openly have a crush on the same guy and that's cool," and boys were like, "Hey, I'm gonna snap your bra strap because I don't understand this warm feeling creeping all over me."

Now, apparently, we have moved way past that. I hope. But sometimes it's not all that much better. The communal crushing on one boy at this age certainly does not result in a giddy group phone call, but rather backstabbing and mayhaps some hair pulling. And snap my bra? You might just get slapped.

Let's move on.

GHOST OF PETER PAN PAST REAPPEARS; FRIGHTENS GIRL
You may recall my entry about my brush with death via Peter Pan. I'll recap: I had not one, but two half eaten jars of the recalled, contaminated batch in my possession. I did not die, or even get sick, but I'm convinced that had I opened the THIRD one I found in the back of the cupboard recently, I would have bit the dust. Third time's a charm! Luckily, after I hid it in Ben's bed, he made sure to Sharpie the thing to death with warnings such as "(poison)", "120% more death", and, of course, a skull and cross-bones.

MUSIC BLASTS FROM BLOWN SPEAKERS IN DILAPIDATED 1995 TAURUS ONCE AGAIN
To know the long, depressing adolescence of my now 13-year-old car, Treasure, click here. I'm happy to announce that this is not a depressing story. My Treasure is alive again! After his CD player's faceplate was stolen last year, I found another exactly like it on E-Bay. I snapped it into place, only to find the volume didn't work. Correction: The volume-UP did not work. I could, however, turn it down. This, for those of you who are missing a few puzzle pieces, presents a problem, because when the volume can only go down, and you accidentally turn it down because someone calls you on your cellular telephone, you can never, ever turn it up again. That volume is lost forever.
4 months later...
After a long winter with no music in my car, I decided to stop denying that I'd yet again been screwed out of musical accompaniment to my daily cruisings. I went crawling back to E-Bay, Visa in hand. There it was, the JVC K-S260 (or something) CD player faceplate. I paid for it a third time and crossed my fingers that this one would work. Thank the Lord it did, or E-Bay may have witnessed its most outraged customer review yet. So now Treasure has music again. Life is much, much easier. The only thing I wish I could stop thinking about is the great possibility that I just gave $40 to the same prick who stole the faceplate to make a quick buck in the first place.

INSPIRATIONAL PANELS INSPIRE GIRL TO BE INSPIRED MORE OFTEN
Let's get the serious stuff out of the way. As of late I've felt really inspired (although not inspired in a way that motivates me to clean up all my crap around the apartment -- sorry, Ben! But I'm doing that this weekend, promise). What's been inspiring, you ask? Well, I recently wrote about GESET, which was very cool. Also happening that week, all week long, was the Conference on World Affairs (CWA), which up until I graduated I liked to refer to as "Conference on Ditch Whatever Classes I Don't Have to go to and Instead Attend Panels Because I'm a Huge Nerd and I Love It." I even take notes sometimes. Why would I love going to this type of grown-up crap? Because the other grown-up panelists are usually either just the type of grown-up I someday want to be, or they are the complete opposite. That makes for great discussion. Here are the panels I attended this year, which were much fewer than normal because part of that growing up process involves not ditching work:
-Mentoring
-Elevator to Space
-Entrepreneurship: No Guts, No Glory
-Entertainment Makes the World Go 'Round
-Female Entrepreneurs: You Go, Girls!
-China and India: Playing by Their Own Rules
-Infosnacking and Infobinging: A Guide to Being Well-Informed

Beyond The CWA and GESET, last week I found myself standing right next to none other than Kathy Sierra, who has recently splashed the blogosphere and national news mediums with her experience with blog harassment and victimization. A couple nights ago I saw Kofi Annan speak, and last weekend I hung out with the Unsinkable Molly Brown's great-granddaughter because she was staying at Andy's mom's house. Basically, I notice that I feel much more positive and full of potential when I'm surrounded by these opportunities and people. The question is, how do I maintain it once its gone? Or, how do we continually find and take these opportunities?

p.s. Alec Baldwin - what a jerk.

Jump, squishy man! Just JUMP!

2007-04-14T08:21:00.000+05:30

Try, just TRY to jump this squishy green man across the keyboard. It is way addicting! I got to level 28 (0f 52) before throwing in the towel ... for now.
http://www.jellyjumper.com/lang/en/

The goal is to get the back.

2007-04-13T20:24:00.000+05:30

What do you do when over 800 middle school girls condensed into one giant room are screaming at the top of their lungs and JUST WON'T STOP?

Join in, of course.

I attended GESET this Tuesday. "Girls Exploring Science, Engineering and Technology," a one-day, once-a-year event at the Denver Convention Center that gathers hundreds of gossipy, hyper young teenagers and attempts to pique their interest in, you guessed it, "science, engineering and technology." Or, as many like to call it --- "boy's stuff."

The girls got to attend workshops that ranged from the actual dissection of a sheep's heart to virtual dissection of a former death-row inmate cadaver. There were workshops in which they programmed their own video game and then got to take it home to play, workshops that introduced them to architecture, electrical circuitry, astronomy (complete with Starlab experience!)... the list goes on. Each workshop I snuck a peak at (and I did so to several), was awesome. The girls were enraptured. The workshop leaders were excited and passionate. This is just the kind of encouragement girls need to pursue something in which they don't always feel, for whatever reason, qualified or included.

The day kicked off with, of course, a greeting from the bigwigs sponsoring the event and a couple others. Three people spoke, each with different approaches to maintaining the attention of the girl-mob at the tables in front of them. And I, standing in the back, had the interesting opportunity to see what worked ... and what did not. I'm going to briefly go over them here, because for any of you public speakers out there who didn't already know, the goal of a good speech is to get the back -- those of us who are constantly bombarded with distractions: opening and closing doors, workers running back and forth, audience members coming for refills on water. They all make it difficult to pay close attention to what you're saying. But if what you're saying is something that draws me, all those annoyances will be zoned out, because I'll be watching you. This situation is ideal, because who are we kidding here? 800 adolescents is the ultimate test in public speaking.

1)Speaker number one chose a sad route. Her words, although I'm sure she was obligated to do this, focused on thanking the sponsors, and then relating them to "doing great things for girls like you," blah blah blah. The girls in the back: didn't hear a pinch of it, not because they couldn't hear, but because they found nothing worth hearing.

2)Speaker number two was also disappointing. She was a freshman in college, no doubt chosen to speak because of some affiliation with the GESET planning commity. She announced that in the 8 months she's been in college, she's changed her major 9 times. Really? Because that seems ridiculous and highly unlikely. But the girls in the audience probably wouldn't realize that. Either way, why this girl, over, say, any one of the people giving the workshop, or even just any girl who was actually dedicated to a field in the sciences or technology, would have been a better person to stick up there. The girls in the back: unimpressed and inattentive.

3)Speaker number three. Ahh, yes. This woman has worked with teenagers. The first thing she did was have everyone stand up, just for the sake of letting them know that this was different -- she was different. It was lame, but it worked. After that little exercise she asked how the girls were doing. We've all witnessed this before. The enthused speaker tries to get everyone all pumped up. "Hey! How's everyone doing here today? Are you ready to have fun?? ... I said, 'ARE YOU READY TO HAVE FUN TODAY!?!?!" Crowd goes wild. Works every time.
Next she gave the "we need you" spiel. Not the spiel that just points and yells, but the kind that makes a girl really understand it. Tech industries, sciences -- they DO need girls, and girls need to know it. As my boss always says, "We'll never know what we're missing without more women participating in information technology. We can't measure absence."
Speaker number three then asked a series of questions:
"Who here wants to someday work at a job that helps people figure out their biggest problems?"
"Who here wants to someday work at a job that handles something that affects everyone in the world?"
"Who here wants to someday work at a job that pays really, really well?"

Well, gosh, this lady wins. What middle schooler isn't going to raise their hands to any one of those? And saving the 'who wants to be a money-bags' one for last was perfect on her part.
Needless to say, the girls in the back: Went for it. Completely. Hands clapping, hootin' and hollerin', ready to jump into a day full of learning -- all because someone pitched it in all the right ways.

"The only way to build a skill -- whether it's academic, athletic, or social -- is by practice and repetition. Similarly, our perceptions get reinforced by the repetition of the role models before us. If girls don't see ‘people like me’ in science, math, and technology, they're going to get the message that they don't belong."

-Fred Gluck, former software developer and manager at Bell Labs

Secret Circus - Go while you can.

2007-04-06T20:03:00.000+05:30

Performing for the last time in Boulder tonight -- Secret Circus!
Reasons you should go:

1. It's free
2. Features Dave Burdick, local 23-year-old comedian who is packing up and moving to New York to pursue the dream full-time. He was the cover feature in the Boulder Weekly this week, and I've seen him at other Secret Circus shows. Funny, funny guy, although awkward at times ... :)
3. I'll be there (and I miss you. Hug.)

When: Friday, April 6th, 8:00pm
Where: University of Colorado, Boulder -- Old Main
How: By bike, bus, car or ultralite. You could walk, too.
Perks: Free juice and cookies at intermission. Good cookies. Capri Sun. Totally worth the free-ness. Also, it's a funny, inappropriate, and more importantly, free show.

I feel more hate mail coming on ...

2007-04-06T01:43:00.001+05:30

*** After several messages referencing my ill-knowledge on the subject of "Emo," I would like to clarify that, after listening to you and doing a bit of research, I've come to understand that the term "Emo" isn't what I was going for here. So, if you will, kindly replace in your mind every "emo" in this entry with the word "scene." Gracias.

I've tried so hard to refrain from writing this post. In fact, I've debated it in my head: "Gosh, I don't want to hurt their feelings. They seem so fragile, after all..." But today I saw yet another forlorn-looking boy, and I thought maybe if someone brought him a glimmer of hope, he just might make it out okay. So, here goes...

Dear Emo kid,

Hey, what's up? (Do you even say that anymore? Or is it more something along the lines of "What's down, dude? How's your sunken soul?"). I'm writing in regards to your lifestyle choice, which, contrary to what you may think is your lot in life -- is most definitely a choice. And a strange, sad one. I wouldn't write, except I think that just about everyone who isn't in your generation is wondering the same thing I am: Why?

When I first heard the term "Emo," I was curious. What is this - some Elmo off-shoot? Are the kids dressing up as Sesame Street characters nowadays? No, certainly not, no. But what you are dressing up as is that tired, worn black sock shoved to the back of the drawer -- the one that never has the pleasure of being placed on happy, dancing feet because its partner fell behind the dryer, forever lost in a dark, linty place where old socks go to die.

Emo kid, let me just tell you what you've probably heard from your parents a million times. You will look back on photos from this period of your life 10 years from now and say, "GOD, what was I thinking?!" You will, really. I do that today, in fact. I'm still perplexed as to what I thought was so cool about my wide-leg (I'm talking truckload-wide) low-hanging jeans and my collection of baby tees sporting incredible phrases like "as if!" and "whatever." Not to mention the giant yellow smiley faces... {cringe}.

Anyways, what I want to say here is that I'm not too worried about you ... yet. We all go through ridiculous phases of not just fashion, but of taking on new personas. Are you really that drab? So sad and drained inside? Or did you, like I did, run around on playgrounds and get excited over things like lollipops and gumdrops? (Okay, who cares about gumdrops.) But really, think about it. Let yourself smile, okay? Mayhaps you're so upset at the world because you can only see out of one eye. Simple solution! Brush away that wad of flat hair that hangs in your face. Or if you're feeling suffocated by this depressing world, reconsider the source. It might be as easy as buying some jeans that aren't made for Barbie dolls from 1980. You'll find this makes the breathing process much more effective.

And really, the whining thing, the "no one understands me so I'm going to talk in this tonally void way" -- that has got to go.

BFF,

Debbie

Owwww!

2007-04-04T19:50:00.000+05:30

I got shampoo in my eye this morning, and what bothered me more than it hurting like thousands of little cacti needles gently probing my eyeball was the fact that I still get shampoo in my eyes at 23.

I may have to revert back to that Johnson & Johnson tear-free stuff. You know, the yellow kind.

Don't deflate the Blue Bird of Paradise!

2007-03-28T20:21:00.000+05:30

I don't know if it's my mood, or just something I ate, but I don't think I've laughed so hard since 2006 ...

From Discovery Channel's Planet Earth series.

Check out the female's reaction. She's all "What the ...? Get out of my face? No, no seriously, I am NOT into you ..." It's a Night at the Roxbury, birdy-style.

Ooo! Ooo! My first "hate" comment!

2007-03-27T22:32:00.000+05:30

This just in: a comment on my recent post on the news coverage of the case of the poisoned pet food from one who boldly declares him/herself "Anonymous":

"your just as bad making fun of the situation. your a journalist?? you should think about acting like one as your gonna gain credability for being an insensitive jerk!"

Oh, Anonymous, I would say I'm not so much a journalist as I just have a degree and some experience in print journalism. But either way, you've certainly beckoned the grammar Nazi in me with your comment. And oh, dear, yes, it's sad to learn that even people who write and like current events have a soft spot for cracking jokes at tragic situations. Goodness, looking back I think I do deserve a swift kick in the rear. What, had I simply made fun of something more menial - like, say, genocide in Darfur - then maybe you'd not be so upset.
The thing is, Anonymous, if you'd read the entry carefully, you might have noticed that I was not making fun of cats and puppies gulping down lethal doses of rat poison, but instead was highlighting the absurd news coverage given to it by Fox.
If it helps dampen the shock, I'll let you in on a little secret: I like animals very much ...

... but only the ones smart enough to not eat rat poison.

This can and should be played EVERY DAY.

2007-03-27T04:04:00.000+05:30

You Don't Know Jack!, or YDKJ! for us aficionados, is a fantastic and hilarious computer trivia game that I used to play religiously after school circa 1997. Now it's online and free. Try it and be entertained. Be very entertained.

You Don't Know Jack.

Yes, I'm 9 years old, thank you very much.

2007-03-26T22:53:00.000+05:30

It's been consuming me ...
Why don't restaurants require proof of age for people ordering from the children's menu? It seems unfair that I should be required to show the 18-year-old at TGI Friday's my ID to get a $7 drink that allegedly contains Kahlua, but the supposed "8-year-old" one booth down gets his grilled cheese with hardly the bat of an eyelash. Where, I ask, is the justice here?! Grilled cheese, macaroni and cheese, and other cheese-focused food items are not only adored by the "you must be this tall to ride" class. Plus, like prices matter to a 5-year-old. I've noticed some restaurants use clever language to politely say "KEEP OUT" to the rest of us. Language like "For our young friends under 12 years old." Okay, jerk! What have you got for your very poor friends struggling under the weight of student loans?? Where's our $3 Elmo's pizza?
Along similar lines, what about the 55+ menu? Do they check ID for that? I remember my dad getting excited about his 55th birthday because it would mean special discounts on all that "home food." But for those of us whose age lies somewhere between, they've got nothing. In the words of Stephanie, DJ, and little Michelle Tanner: HOW RUDE.
But really I want these restaurant laws to be strictly enforced so that I can successfully build a lucrative business making and selling fake 55+ and 10-and-under IDs to people like my dad who might want to jump the gun on the senior meals, or perhaps to recently-turned 13-year-olds who just can't kick the craving for that bonus toy included with kid's meal purchase. Mostly, though, I'd market to people like me, whose real age lies somewhere in the deep, dark ravine of discountlessness.
I could go into any restaurant right now and order the dinosaur-shaped chicken strips and kiddy sundae, but nary a waitress would hesitate to bark back that I'm clearly too old for the children's menu. But what could they say if I whipped out a professionally crafted, laminated Identification card that plainly showed my picture, and a February 10, 2001 birth date in bold? What could they do?!?

I done died 'n' gone to heaven

2007-03-21T07:14:00.000+05:30

YES.

Atlas Shrugged the movie.
The debate on whether this film is a waste of time is heated, between Ayn Rand lovers and haters, delusional lovers and lovers, and haters and idiots (oxymoron, yes?).

I've taken the liberty of paraphrasing pages and pages of debate on the upcoming book-gone-movie:

Between lovers and haters --
Lovers: It's the best book ever. I can't wait to see it with my very own eyes!
Haters: Ayn Rand sucks. She's so arrogant. I LOVE stealing others' creativity and calling it my own - I banish ye to hell, those who would deprave me of that right!
Between delusional lovers and lovers --
DLs: It's the best book ever. FINALLY, everyone will understand and the world will be perfect.
Ls: It's the best book ever. So let's not screw it up by turning it into a movie, where the messages will undoubtedly become convoluted and skewed to fit Hollywood's idea of entertainment. Plus, who's gonna sit through a 3-hour speech?

Between haters and clueless IMDB addicts who feel the need to say something purely to maintain their status as ... IMDB addicts --
Haters: F*** Ayn Rand and her objective stance. I'll eat babies if I WANT TO!
IMDBAs: Angelina Jolie? I'm in! Wait, what's going on? Hey, does anyone want pizza?...

If words could express how excited I am to see this, I would ... use those words. If anything could explain how I would feel if they did a poor job with the screenplay, it would have to be a dead cat named Snuffles.

Not again!

2007-03-20T05:08:00.000+05:30

I just dreamed I attended Britney Spears' funeral, which was held in Boulder because of a connection my boss has with her mother. I had to go because of work (women in technology, Britney Spears, women in technology, Britney Spears... yes, this is logical). Oprah was there, as well as Britney's two (??) little sisters -- Jay Lynn and Jay Elle, her mom, MY mom, the circus, and Billy Crudup.

This makes complete sense.

Too close. Far too close.

2007-03-20T01:35:00.000+05:30

Oh no! I called my sister this morning to let her know about the pet food recall. Turns out the stuff my kitties eat is on the list! NOOOOOO!!!

What smart little guys, though -- she said they randomly stopped eating it a little over a week ago. Cats are awesome like that. Except Snuffles, who didn't get the memo ... and died.

I'm telling you - after my brush with death via Peter Pan, and now this ... I'm about to start my own sustainable farming community and say to heck with all this name brand poison.

Sad day for Snuffles

2007-03-19T21:26:00.000+05:30

You may or may not have heard about the recent recall of over 40 brands of wet cat and dog food. It’s being recalled because it’s causing kidney failure, and in some cases, death of many well-loved pets around the nation.

That is horribly sad, but possibly not as sad as the quality of news coverage given to it on Fox news last night. First, they had an on-the-scene live report, which was actually just the parking lot of a PetSmart, a store which truly has earned negative points in the hundreds with me (see this post about the escaped Dalmatian). The reporter standing outside PetSmart gave us the lead, the info we needed to know concerning what type of food it is that’s causing kidney failure and death in cats and dogs, etc.

The last segment of the story was equally informative. Fox interviewed a vet who disclosed certain warning signs that your pet may be being poisoned. What I learned from him was this: If my pet is puking, collapsing, or acting sluggish, I should be concerned. Thanks. Because I was going to let it slide and see what happened.

Now here’s where I take a bit of issue with the way this story was delivered. And anything I have to say on the issue can be considered expert commentary. I have, after all, earned a degree in journalism, which immediately qualifies me to rant or rave in any way I please, right? Whatever. Did YOU endure hours of coma-inducing city council or school board meetings, only to report that yes, our kids are getting dumber, and no, it should not be allowable for land owners to blow up rabid prairie dogs with the bubonic plague? Didn’t think so. I’m so a journalist.

1)The pre-newscast commercials. You know how they always like to leave you hanging so you actually watch the newscast that will air later? That’s typical. It’s dumb, but typical. But ethical? That’s another box ‘o’ tissues. I don’t consider making me wait in fear to find out if my dog’s food is killing him to be edge-of-my-seat excitement. Don’t pull that, Fox. Tell me what I need to know, rather than spiritedly exclaiming “Do you think your cat or dog is safe? Just wait till you hear what might be killing it RIGHT NOW. Watch at 10 for details!” Well, crap!!!

2)The anecdote. In the case of the toxic pet food story, a reporter went to the home of a happy picket-fenced-in family living in the 'burbs of Denver. Two loving parents, two perfect children, and one adoring 17-year-old cat named something like Snuffles. Until now, that is – because Snuffles is DEAD.
The interview begins with the family together on the couch, and the mother is explaining how it’s been so tough, so very tough. So tough that her little girl has had a really hard time with it and doesn’t like to talk about it. Good call, then, putting her in front of a camera and rehashing in detail how kitty cat slowly and painfully died of kidney failure.
That poor little girl! Imagine this – a furry friend who has been around since before you were born, and suddenly dies because of a bad batch of food. It’s hard enough without Mom and Dad calling in camera crews and reporters to broadcast it across the state.
Do you think they called their friends and family? “Hey ya’ll! Be sure to watch Fox 31 tonight! We gon’ be on the TELLY-vision! Why? Oh, the cat died. No, don’t be sorry – this is our big break! Tomorrow I’m registering Cindy May for the local beauty pageant…”

But I’m being insensitive here. I mean, I certainly needed AND had a strong desire to hear about how Snuffles first started puking, then became weak and started wandering off into dark corners to die alone, and then, eventually, just didn’t wake up. Tragic, yes. But the real tragedy was watching poor Cindy May squirm on the couch, about ready to lose it as her mother told the reporter all the gory details. I swear, you could see the glint of hope-for-fame in her eyes. Ignore the bawling child, she’ll get over it…

R.I.P. Snuffles. R.I.P. And check your pet food.

Off to find my rainy ravine.

2007-03-19T05:33:00.000+05:30

I don't know if it's the result of having one (five?) too many green beers last night, or the over $1000 I just payed in bills (not even including the rent). Or mayhaps I'm just hungry. But whatever it is, could it please disengage and let me not feel dark and angsty enough to club a baby seal?

This is how I feel right now: alcejawopiausdvlknvel an sldkveo !!!!! That, if you're finding it hard to decipher, is my forehead typing something along the lines of what this guy is saying:

Where is the rain when you need it?

Horrible movie

2007-03-18T01:02:00.000+05:30

Currently: Dying my hair and watching "Leprechaun," a 1993 film playing on the Sci-Fi channel, starring Jennifer Aniston and Warwick Davis. It's a winner. Happy St. Patty's Day!

I went skiing yesterday at Winter Park, and despite the spf 50 sunscreen I wore on my face, I still burned a pretty something. On a side not, I must declare how proud I am for attempting and not dying on moguls. Twice. Once by force (thanks, Carrie), and once entirely by accident when I went off by myself.

Sharp, pointy TEETH!

2007-03-15T11:46:00.000+05:30

Every year either on or around my birthday, patterns surrounding some type of object or topic emerge about once a month. Last year, it was a series of calamities regarding my dear Treasure (think crashes, vandalism, theft...). This year, as I am now realizing, the topic of fate's choice is rampant dogs running wild.

The pattern begins with an event occurring on or around my birthday. In this year's case, it happened the day before (Feb. 9th) when a dalmatian escaped the jaws of PetSmart and fled for its freedom right toward this girl. It is explained in full detail here.

The pattern continues about 1 month later (i.e. NOW) with a similar incident. That incident occurred on Saturday the 10th, and is slightly more graphic. Parents should remove all children from the room, or, if interested in preventing any child from begging for a puppy, a cute, sweet puppy, read this loudly and with passion ...

Andy and I decided to take Buzz for a walk. Buzz is a Schipperke, and aside from awkward snarly noises and his disgusting bright pink penis that inevitably shimmies its way out if you're even thinking about petting him, Buzz is a very sweet, small, and unaggressive dog. After about 2 agonizing minutes of whimpering at the door and practically going into seizures waiting for Andy and I to find our shoes, keys, grab some water, etc., Buzz was very ready to go on this walk.

We went out the front door and were immediately accosted by two curious neighbor dogs. One was a friendly and hyper golden retriever puppy who ran to me. The other, we'll call him "Angry," went straight for Buzz, who was with Andy on his leash. The neighbor girl had barely finished saying "The one is fine, but be careful with the black one, he's not very friendly," when the black dog used his jaws to pick up Buzz by the neck, shake him about and then toss him aside. It happened so fast I was practically in shock, but not nearly as much as poor little Buzzy, who was shakin' it like a Polaroid picture. The weird thing is, within seconds his mind was back on the walk. If this doesn't indicate how often Buzz gets taken on walks, nothing will.

All I can say is thank God Schipperkes were bred to have hair like this guy.

But seriously, if you've got a dog you know to be aggressive, perhaps don't let it run loose and attack other animals when they walk out the front door. Just a thought.

A review of all that is random, parte uno

2007-03-11T08:15:00.000+05:30

The first in its series, this review of all that is random covers technologically awesome gadgetry, infomercial products, Doritos, video games, and the movie 300.

300: A professional critique
3.5 stars (out of 5)
What I liked:
The gore. 300 was inundated with splattering blood and loss of limb. But it was so fake-looking and excessive that it was more like watching The Itchy and Scratchy show, so I was able to handle it just fine.

The BODIES. 6 months of really intense fight training does a body good. As a Denver Post critic put it, "There is nary a fella among them who couldn't own the cover of Men's Health." For your enjoyment (perhaps more for mine), here is what I'm talking about:

What I did not think was hot:
Xerxes. Alright, who let Ru Paul into Xerxes' make-up trailer? C'mon, fess up ...

Technologically awesome gagdetry

Blue faucet light, Discovery Channel Store.
I'm proud to say I own this one. It makes for fun, cheap entertainment for those with little social life (or skills -- no need to talk when this baby's on). But it does encourage water waste. If only it came with a bathtub adapter.

Infomercial Products
some of this stuff's been around for years, but if it's new to me, it's ... new to me.

Therashower. This is such a cool product that they weren't even showing it at 3 a.m. It's a detachable showerhead with replaceable water filters that take care of chlorine and all that other nasty crap in tap water. But wait! That's not all! It also holds a cartridge of scented beads that releases steamy aromatherapy every time you turn on the shower. Order now for just $29.99 and get a lifetime supply of filter cartridges (and free "soapy sponge"!!!). WOWZA!!! (Let me know if it works, too. )

Noise amplifier. I just saw a commercial for this thing, and I can't find it online, and I would never venture to order it, either. but I thought it interesting because they actually advertise using it for eavesdropping purposes, like there's nothing morally askew there. Oh, but don't worry - it's also very practical, like if you're sitting in church and have a hard time hearing the sermon (no joke, both uses were advertised).

Doritos: The conspiracy
Spicy Nacho, Cooler Ranch, and Original Doritos are classic yummys. But has anyone other than myself and my roommate noticed that they are just not quite as "spicy," "Cool," or generally "Original" as they originally were? The Dorito conspiracy theory goes like this. Dorito now has it's younger, hipper chips to promote, like "Fiery Habenero," "Rancho," "Taco," "Toasted Corn," "Light Nacho Cheese," "Reduced Fat Cool Ranch," "Black Pepper Jack," "Salsa," "Salsa Verde," and "Blazin' Buffalo and Ranch." Didn't know there were so many, huh? That's a lot of flavor to promote. So why not dampen that flavor in the classics, which will always be big sellers, get folks to start thinking that maybe their Dorito relationship is getting a bit stale and much, much too corny. Then BAM! Introduce a plethora of new wild and exciting chip possibilities. Hmm, you had us for a while, Doritos - but now we're on to you. Tricksey and false, I tell you ... Tricksey and false.

Mario Kart double dash
I'm no video game connoisseur, but I do know my Mario Kart. An avid N64 Mario Kart gamer, I could tell you just about every short-cut, name every track, and even hum the music that goes with each one. What I'm saying is this: take me seriously here.
Mario Kart Double Dash on Nintendo GameCube is not as cool. Sure, it may have clearer graphics, more receptive controllers, and little baby versions of the classic characters, but part of the fun of the original Mario Kart was the confusion of it all. I reveled in my angry yet sentimentally loyal "What the hell?! I totally did NOT slip on that banana!," or my opponent's furious "I am NOT telling you to go that way! WHAT ARE YOU DOING, WARIO?" What about the ambiguously gay Luigi's post-race antics, and Peach's absolutely unsubtle whoring of herself? Or Rainbow Road, the creator of which was clearly shrooming. Don't we want that back? I say why let go of the past so easily? It's in all that chaos that we truly found ourselves.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
If there's anything you'd like reviewed in the next edition of "A review of all that is random," send it my way and I'll see what I can do!

Donate some tampons for free. No, really!

2007-03-10T05:45:00.000+05:30

Women's shelters in the U.S. go through thousands of tampons and pads monthly. Assistance agencies generally help with expenses of "everyday" necessities such as toilet paper, diapers, and clothing, but one of the most BASIC needs is overlooked - feminine hygiene products. To a woman in a shelter $5 for a box of tampons is a lot of money.

Seventh Generation, a green paper products and cleaning products company, has a do-good attitude and will donate a box of sanitary products to a women's shelter in your chosen state - just for clicking the link. Talk about easy (literally takes less than 1 minute and they ask nothing of you). And, yes, it is Legitimate!

http://www.tampontification.com/donate.php

Hansaplast, you irk me.

2007-03-02T12:46:00.000+05:30

Earlier I told a fun little puff piece on how I dreamed I was eating salami and then later, when I was awake, I could smell it even though there was none present. Here is the continuation of that story:

I smelled it again tonight, and I told my roomie, Ben. I said, "Ben, do you smell it?!" and he replied: "Hmm, no. But you know how sometimes when people have brain tumors they'll start smelling burning?..."

And now I live in fear. Not such a puff piece anymore, is it, BEN?

Now for a bit of nothing:
I wouldn't recommend using band-aids purchased in Nicaragua for actual open wounds. When I went to Nicaragua a couple years ago, we did so much walking that I started to get blisters, so I bought a standard box of bandaids (not BandAid brand, no) to put on the bottom of my feet. That was all fine and well, but since then I've been using that same box, because how many bandaids do you go through when you're not 5, you know? And every time I use one I get so annoyed with myself, because the little pad on these bandaids is fluorescent orange, and every time it leaves this hideous bright orange rectangle stain. I've got a scrape on the top of my hand right now, and I used one of those damn "Hansaplasts" again. It looks as though I spent my evening in some 18+ club that obnoxiously stamps the hands of those not-of-age so as to keep them from even lifting a glass containing alcohol without hailing a bartender. I bet this stain even glows in black light ...

A new generation of employees

2007-03-02T00:33:00.000+05:30

What, with 500 billion blogs being published every 10 seconds (it's a fact - don't cross me), there are a lot of us out there who feel the need to divulge our inner dialogue, our innerlogue if you will (or mayhaps "dialinner"?). I wonder just how that affects our careers (or our attempts at them).

The "bosses" of today didn't have these forums when they were starting out. They were hired based on first, second and maybe third impressions. Or they had a good connection. But what would someone looking to hire me say if they read all about me on this blog? This topic has been covered broadly, I know, but today I got to thinking about how it is going to change things when WE become the "bosses," the ones who choose the ones who'll follow. Not that many adults in older generations don't, but we, because we were literally raised on this wave of new web technology, have know-how that will only continue to burst through generations.

I think it will get to a point where if we punch in a possible hire's name in our favorite search engine, and we don't get a list of things to click on, we'll be less likely to follow up. Even if it's a locked Facebook profile, a private blog, something we can't even learn anything from -- if they're not somehow linked to technology, we might not want them. This, of course, is assumptive and brash. But I think even at this point I'm so used to being able to "stalk" just about anyone online that I'm a little disappointed when I can't find anything. Like a "come on - get with it!" kind of attitude. But then that's entirely selfish, too.

On a completely different subject, there was salami in my dreams last night and I was eating it. That alone doesn't warrant me typing it, but what does is that I am now smelling salami in the apartment, even though we've got none. Hmmm, Waking Life? ...

Okay, but now that I've mentioned smelling salami, I've got a story to tell. Freshman year in the dorms, the people below (probably above and all around as well) used to smoke a lot of pot (hi, it's Boulder), and often it would come through the vent in our room and stink it up. Well this happened one day while I was hanging out with Macky in her room next door, and her roommate came in. We'll call her Tara for protection's sake. The conversation went as follows:
{Enter Tara}
Me and Macky (M&M):Hey Tara.
Tara: Hi! {pauses} Ummm ... are you guys cooking? ...
M&M: {exchange looks of curiosity at such a question, because a)we were in a dorm room that didn't even contain a sink, and b)us cook? bah.} Err, no Tara - that would be the smell of weed.
Tara: ... oh. It kind of smells like salami.

What Matt Coddington taught me about blogging

2007-02-24T05:50:00.000+05:30

A blog on "5 Blogging Methods That Work" was sent to me by my roommate, Ben, who supports me in my nerdiness and, in fact, feeds it quite well. For example, I sit and watch him play Final Fantasy XII (or MXIVIIII or something) and then I play Rez, a sweet and addictive game with a cover design that looks to be circa 1970.

Back to this article. Let's see if I can pull it all together. Here's the list of the top 5, and my comments:

1. Breaking a Post Down into a List -- done and done. This is a list, duh.

2. The "What [person/group/experience] Taught Me About [topic]" Strategy -- (check out the title of this post.)

3. Link-farm Posts -- This is not what it sounds like. I don't even know what it sounds like, but it does sound confusing. This would be where I give a shout out to Matt Coddington, for coming up with such a spectacular blog about blogging. Good work, Matt. But I've got more good blogs I regularly read to share with you. I'll try to figure out how to post them in the sidebar or something.

4. Make All of Your Posts Personal -- Alright, it's time for PSS (personal story sharing). This is where I relate a personal experience to whatever it is I'm blogging about. For instance, I'm currently writing about efficient ways to make a blog attractive, which rather reminds me of how I like to buy things on clearance. Actually there's no relation there, but that was part of my surprise story segue (yaaay!) ...

I've bought many a clearance item, some of them better decisions than others. For example, some of the better things I've found at something near 75% off include: adorable jewelery, some navy corduroys, shiny things. Some less-than-quality clearance shelf buys that, admittedly, were the result of sheer excitement at the low cost, include: hideous jewelery, clothes I've never worn, a dead puppy. Hey, it was on clearance.

Was that personal enough? This section also recommends offering personal opinion and advice. My advice to you? Think twice before you buy that Conair Quick Braid automatic hair braider, even if it is only $5. I'm proud to say I didn't give in to this one, but I've been tempted more than once.

5. Interlink Everything -- I'll just continue to use the "I have a problem with clearance items" story to give examples of this one...
Seriously guys, I'm beginning to learn my lesson here. I now know that items go on clearance for a reason, because they are A) designed to fit the bodies of strangely disproportionate people; B) are butt-ugly; C)are defective or harmful to people like me - like that Tetris game I bought and quickly became addicted to this summer (it's broken now); D)are kind of cool, but you'll never, EVER use it. Think the HEBE Ceramic Heater that "quickly warms feet and ankles" in your car, among other things. Here's a link to an obscure Russian website that features this amazing product, which I actually purchased over 2 years ago for a meager amount at Target, though I don't know how or why. It's still in the package.

So, according to this Coddington fellow, I should be all set with a successful blog. I've got all his suggested elements. What, you say it was ridiculously all over the place, came to no conclusion and contained nothing noteworthy or entertaining? Well, you read this far ...

Children like to throw themselves to the wind...

2007-02-24T03:30:00.000+05:30

... but the wind will NOT CATCH YOU, children!!!

At what point in our growing up years do we get the idea that we're kind of on our own? No, seriously. When do we stop trusting that someone will be there to catch us if we literally fall?

I ask because Jack, the beautiful little babe I babysit weekly, has taken to throwing himself down spiral slides. Like, diving with all the force he can muster. I barely have time for a death-defying leap from the playground to the base of the slide to catch him, and as I heave breaths of relief at his survival, Jack is furiously giggling with glee. I do love his lack of trepidation, and I know I can keep him safe, but my lord - do they all do this?

Other funny Jack stories:

-Today he discovered his shadow, which absolutely freaked him out. He tried to run away from it, which, if you have any experience with shadows, doesn't work. It was truly a hilarious thing to watch, and me being the cruel babysitter I am, laughed at him. Soon he realized it was kind of with him against his will, and he would point at it and yell "Stop!" When he started to cry I stepped in ... but I was still laughing inside. The photo to the left is Jack giving his shadow a "What! You want summa THIS?!?" look -- right before the tears came.

-He's recently found excessive use for the word "no." For example:
"Jack, here's some of your favorite cheese!" ----"no."
"Jack, it's time to leave the park now." ------"mmm, no."
"Jack, do you like sitting in your own poo?" ---"no." "So let's get your diaper changed." ---"...no." {deploy devious look, twist free, run away laughing}

Fine, then. You enjoy that.

Unabashed, no ash

2007-02-22T11:29:00.000+05:30

Ash Wednesday has come again, and for the second time within my span of memory, I didn't go. I can feel the guilt creeping through me. Whether that guilt is Catholic-induced or it's just me, I don't really know, but it's oddly annoying and saddening at the same time. It's strange not being part of something I once considered so powerfully real. But it's harder yet to sit through a mass and keep my mouth from opening and saying all those things I used to say. "Lord, I am not worthy..."; "I believe in one God, the Father Almighty..."; and the ultimate in monotone: "It is right to give Him thanks and praise..." (don't anyone change your intonation - you might pull a throat muscle).

I went to mass with my parents recently, and come communion time I had no idea what to do. Realizing the monumental meaning of the Eucharist to the Catholic church (since I used to be pretty hard core about it myself), I didn't want to take it, out of respect. But then there were all these friends of mine across the pews who would see that whole new side of me, that far-drifted girl who used to be so solid in her faith. Former Catholics on Campus Vice President, anyone? Buffalo Awakening 2-8?

I was telling Andy how weird it felt not to have ashes on my forehead today. He offered to make a fire and put an ash smiley face on my forehead to make me feel better. Kind offer. Blasphemous, but kind. :)

After reading Sue Monk Kidd's The Dance of the Dissident Daughter, I feel so much more founded in a spirituality that is sort of all my own. What I love about the Church is the community it provides. What I dislike about it is enough to keep me away, at least for now. I haven't lost hope in the Church, but for me, right now, at this time in my life, it's not something I'll settle for, or fight for, either.

I've got this blog, but why I'm reciting these concerns here is kind of intriguing to me. I guess I like a little controversy -- feeling that little rush of knowing a lot of people reading this might be surprised or {gasp!} offended. But it's honest, and I'm convinced that's the best way to be with things like this.

Let me just say that I have incredible respect for the people who work for the Church - to keep it strong and make it beautiful, and to work toward goodness and truth. I have real love for the friends I've met there, and find inspiration from just about every one of them.

So offer up your opinions, comments, discussions ... I'd love to hear them, and I mean that.
Oh, and this "serious" business is temporary, so get it while it lasts!

And I didn't end up taking the Eucharist that day in church. I did go up to get blessed by the priest.

More disgust with peanut products.

2007-02-22T05:18:00.000+05:30

After my bout with salmonella butter, I thought I was done complaining about peanuts. But I just discovered that my 1.75 oz. "Sensible Solution" Planters Lightly Salted Dry Roasted Peanuts of the snack tube variety contain 25 grams of fat. That's like half a whopper, and I don't see how that's "sensible." They're not even honey-roasted!

Software for starving students

2007-02-20T04:43:00.000+05:30

Found this on Lifehacker the other day. It looks to contain some really cool software, whether you've got Windows or a Mac. And then a few things you might not pee your pants over, like BZFla g, a 3D multi-player "capture the flag" tank game. But then again, it might be cool.

One of the coolest things on this is MozoDojo (Macs only). It's photo-mosaic software that lets you ... well, just look below at this picture of me at the 2006 World Cup in Germany, compiled from the other 650 pictures of my trip to Europe.Sweeeet. I haven't downloaded the Starving Student package yet, but you can go through a list of what it gives you and download them one-by-one if that suits your fancy, too.

24 Hour Pizza

2007-02-17T04:23:00.000+05:30

Snagged this from Brad Feld's blog. It's quite awesome.

Choosy moms choose Jif ...

2007-02-16T12:36:00.000+05:30

... because the competition contains salmonella. Ew.

Funny story - I was sitting at my desk this morning munching on a banana and adding little swipes of peanut butter to each bite for added flavor. My co-worker Stephanie walks in and says something like, "Good morning! Oh, did you check to make sure that's not the kind of peanut butter that got recalled today for containing salmonella?"

"Um, what?" I said. Only it came out more like, "Uhhhh, whaaa?" because my mouth was full of sticky pb.

So we went to USAToday.com, where sure enough, there's a headline on the front page warning of the recall. But what are the chances that it's the same brand AND batch that I've got in my mouth, right? I begin to scan the story:

"The Food and Drug Administration (FDA) announced Wednesday night that jars of Peter Pan and Wal-Mart's Great Value brand peanut butter beginning with the product code "2111" on the lid of the jar could be contaminated with the strain Salmonella Tennessee..."

I checked the lid of my Peter Pan jar and literally gasped. "2111..." I do believe a look of pure horror seeped into my face, not just because I'd had some of the death butter with my banana that morning, but because half the jar was already gone.

But I didn't just feel scared. I felt angry. Duped. But not as angry and duped as when I stubbed my toe on my bathroom door, and then actually verbally apologized to the door without thinking. The anger set in when I began to feel the pain of stubbing your toe, and although I directed my anger at the door, the root of it was really more from A)me running into the door, and B)me saying "oops, I'm sorry!" to a WOODEN DOOR. It happens, though. That was last week and we've since reconciled.

Anyways ...

When I got home tonight I checked my cupboard for the other jar I had, which, to my surprise, was also of the salmonella type. Mmmm, yummy. This one was 3/4 gone. If I'm not around in a week or so, someone please sue Peter Pan for me.

I have one more thing to say about this "situation," if you will. The strain is called "Salmonella Tennessee." What? Why? Who named it that, and what sort of insult is that to Tennessee-ans? It's like the FDA is saying, "This one's bad. Real bad. Yes, I would say this diarrhea-inducing, vomit-wielding, possibly deadly strain of salmonella is comparable to the nasty effects of the state of Tennessee. " I think that's just a little harsh. I've been to Nashville, and it's pretty neat.

It's not every day you see that kind of action

2007-02-12T22:50:00.000+05:30

"Stop that dog! STOP THE DOG! Dammit! Every time!!! ..."

Now let's rewind a bit, because I've gone and jumped to the best part of the story without giving any background information. But let me preface this by saying that this is the closest I've had to a real-life scene from 24.

It was Friday afternoon and I was out running errands. I went to the Rite Aid in North Boulder to fill a prescription, and they said it would be about 15 minutes. So I decided to walk to the Wells Fargo in the same shopping strip and do a bit of banking. Between those two said stores is an empty space that used to be Albertson's, another empty space that used to be Ross, and a PetSmart - still open but possibly not for long if you get where this is going already.

So I'm walking down the sidewalk and look up to see a 70-pound lab/dalmation bolting directly at me at maybe 155 mph. No, kidding, but it was running as though it's life depended on it, which by the looks of the exasperated and angry PetSmart employees high-tailing after it, may have been the case. These girls, of course were the voice of the "Stop that dog!" exclamation - a phrase directed at me, the innocent bystander toward whom the dog ran. I did not stop the dog. I kind of put my hand out in a gesture that, far too late, said something like "Excuse me, dog? Someone would like your attention ...". It did not work, and these PetSmart people who un-exscudedly let this dog get away while they were clipping its claws or something, gave me a look like, "You could have done better than that!"

What was I supposed to do? Hunch over in prep-stance as though I could just dive 6 feet in whichever direction the dog chose to bi-pass me on? Uh-uh. I am not Misty May. Or Jack Bauer.

So I went and did my banking. When I walked back to Rite Aid there were 3 policemen and a couple of teens whose bags were being rifled through by said policemen. One of them looked not busy, so I asked him: "Did they catch that dog?" He thought I was crazy, according to the look on his face, and because he replied with "Excuse me?!"

But then out of nowhere one of the kids being searched starts laughing and says to me, "No, man, they chased it that way! SO funny!!!"

While I appreciated receiving the information I had requested, I couldn't help but wonder why the teen shoplifter in the process of being searched and arrested got such a kick out of the situation, too. But even the cop started laughing. Bizarre.

But gosh, I miss living in that area of North Boulder -aka the ghetto of Boulder. I'll have to stop by more often and see what more excitement I can find.

"Taste the Magic of Mexico" at Casa Bonita

2007-02-12T22:11:00.000+05:30

Some people think Casa Bonita is an appropriate place for, say, a 3-year-old's birthday. But is it particularly inappropriate for a 23-year-old's? Because that's how I rang in the new birth-year. As a Casa Bonita virgin, I wasn't sure what to expect, either. Everytime someone mentions it I learn something new: "Oh, they've got cliff divers"; "Hey, I love their sopapillas!"; "Don't touch the walls of Bart's Cave"; "Don't miss out on the fortune teller- she looks just like Michael Jackson"; "Don't bother sending your food back. It all tastes that bad"; "Watch out for that creepy gorilla!" The strange part is that all of this I actually came to understand after going, and it doesn't sound so weird to me now.

My birthday was a blast, actually. After Casa Bon-eat-crap-for-food, a dozen of us went to Splitz bowling, which is bowling on steroids AND crack. It wasn't just the bad food, ski ball and beer that made me so happy that night. It was trying Dance Dance Revolution and NOT getting it AT ALL. It was breaking 100 points two games in a row, despite thick and choking smoke machine fog, deafening Top 40 music, strobe lights, colored lights and dizzying disco balls. And it was being with really fun friends at really funny places. I love a night in which you can go to Casa Bonita, go play bowling-on-acid, and follow all that up by waiting in Taco Bell's 30 minute drive-thru at 2 a.m. for some more bad Mexican food. This is why I have concluded that 23 is not old. Not at all, in fact. It's just an extension of being a teenager with a whole lot more freedom. I'm only 2 years away from being able to rent a car from virtually ANY car rental company, you know.

On Saturday, Jeff, Andy and I went to Mustard's Last Stand with high expectations that were far from met, but we did get to see a lone crazy man on Broadway and Arapahoe holding a hand-painted piece of cardboard that read "Hilary is Hitler." Andy made me a delicious dinner on Saturday, and I baked a "sweet and salty" chocolate cake (from scratch!) and made (from scratch) a caramel-chocolate ganache frosting for it -- with help from Stephanie and Andy. Yummm... There's lots left over, so come and get it while it lasts! To top off the evening, Steph did a remarkably accurate and awesome Tarrot reading for me.

This beats out last year's notable birthday incident in which a car crashed into my dear Treasure ('95 Taurus, power seats and windows) at 12:07 a.m. - the exact minute of my birth.

So thanks, guys! I love you!

Superman wears Jack Bauer pajamas.

2007-01-23T11:36:00.000+05:30

Jack Bauer is my hero. And that is likely what this entire blog will be about.

It's not so much that he could literally take over the world if the only remaining part of his body was his pinky finger that makes me give JB my well-deserved respect. It's more the sheer amount of shit this guy can get away with and leave every 24-addict leaping with joy and cheering him on the whole way.

Take tonight's episode of 24, in which Jack reunited with his brother (with whom he hasn't spoken in 4 seasons ... ahem ... days ... okay - years and years). Within 5 minutes of seeing him again, Jack, in his brother's own home, had punched his lights out, locked the two of them in his oversized office, tied him to a chair by the wires of a lamp and pulled a plastic bag over his head saying "you did this to yourself."
And let's not forget that within the first hour of returning to the U.S. (after a 20-month stint in a Chinese torture prison) Jack Bauer escaped one of the most powerful terrorists in the world by killing a man with his teeth. That's right, Kiefer went back to his old days as a blood-sucking vampire in "Lost Boys." After not having spoken a word in almost 2 years, and after having been tortured during that minor period of his life, he had the strength and guts to crunch down on a trained guard's jugular and rip it out, thereby killing him, with his MOUTH.
Oh, he also shot and killed his most trusted and best-skilled, best friend. And what do we do? We gasp a little, we say "wtf just happened?! Did Jack just kill Curtis?! But I LOVE Curtis!" Then a nuke goes off and we say "Go, Jack, GO! You did what you had to ... poor Jack, what an emotionally rough return to work. "

Let's look at this mathematically:
A = Man kills best friend = evil
B = Man tortures long-lost brother = rude
C = Man kills man with teeth = PSYCHOPATHIC

Therefore, ...
A + B + C = unlikely probability of man having a cheerleading squad equaling the population of the United States of America.

Now I'm no pro at proofs. I haven't had to do one since 7th grade, in fact. But I think you get the point.

So what am I getting at with all this banter? Nothing that I was actually planning to get to, really. But after compiling the evidence, I've surprised myself (and you?) by actually coming to a point here. Jack Bauer is a man with the candor of God, the physical tenacity of Atlas, and the imperialism of Zeus. His name has become synonymous with Chuck Norris', only we're serious when we say "Jack Bauer wasn't born -- he was unleashed."

He's nothing short of a modern-day superhero, and he's been deemed all these things by taking on terrorists with brute force and plenty of violence. Jack Bauer and his 24 crew have together earned millions of dollars and just as many fans; in 2006 the show raked in 12 Emmy nominations and took home 4, two of them from the biggest categories: "Outstanding Lead Actor in a Drama Series" and "Outstanding Drama Series." This year promises another slew of awards.
Needless to say, we're big proponents of this character's career, and it's fun to be part of a cultish following similar to that of college football or LOST fans. I just think it's interesting that this type of fervor lives strong in the hearts of so many, and yet we scratch our heads in utter confusion as to how George W. Bush ever got re-elected. Hmmm ...

I'm not trying to get anyone to watch - or not watch - this undeniably entertaining drama. But it raises the question of just how much fictionalized politics affect the real thing. Do we, in some immeasurable way, keep from keeping peace because we can't betray the undefeatable ideal that Jack Bauer represents?

Chew on that, why don't you? :)

I almost peed my pants

2007-01-18T03:51:00.000+05:30

From an 81-year-old woman named Gladys who called Ellen Degeneres to tell her to rearrange her plants on the stage:

"Listen, I'll be honest -- I love Jesus but I drink a little."

I've got a lot of living to do

2006-11-11T23:35:00.000+05:30

I've only been to 5% of the world. Gotta get on that.

create your own visited countries map
or vertaling Duits Nederlands

Probably off by one or 5, but I've been to 31 U.S. states!

2006-11-11T23:26:00.000+05:30

This is pretty basic, but it's cool and a fun way to brag! :)
p.s. I miss blogging

create your own visited states map
or check out these Google Hacks.

A Public Service Announcement - NOT to be taken lightly

2006-08-31T03:05:00.000+05:30

Boys and girls, if ever anyone happens to be washing your clothes for you, kindly remove all objects* from them, lest a black ball-point pen come uncapped and ruin like five of that washerperson's favorite shirts - and some really cute underwear. Grrrr....

*This includes coins, bobby pins and receipts containing sensitive information regarding recent purchases

This is why I think I have adult ADD

2006-08-31T02:12:00.000+05:30

Okay, so I just realized that in that last blog, I started the second part with "Now for some more sentiments on joblessness," and then proceeded to write 373 words (I did do a word count, yes) on writing and being addicted to Tetris and other such visual things.

I'm dumb. I'll write about the joblessness thing later.

Pace out. (I did not misspell that. It's Latin.)

Long A's, O's and Tetris ...

2006-08-31T01:39:00.000+05:30

... on a stick.

First of all, I must mention my going to MN tonight for what might be the best time of year ever to be there. I take that back - there is no best time of year to be in MN because it all kicks ass, and YES that includes those 30-below frigid days in winter. Those days always make me feel proud to be capable in conditions like that. Most people think it makes us stupid, but they just don't know. Anyways, back to the glory that is this upcoming trip. Tail end of summer, meaning the smell of fall will be in the air, but the lake water's still warm enough for skiing. Minnesota State Fair, where you can buy spaghetti on a stick if you want to. I don't know why you would, but you can. My family, who I love love love and cannot wait to spend time with. There's nothing better than flying in and looking below to see the land of 10,000 (it's actually closer to 15,000) lakes ... on a stick.

Now for some more sentiments on joblessness. I guess you know when you've got the mind of a writer, because as soon as I started regularly writing again, every random occurence throughout the day is re-calculated in my mind as if I were blogging. I don't think like a normal person anymore. I think as though I'm typing it all down. I wonder if that's good practice and will ultimately make me a better writer (and typist?) down the road. Or maybe it means I truly am not sane in the membrane.
Oh, wait - another "thought" is coming in.
I don't know if there's a medical term for this condition, but I've got what I am going to deem a visual addiction to anything I rest my eyes on regularly. I blame my mom, but not because I have anything against her. I just know she does this, too. Whenever I start playing some type of game on a computer or t.v. screen, I can't get it out of my head. Example: Tetris.* Tetris, to me, is like that old best friend who you absolutely love but can't hang around with anymore because they're likely to get you a)killed, or b)arrested. When I start playing Tetris, I eat, sleep and breathe it. I also kick butt at that game, I think for the reasons I just stated. It's not like I play it constantly. Even if I limit myself to one 4-hour time slot a day (exaggerating, yes ... maybe ... also maybe not), I see little blue, green, red and yellow blocks falling before me and rotating until they nestle themselves in perfect puzzle alignment while I'm sleeping, when I'm in conversation, when I'm "excercising," eating or blinking.
So that's what's happening with this blog thing. It's dangerous, but probably somewhat healthier than Tetris, so I'm not going to stop cold turkey just yet. Luckily, my writing tone is what could be considered "conversational," so if I do start spouting off random pieces, I won't sound that crazy, whereas if I were currently visually addicted to Dune, the book I'm reading, and I started repeating sections of that thing - well, let's just say I'd have a lot of "awesome" friends ... my beau being one of them. :)

*This game is perhaps the most addicting game ever, likely created by A.I. in the 80s as a way to distract us from their invasion and probing and whatnot. Who can really say they didn't infiltrate 1 in every 5 people? Can you? Have you ever played Tetris? Then you cannot.

Some relationships never find an exit off the highway to hell

2006-08-29T13:12:00.000+05:30

My car is such a trooper. I'd like to commemorate his being with me for 3 years now in a special way, by writing a 2006 highlight of the dear 'ol fellow's life -- and near-death -- experiences.

February 10th, 2006. 12:07 a.m.: It was a snowy night, and we were heading East on Arapahoe Road in Boulder, sitting ho-hum in the left turning lane of one of Boulder's hottest intersections - 28th and Arapahoe. Treasure, the girls and I were discussing the turn of the minute from 12:06 to 12:07 a.m., which just so happened to be the exact minute I turned 22. "Happy Birthday!" we all said. Then, from out of the frosty moonlight (streetlight?) came a black sedan. It appeared to be gliding across the intersection in a half-turn, as if dancing in graceful joy for the falling of the snow. What it actually was doing was a violent, uncontrolled skid directed right at my dear Treasure, who up until this very moment had never been violated in such a way. Car smashing number one of 2006 fell upon us.

March 12th, 2006. 6:30 p.m.: It was a snowy night, and we were heading East on Arapahoe Road in Boulder (I didn't even have to re-type that first part; I just copied and pasted from car smashing #1) when at an intersection up ahead there rang a loud CRASH-BOOM-BANG! Treasure, sensing danger, gladly allowed me to steer us onto a curb, narrowly slipping between a giant oak and the car ahead. Breathing a simultaneous sigh of relief, Treasure, the roomie and I turned our heads just in time to see car-smasher no. 2 come gliding across the snow-slicked road, again giving off an appearance of metallic grace and beauty. How false it was, for it smashed my poor Treasure from behind and he was never the same again. We've worked together at rebuilding a trust with the road, with fellow cars and, come this winter, with the snow. Treasure's progress was obvious and astounding, like a child overcoming a stress-induced stutter. But the glory was to fade as did the snow to the heat of summer...

July 2oth, 2006. Early a.m.: It was a snowy night, and we were ... oops, sorry. I just got so used to it ...
The incident occured unbeknownst to me until the later hours of morning, when I awoke to a note on the carpet. "Debbie, my love ..." I read, but didn't read on just yet, as I was on the phone. "How sweet," thought I, that my beau would leave me a love note to wake up to when he had left early in the morning for a 4-day camping trip. Once off the phone and ready to receive enscribed sweet nothings from my love, I went back to the note to finish it. "Debbie, my love ...". It continued on: "I backed into your car... [insert information regarding it being an accident and that his car got the brunt of the damage, etc., etc.]... I'm sorry. We'll figure this out when I return..." So now, in addition to a missing parking light and smashed front bumper and a punched in back bumper, Treasure sported evenly distributed silver smears across his opposite front and side bumper. This gives him a more even-toned P.O.S.-car appearance. For that, at least, we can be grateful. I never have been a fan of asymmetry.

August 12th, 2006. By the light of the moon: Treasure sat, unperturbed although now visibly scarred from every angle. My little trooper had been run through the mill not once, not twice, but thrice in just a few short months. He chugged and chortled every now and then, but never a complaint, save for the incessant "DING DING DING DING DING" of the "your keys are in the ignition and your door is open" song, regardless of whether the keys are actually in the ignition, or miles away. But this night he sat, thoughtful and grateful to be resting after a late treck to King Sooper's to get me some popsicles for a killer sore throat.
I returned to him the next evening to find his insides all amuck. Glove compartment and console hastily ripped open, objects askew, sunblocking shield carelessly shoved aside, key hole clearly fidgeted with, and last but certainly the LEAST acceptable atrocity - stereo face missing. Just the face, mind you. Treasure's stereo still sits comfortably in its little nook below the temperature dials, but its face is missing, making it impossible to turn on and/or listen to any form of music. Treasure LOVES music. I'm thinking of faxing in a photo of my JVC CD stereo faceplate to the milk-carton makers. That stereo face was like a nanny to Treasure, and he's depleted and grumbly as ever these days...

... [extended pause for blog-reader mourning] ...*

That certainly wasn't the celebration of life-with-Treasure I'd hoped for. But I have one small bit of hope yet to share. Today I took Treasure in for his regular oil change. I threw in a tire rotation just to make him feel spiffier, and I think it may have worked. No bad reports from Rob the angry, disheveled Midas employee, either. Usually he tells me it's a lost cause and I'd be better off with a newer, younger car.** But you know what they say: "One person's junk may be another person's Treasure."

Happy Anniversary, my smashed and violated sweet little ride.

*I use ellipses all the time. They're, like, the perfect pause ... in written form ... See?

**Shamelessly stolen from Dane Cook's "Retaliation," only I substituted "crowd" with "car."

You thought you'd seen the last of me, eh? EH???*

2006-08-29T11:08:00.000+05:30

I've been debating making this blog a regular thing for a while now. I'm still debating it; we'll call this a test run. So ... how are things ... Right, I forgot you don't get a response from this unless you have friends who actually read your blog. I'll have to work on that.

Right now I'm in the bowels of one of life's transitional phases. Some call it the transition into "the real world." I'm going with quarter-life crisis. Join me on this adventure of sorts and we'll all get through this together. I promise. Not really, though; I can't promise something like that.

I'm currently awaiting word from a job I applied for that I'd truly love, hence my current state of unsuredness. Ah, and I left my heart in San Fran Europe. If anyone wants to go back, and you're willing to foot the bill, I am SO with you! But my oh my, I do miss it. On top of that, I'm in this mopey state of melancholy because I'm caught between a feeling of desire to return to my homeland 'o' lakes to re-instate myself as a local member of the Thiegs family, a feeling of anticipation to venture on to Chicago and be that city girl who walks down Michigan Ave in a stately manner wearing pointy-toed shoes and a sharp-looking suit, and a feeling of security at the prospect of staying here with my sweetie where the mountains beckon and the air is ... dry. Really dry.

They aren't easy to gather, these thoughts of mine.

On a lighter note, my beau pulled my hair with his toes last night. It was unintentional, I'm sure, because he was asleep. I was, too - until I woke up to my hair being pulled. Why his feet were where his head should have been is beyond me, but he says I yelled at him at some point for taking up too much room, which would logically lead to a 180 degree turn around. Then there's the potent question of why his unconscious mind decided to send its feet on a headhunt, quite literally. I'm thinking it's a tumbled mix of pent-up aggression with kinky undertones. Enough of that, now. This is too adult, even for me.

*I say "eh" a lot. It's not really intentional, and it's mostly in written form that I'm drawn to it. It may or may not be attributed to the fact that I'm from Minnesota, land 'o' long, drawn-out "A"-sounds. Either way- sorry if it annoys. It's just who I am, eh?

06.20.06- Ring of Kerry

2006-06-21T03:55:00.000+05:30

Bus tours are the best. Today I took a 12-hour one from Cork all the way around the Ring of Kerry, which is all along this big peninsula on the West coast. Needless to say, it rocked my pants off. Except after this morning, I'm taking care to watch my pants very closely. See previous blog if you're confused right now.

The Ring of Kerry is stunning. Ireland is fantastic. Green. It's just SO MUCH GREENERY! It crawls across every stone, drapes itself off cliffs, clings to tree trunks, taking over the landscape and invading every crevice it can. Much of it looks tropical, especially with the ocean backdrop. But with the constant precipitation I've experienced here, save for tonight's breathtaking misty sunset, it's no wonder you couldn't start a forrest fire here if you brought in a dragon (which, by the way, would fit right in with the scenery).

Ireland is the perfect place for loners. With the gray and the mist and the drizzly rain, it's so fitting to go with that "I'm by myself" mood that it's almost like having a companion. Maybe that sounds depressing, but it's quite the opposite. It's relaxing and peaceful. Except when someone steals your pants.

Tomorrow I fly to London and then home on Thursday. I can't wait! So ready for home and people who know my name! And so ready to not have my pants taken in the wee hours of the morning. (still so confused by that).

06.20.06 - Cork, where the beer flows like tap water ... if not more

2006-06-21T03:40:00.000+05:30

Somebody stole my pants today. It's true. I woke up, and no pants. Gone. I thought that odd, considering everything else was left untouched under my bed. The weird thing is I actually got them back. It's a fun story full of adventure, and I'll share it with you now from the beginning.

8:00 a.m. Wake up. Pants are not where I left them. Concern arises.
8:15 a.m. I go downstairs in my p.j.s to reception to switch out my key card, which we have to do every morning before 10 for security purposes.
"Hi. Um, I would like to switch out my keycard. But I can't offer you my old one, because somebody stole my PANTS this morning."
The hostel manager gives me a strange look and then chuckles and asks what room I'm in.
I tell him, and he tells me the 3 girls that were also in there who left are actually currently down the street eating breakfast at a cafe. He informs me I might be able to catch them if I hurry.
8:17 a.m. Debbie exits Bru Bar Hostel in pajamas and walks down the street in the rain to said breakfast joint. I find who I think might be the girls I'm looking for.
Me: "Um, hello. Were you by chance in room 208 last night?"
Girl 1: yeah ...
Me: You took my pants.
Girl 1: Oh ... those were yours?!
8:20 a.m. Girl 1 tells her friends they all, apparantly together, took my jeans from the room this morning thinking they were the pants of a friend of theirs who lives about 5 minutes away. They had already been to that friend's house to drop them off. What? WHAT?! Confusion remains strong.
8:30 a.m. I walk back to the hostel in rain and p.j.s and get ready/await the re-arrival of my freakin' pants.
8:40 a.m. Pants arrive back at hostel. I go to reception to retrieve them. Hostel manager gives me my pants and says "Next time don't drink so much." Now I'm not denying any charges about drinking too much, but from the very Irishman who kept telling me to be sure to stop back at the bar? Anyways, I have my pants now.

06.18.06 - Debbie Does Dingle

2006-06-19T01:07:00.000+05:30

The Irish do potatoes and they do them well. Today's lunch was a jacket potato with cheese. This is basically a baked potato with cheese that somehow is the best baked potato you've ever had (with the exception of maybe Famous Dave's).

I just got back from eating what I promised Dad I would: a yummy seafood dinner. It was fantastic!!! Wow, I discuss food a lot in these entries, huh? Well, I like it. I ate with 2 people from the U.S. who are biking Ireland. So cool! We found this pub by the sea with live Irish bands, and there I had my first Toucan Brew. For all you Guinness obsessors who are presently upset that I didn't have a Guinness Stout in its homeland, fear not. Toucan Brew is Guinness' rare and brand new product. It looks exactly the same, same frothy stuff, same color, but tastes a little lighter, which was great for me.

Tomorrow I head to Cork with Florian and the next day we're doing a tour of the Ring of Kerry. YAY!

06.18.06 - Ireland: home of red-heads, all known to Australians as "Blue-y"

2006-06-19T00:42:00.000+05:30

Last night I walked with Minke ("mink-a"), from the Netherlands, to watch a local game of Gaelic football, played only in Ireland. It seems to me to be a combination of soccer, basketball and football, with few rules and a lot of diehard fans. Players can pick up the ball, dribble it, kick it, throw it, do whatever they want. It's just ... confusing, but nothing in comparison with the accents here. I take back my statement about it being difficult to understand a Japanese person speaking English. Irish, believe it or not, can be much more tricky. For example, yesterday I asked my bus driver a question, and the only thing I caught in his response was the number six. Luckily that's all I needed to know!

After the game ended we walked in the rain to the fish wharf and watched the giant fishing boats come in from the mist and fog. After we got back to our cozy, warm hostel, I put my coat back on and did the exact same treck with a guy named Florian (how European, huh?) because he would have otherwise gone alone. But I didn't mind going back. We walked onto this straight and as we looked out into the now blackened water, we heard squeaking and saw 2 sets of beady black eyes shining up at us from a few feet away in the water. SEA OTTERS! Those little guys are adorable!!! I will attempt to lure one into my backpack and bring one home to show you all.

The rain here is so perfect. Ireland is incredibly green, and here on the coast the rain and mist makes the sea smell stronger and so refreshing. Without the sun, the water during the day is a deep, dark turquoise I've never seen before; It's kind of mezmerizing. But this rain is the first precipitation I've seen (aside from a light sprinkle in Marseilles) since I left London. It welcomed me to Europe and now it is seeing me off!

This morning I went to Mass in Dingle's bigger church. It was half in English and half in Irish tongue, which sounds like this: obbly sd;lkj aeoiusr raelkuavve aewoiusr. But this was no ordinary Mass, even though it was the regularly scheduled Sunday service. It was also a funeral. I guess it's not uncommon for the funeral ceremony to just happen at regular Sunday Mass. I sat next to a woman named Kay Smith from something or other, Blackrock, Ireland (all you LOST watchers are a little taken aback, aren't you? I was!). So I asked Kay how the man in the casket died and she responded with, "Don't you even worry; Don't you even think about it. You're too young to worry." She was an extroardinarily kind woman who later asked me to pray for her and the man in the casket (she didn't know him either), and I happily did.
The funeral was very sad, though. Michael O'-something's grandson sang a beautiful Celtic hymn, and another grandson delivered an Irish poem he'd written for him. Another relative gave a touching Eulogy, switching from Irish to English so that all could understand. Don't be fooled by the stereotypes of Irish funerals. It is a celebration of a life well-lived, yes, but it is also a very difficult one. As family filed down the aisle carrying their deceased, I watched them tremble in an effort to remain strong for the procession.
They were met at the end of the church by many little boys and girls waiting in beautiful white dresses and suits. These kids received their First Communion exactly one month ago, and in Ireland (maybe just Dingle?) it is tradition that they proceed through the streets of town to the church, collecting candy and trinkets along the way.
Again I saw that contrast similar to Dachau but much lighter. There were in the church those dressed in black for the funeral, and among them were children in pure white. With every end, it seems, comes many new beginnings.

06.17.06 - Dingle bell rock

2006-06-19T00:35:00.000+05:30

Driving from Shannon to Dingle was for most an annoying 4-hour trip but a treat for me. I chatted with a friendly Canadian who gave me 2 Canadian pins and talked about everything from Malaysian food to transexuals, and then I got to watch the Irish landscape pass by. SO green and dotted with sheep, horses and cows. We passed by Bogview Hostel, which I am happy to say is not where I'll be sleeping. It's not that bogs are bad, it's just that in Ireland I'm liking the idea of staying somewhere with views of ... not bogs.

I had also hoped for an authentic Irish lunch, but due to the inefficiency of bus schedules I had to settle for a ham, cheese and coleslaw sandwich. Yeah, I thought it strange, too.

They paint their sheep here, which I thought was pretty odd but after thinking about it I've deduced it has something to do with how ready they are for shearing. But the tourist in me gets a little sad when the picturesque white sheep against the backdrop of the lush and stunning green hills of Ireland is now red, white and blue --- even if I am American.

I am UPSET!

2006-06-17T23:36:00.000+05:30

I have been so thrilled about not having seen all the corporate chains (except fast food) I'm accustomed to in the U.S. in every town. I even had just had a conversation with someone about it, saying "Isn't it great not to have seen any Wal-Marts the whole trip?" Then on the very next bus I took into Frankfurt we pass by an Ikea, a Toys 'R' Us and a freaking Wal-Mart SuperCenter!!! I am angry! No, okay I'm not that upset. Actually I'm real cozy in this tiny village outside the Frankfurt Hahn Airport where I will fly into Ireland tomorrow. This part of Germany is gorgeous! And I get a loft bed in a room with a steep sloping roof and that makes me very content. Plus, the whole room is to myself, which is always an unexpected treat.

I'll miss Germany and its little old men in lederhausen and its delicious giant pretzels. I had the greatest conversations on the train today, too. One was with a middle-aged man who taught me all about the landscape as we passed by, and another was with a guy my age who is going to law school and therefore enjoys discussing deeply intellectual things. I was all for it. His impression of Americans wasn't really great and he was definitely surprised at my ability to dish out a bit of "intellitalk," if you will. Yeah, I just coined that. Maybe I'll patent it.

Besides the train talks with other Europeans, I've learned quite a bit about people and places in the U.S. on this trip, too, surprisingly. In the last 3 days I have run into 11 Mormons from the U.S. Super nice people! The best part of this experience was when I was hanging out with these 6 Mormon girls from Arizona. They're all really pretty, so naturally there were lots of guys trying to get them to come out and party. The look on boys' faces when they are told by 6 hot American girls that they've never had a drop of alcohol in their life is priceless. Hilarious, really.

06.17.06, Buh-bye German beer!

2006-06-17T23:23:00.000+05:30

Interesting parts of Munich/Germany:
-Cute old men in lederhausen
-The spot where Hitler's statue once stood. All that passed were required to stop and heil. Those that avoided the street instead took "Dodger's Alley," which guards eventually discovered and tried to catch and punish the dodgers. If they were found to be Jewish or have some other controversial connection they could be sent to a concentration camp. Today, in memorial there is a path of gold-painted bricks down Dodger's Alley, but no plaque explaining what it is or why it's there. It's interesting how very little is addressed around town considering the enormity of what occured in Munich, for example the planning of Kristallnacht, or Hitler's first big speech initiating the Nazi party. Today it is illegal to make the heiling motion or draw swastikas in Germany.
-"Buttermilch Aloe Vera" ice cream. What? Are they serious!?
-Bratwursts and beer!!!
-World Cup fans: intense and hilarious
-white asparagus. It looks albino.
-Any weight I may have lost along this trip has found me again in Germany. Damn pretzels.
-The toilet paper is not pink here like it is in France, but the soap almost always is. Gross fact: In the famed Hofbrauhaus they used to have no bathrooms. But they did have gutters underneath the tables ... Remember the comment I made on asparagus? Yeah, Germans eat a lot of that. GROSS.

06.15.06, Dachau

2006-06-17T23:11:00.000+05:30

In a small town outside of Munich the poplar trees stand tall and green. Birds chirp, the air is sweet and warm and red clay-roofed homes rest happily on a quiet street. Behind the houses is a fence that only hints at the intense contrast that lies beyond it. Rusted barbs give way to the white gravel that coats the grounds and feet inside Dachau like the ashes of prisoners not so long ago lost. This place haunted me more than I expected, maybe because I am alone and emotions aren't so held back, but I had a hard time here.

A wrought iron gate with a message in German that translates to "work makes you free" is where I entered Dachau, and it was also the last profoundly false statement many of its prisoners saw before leaving freedom forever. Dachau's grounds give clear and vivid images of cruelty and lies, such as the gas chamber with its entrance still reading "Brausebad," or "showers."

The lump in my throat remained the entire visit and after, and thinking of what occured where I walked today makes me shudder with confusion and disgust. The contrasts between the peaceful calm and serenity just outside and even inside the barbed fences was intense, but what truly made me sick was seeing how "new" everything is. I guess I kid myself when I think of the Holocaust as long gone history. But walking through the prisoners' barracks and flicking the same light switches the guards there flicked, and recognizing the smell of the wood that makes up the desks and doors as being about as old as that at the cabin made it hit home. Pictures don't have nearly the effect on me as did the reality and physicality of this place.

Dachau's motto is "Never again." Isn't it incredible to think that still even some who live just outside its walls believe it never was?

Visions of soccerballs dance in my head

2006-06-15T22:00:00.000+05:30

See, now I'm happy again because I got to make friends! And Happy Birthday, Becky!
Last night was an incredible and once-in-a-blue-moon experience! I went to Munich's old Olympic Stadium with some girls I met from Cali, and we watched (with thousands of crazed fans) 2 World Cup games, one of which was actually happening less than a mile away between Lithuania and Saudi Arabia, and the other which was Germany vs. Poland! It was a BLAST. Big beers, big pretzels, big crowds and crazy German people hopped up on adrenaline and liquor... what every girl dreams of. Just kidding. But it really was a blast. I even got a victory kiss when Germany won the game with just one minute left. The subway home was an adventure in itself. German victory songs, fight songs, flags, painted faces (mine included!) and an overall jolly German time that later spilled onto the streets until all hours of the morning. I thank God they didn't lose.

This morning I took a walking tour of Munich and it was really a good one. My favorite line from our guide while we waited outside the church and people-watched is this: "I love children. They're just like little drunken midgets. They are! Aren't they, though?" After pondering this, I agree. They are.

Munich is neat. Nice work, guys.

2006-06-15T21:58:00.000+05:30

06.14.06

Another beautiful day and I am feeling anxious and nervous because it's the first day in a new city and I'm never really good with those. Munich is beautiful, but I have seen very little of it. That's all for now!