theraflu is magic

There's nothing worse than being up all night with a horrible cold/cough/aches/ickyness. Thankfully Theraflu knocked me on my ass last night and I didn't even wake up one teeny time.

I was able to fall asleep despite each raspy breath drawn in through a raw throat threatening rebellion at each intake. I woke up with a clogged throat/chest waiting to unleash hellish, racking coughs. Which I fully expected. I just also expected to be horribly tired from lack of sleep due to above mentioned horribleness.

In this so sad day and age where the new, 'improved' NyQuil reigns no more (thanks to those snaggle-toothed meth addicts), it's nice to know Theraflu is out there waiting to put me out of my misery, if only for a night.

yet another subset of st. louis i never knew existed

Last night, after our bi-monthly meeting, the girls in my writing group and I went to check out an open mic night hosted by the St. Louis Writers' Guild. It happened to be held at a bar literally feet away from where we usually meet in South City, so we figured what the heck?

It was...interesting. To say the least. It was apparently their 'loudmouth' version of open mic night, which means pretty much anything goes. And go it did last night. It started off with an awkward poet who left a lot to be desired. Bless his heart, he got up there and read his stuff, which takes a lot of guts, but whew. Not a great start. It only picked up from there, though. The next guy apparently is practicing to be a stand up comic, so between his routine he read a vulgar poem of sorts about vagina shortening (the procedure, not a spray-on-Pam type of sex toy, as he explained). He had his moments, but he definitely thought he was a lot funnier than he was.

He was followed by both poets and short story writers, as well as a novelist, reading a chapter from her work-in-progress. It was a small crowd, so we were accosted from the beginning about whether we were there to read. We politely declined. We had to case the joint first.

We sat at a table in back with another first-timer, a very pleasant PhD student who moved here in July. During break a seasoned poet, and quite the character, came to scope us out and get our story. I can honestly say I've never met anyone quite like him. He's been published in 45 magazines, looked like a beatnick, and had traveled all over the world. Yes, we learned all of this within the span of 5 minutes. Then, one of the organizers, a sweet older man, came over to apologize for the resident 'comedian' and his tomfooleries. We were instantly taken by him - he was so darn pleasant, and had a sense of humor to boot. There seemed to be such camaraderie amongst these folks, it was really comforting. I definitely felt as though I could have read there and been wholly accepted, whether I was good or not. And believe me, there was some talent there, both in poetry and fiction. One girl wrote a story so darn funny at one point I was wiping tears from my eyes. That's serious.

As we got up to leave they thanked us for coming, and made us promise to read the next time we attended. If we attend again, that is. I think we all enjoyed it. Enough to get up and read our work? Only time will tell.

open letter to earth

Hey earth? You're killing me right now. First of all, the weather is hot as h-e-double hockey sticks. 90s in late September? Come on. There better be some really good weather in store to make up for this bullshit. It better not be in the 50s next week for highs.

And about this time change thing. Boy do I love me some daylight savings time. When it rolls around in the spring I'm happy as a pig in shit (and they shit a lot, by the way). It's the start of something great - longer days, sunny weather, warmth - it's beautiful. I tolerate it in the fall as it means the beginning of winter, which I love in a very different way. I'm like a small child when it snows (or even threatens to snow) - very excited. I like warm clothes, fat comforters, slippers, and cozy blankets, not to mention chili, roasts, and hot soup. Mmmmmmmm.

However, what the fuck is happening in the sky right now? It's pitch black when I get up in the morning. Is this some sort of joke? How can I get up and get ready for work when it still seems like the middle of the night? Even my dog looks at me like I'm an evil axe murderer when I go in her room (yes she has her own room) and turn on the light so I can get clothes (yes my clothes are in the dog's room...that's what happens when you have too many clothes). Small children are walking to school in the dark. What if the evil sex offender living down the street that my internets tells me about snags them right from the sidewalk? How could you let that happen?

Mostly though I'm complaining at the incredible sadness that occurs when my alarm goes off in the pitch blackness. And now I have to wait until November for that to change. I cannot deal with this for another month and a half.

Earth, why you gotta be so cruel?

being all outdoorsy

Whew. Camping this past weekend was a blast. We, along with ten other people or so, went up to a friend's parents' house near Mark Twain Lake. They've got a huge house with a ton of property, and were nice enough to let us all camp in their yard. It's amazing up there. The weather was incredible, which helped, but seriously, their place blew my mind. It's exactly what I want (trade the huge house for a modest one - let's be realistic). They've got a pond, land rented out to a farmer (currently soybeans are planted), and a fantastic garden. They get up every morning and go fishing out on Mark Twain Lake then spend the rest of the day moseying about in their sweet five-wheeler (similar to the one below).

How cool is that? They can hunt and fish, and she grows everything from peppers to pumpkins to huge zucchinis, even hops (for our friend's homebrew). Man, did it stir up that part of me who wants that life more than anything. Of course, I'd have to have some cows, chickens, and goats with all of that land. Deeelicious.

It also reminded me that I want to learn how to deer hunt. Crazy, I know. If I would have told my 18 year old self (hell, even my 25 year old self) that I'd be thinking of hunting deer at age 30, they would have probably passed out from shock. The only drawback is that to get a permit one has to take a MO Dept of Conservation class. It's either 3 weeknights or two full weekend days. So, that requires (1) me remembering to sit down with the hub (who also wants to learn to hunt) (2) pulling out the laptop and a list of classes (3) managing to find classes that can squeeze into our busy lives this time of year (4) signing up for said classes.

That's a lot of steps.

But, we're running out of time. Gun season starts in November. And not only do we have to get permits, but I have to learn to shoot a gun. I've only done it once. Luckily I gots lots of friends who hunt. Mostly I want to do this for the meat, not because I like stalking and killing things. Though I might. One never knows until one tries. This could open up a very scary can of worms.

I envision this not happening until next year. We'll see.

ramblings

I'm having trouble finding an excuse to write - anything, really. I can't think of anything to write here, and certainly can't seem to make myself write any fiction at all. The rest of my writing group feels the same way - or at least they did. We've been AWOL for a few months now. Perhaps it's the nice weather, and having too many things to do outside. I don't know. It's weird. I definitely think about writing, I just can't seem to make myself do it. Hopefully that will change. I'm having thoughts of starting a novel again, though it didn't get me far on my last attempt. One of these days it will click. Just have to keep plugging along.

The weather has cooled off. I love it. It's finally time to open the windows. I'm sure my dog is hating life right now (she acts as though we're killing her if the temperature in the house is even one degree warmer than usual), but it's just too nice at night. We're camping with a group of friends (new friends, must be on best behavior - yeah right) this weekend, and it's supposed to dip down into the lower forties. That's the best camping weather ever. And supposedly they'll have a huge bonfire, so that will be perfect.

The hub and I are completely obsessed with Deadwood as of late. We're watching the series from the beginning from Netflix. I like it this way - we don't have cable (read: we're too cheap), so instead of waiting week to week for a new episode, we can inhale them as fast as the mailman can bring them. We're both fascinated with the West during that time period. The characters are so great and have incredible depth. I can't decide which I like best. We're still in the first season, and boy, I will be so sad when it's over. Maybe as sad as I was after watching the last Freaks & Geeks (oh Judd Apatow, how I love thee). I didn't think it was possible.

It's sunny, cloudless actually, and around 75 right now, and time cannot go slower. It's nearing in on go time though, and I can't wait to get outside. This time of year kills me. It's damn near impossible to sit here at work all day when the weather is this nice and stare out the window. One day I will not be stuck in an office all day, I'll be able to enjoy this whenever I want. One day...

what I'm drinking (and it's not beer...for once)

I'm currently drinking the Green Dragon variety of Honest Tea...green tea with passion fruit.* It's delicious. Thanks to CB & V, who are addicts themselves, I've turned into a gigantic iced tea addict. I've always been on good terms with tea, but it's gone to a whole new level - to the point of actually wondering whether I'm overdoing it on the green tea little bit (this is apparently possible).

On the flip side, I'm drinking WAY less soda. In fact, the last soda I remember having was this past weekend - Dr. Pepper obtained from Taco Bell along with my three bean (no meat!) tacos. I've even taken to drinking tea when we go out to eat as opposed to soda (other than the previously mentioned Dr. Pepper - it was to mix with rum). I've been trying to kick the soda habit for a while now. The diet varieties just don't fit into my no-artificial-sweetner kick, and regular soda is chock full of calories and high fructose corn syrup (another thing I'm trying to avoid).

Folks who know me will understand how big a deal this is. I've been a soda addict for as long as I can remember. In college, my roomie (and new mom! hi!) Hammertime and I existed on soda (close your eyes mom and dad - and alcohol). Water was not in our vocabulary. We'd even trade in our leftover meal plan points for twelve packs. The past few years or so I've tried to limit myself to one a day, which was pretty good.

So I'm happy I've found a beverage to replace soda. I like it almost as much! And the best part is that I like it unsweetened (not that I will discriminate against sweetened). It's good for you, and low in calories. Perfect. And so refreshing. I like to brew my own iced green tea with a sprig of fresh mint from the yard. Mmmmmmm.

*Yes, I am strangely obsessed with beverages of any kind. See the previous entry. It's a running joke between the hub and I - when we go to the store, we laugh about how much of our final cart is full of beverages. It's seriously not right.

get you some

A new batch of funny searches that brought people to my blog:

'ikea arkansas'

'camping pee'

'throwing up at mcdonalds drive thru'

'greyhound throws up food'

'does ikea really care' (take your best guess, guy)

'drunk peeing camping'

'haven't thrown up in years'

and the winner:

'throw up work out' (I can only imagine what else came up with this search. Get it? Came up? Wow, I have too much time on my hands.)

On the life front, I know it's getting to be fall because of the arrival of:

O'Fallon's Pumpkin Ale! Yay. Go out and get some. You won't be disappointed. I am going to get another 6 pack tonight because the summer beer, Wheach, sold out really fast, and I don't want to miss out.

this may turn your stomach...

How lovely. Tyson agreed to stop using carbon monoxide in its packaged meats. Hooray for Tyson!

Am I supposed to be glad about this? Instead of feeling glad I'm even more freaked out at the prospect of buying meat in a conventional grocery store. If companies are resorting to this type of thing, what else are they doing?

When food has to be shipped across the country (across the globe, in some cases...eek), companies resort to doing all they can to keep it fresh - or make it appear fresh. This is but one of the reasons I decided to only buy/consume meat if it comes from local farmers, not huge farm conglomerates like Tyson. Firstly, it comes straight from the animal to me, only traveling a hundred miles at most. Secondly, I am more apt to trust a local farmer on how he's raised and fed the animals than the factory farms, who are in this solely for the money, and as we see above, will literally do anything to increase the bottom line. Thirdly, it just plain tastes better, and I can be happy about supporting my local farmers.

Sheesh, though, I guess this could be considered a big step for Tyson. What's next? They stop shearing off chickens' beaks so they can't peck each other to death while crammed into small cages? They stop giving them feed found to contain arsenic, ammonia, and other chemicals? Wow. That's a whole lot to ask.

Man. Eating chicken is so not worth it.

guinness - magic ingredient

I made Guinness ice cream this weekend. It's amazingly good. It's made with Guinness, of course, molasses, and the regular ice cream ingredients. Highly recommended. I was telling a guy here at work about it, and he said the best ice creams are made with molasses, and I believe it.

I got the recipe from this site. She used the ice cream in a float with Harp - aka a black and tan, only with Guinness ice cream as opposed to Guinness itself. I haven't tried this, but it also sounds delicious.

So we're up to two things I make with Guinness - beef roast and ice cream. Both are very good. Can cooking with Guinness be wrong, I wonder? I think not.

for we're a jolly good fellow...

The hub-unit this morning called me to tell he he'd just realized the date - 8-23. Ten years ago today we had our first date. Or no, maybe it was ten years ago today that we first kissed. I say 'we', but really it was me planting myself on him. Probably by surprise, albeit a good surprise. Boy was shy. Yes, we kissed first before our first 'official' date. It was college. That kind of thing was commonplace. We went to see Money Talks with Chris Tucker. Again, it was college. You have to forgive the bad taste. I'm sure we hung out afterwards, but I don't remember that part. Sorry, honey - you know I have a bad memory. It's a miracle I even remember the movie.

I knew the big 10 was coming up. It's kind of mind boggling - like when you try to think about death, and your brain gets all murky and your head spins. I've been with the same person for ten years. I haven't been on a date with anyone else (well there was that one guy, but that didn't count, and the hub (boyfriend then) knew about it), haven't kissed anyone else (well, there was that one guy...just kidding! ha ha), haven't really even thought about anyone else in ten years. That's insane.

The best part is that it doesn't feel weird at all. In ten years we've had really only one big blowup fight, and that was barely a fight - we never yell and scream. We just get along so darn well. Best friends, really. I know, sick, stop, you're making us gag. I'm proud, that's all.

Here's to another ten! Maybe more, if the hub continues to behave himself.

no further commentary necessary

Here's a great comment from R. L. White of the NAACP:


'White also said he didn't understand the uproar over dogfighting, when hunting deer and other animals is perfectly acceptable.'



He uttered these genius words while explaning why the NFL shouldn't ban Michael Vick. Dear readers, I will spare you my assesment of this comment. I won't insult your intelligence. I myself have never hunted in my life, and I understand the difference between hunting and dogfighting. So he can't use that excuse.



Throw that nasty dog abuser in jail, already.

sweet justice

I saw something at lunch today that totally made my day. I went to Schnucks (after not finding onion soup mix at Wild Oats - grrr) on what could arguably be the hottest day of the year, walking to my car parked at the very back of the lot under a tree (this lot, unlike most in St. Louis, actually does have a tree or two). I see a big old nasty Mercedes SUV parked in the fire lane, and a cop pull up behind it and turn on his lights. The siren made a little blip - that's why I noticed it.

I finally made it to my car, hot and sweaty, feet sore from high heeled stilettos. I was pulling down the lane when I saw the cop finish up the ticket and walk towards the empty SUV. I was then lucky enough to see a woman hurry out of Schnucks towards the SUV clutching a bottle of water (side note - plastic). The cop handed her the ticket, and to her credit, she didn't appear to argue much, just took it and went. I gave the cop a round of applause (is it called that when you're alone?) and smiled bigger than life.

Why was she so special to get to park in the fire lane? Does she assume the rest of us like parking far away and hoofing it on a hot day? I went in there for one thing, just like her, but I did it the right way. Stinky bitch. First of all, you shouldn't park in the fire lane. But come on - if you're going to do it, don't be gone long enough for a cop to finish writing out a ticket. I've yet to encounter one who did it quickly. If you don't want to get out of your overpriced box on wheels, go through the McDonald's drive thru. I hear they've got a pool-sized soft drink for $.89 - what a value!

the lake

The lake was a blast. CB & V joined us for the entire time (and also joined us in a near-death canoeing experience, which was something, let me tell you), and N8 & MT came down for a day or two. It was so wonderful and relaxing. I tell you, there's not much better than spending your entire day relaxing on the water, coming home and grilling, and sitting around playing games the rest of the night. I need that kind of life. All this traffic, and rushing around to be places on time is for the birds. Work? Who needs it? I find myself growing more and more intolerant of these things.

I know, I know, you're saying 'But Norma Jean, you have to work! It's a part of life. In order to get the good things later on you have to put your time in now.'

And to that I say oh hell no. I say this hustle and bustle just isn't worth it. Why should I spend a good chunk of my life working for someone else, at a place I don't really care about? I mean it's a great company, and they're all great people, but let's face it, it's just not all that interesting. Spending 8 hours a day taking orders from other people and doing work for other people is not all it's cracked up to be. Shocking, I know. Don't get me wrong. They give orders in the nicest of ways. I know I'm treated well, very well, and the perks are amazing. I definitely know and appreciate that.

I've just come to the conclusion that this type of work just isn't for me. I don't like it. I don't like having to be somewhere for 8 hours a day if I have 2 hours of work. It's ridiculous. It's the system. Not everyone can be trusted on the honors system, so we all have to suffer. Why should I be here for 8 hours a day with 2 hours of work and not be allowed to surf the internet (you can see how much merit I give to that rule)? What the hell am I supposed to do? I know, help others. Find out what I can do to help. The tricky part is that my bosses pay me, not the company. So if I help the company I'm doing work for them while my bosses pay the price. Blah. I'm sick of thinking about it, and I'm sure you're sick of reading about it. All I know is that soon I'm going to cross the threshold of inability to keep these thoughts to myself at work, of inability to act as though I'm happy and satisfied, and that I give a crap about what we're doing (mom, dad, and moo excepted, of course).

Anyway, what I'm really trying to say is that we had a blast at the cabin, and coming from a week of spending wonderful, relaxing, quality time with my loved ones to work really sucks.

off to the lake

This afternoon we're off to our annual Fourth of July party at the cabin on Bull Shoals Lake. I've seriously been looking forward to this trip for months now. This year there are six of us going - the usual co-conspirators V & CB, and first-timers N8 & MT. My sis Cootie and her hubby might join us later on as we're going to be there through Sunday.

Doesn't it look amazing? It's the most gorgeous lake I've ever seen, which isn't saying much since I'm not a big lake fan. In fact I usually won't swim in a lake, but Bull Shoals is different. It's crystal clear, and clean, and refreshing. Not muddy at all.

So beginning tonight we'll be spending our days lounging on the lake, drinking beer, eating barbecue, and repeating. Delicious. And it'll be so great so share this with N8 & MT, who I'm sure will suffer 'lake addiction' once it's over just like the rest of us.

party like it's your birfday

Yesterday was my birthday. Yes, the big 3-0. No, I don't feel any different (does anyone on any birthday?). My sisters and brother-in-law decided to fork my yard in the shape of a big '30' with an exclamation point, which was funny when I saw it the next morning. The neighbor kid across the street told Q the forks looked like graves. They did.

It was a nice day. I went to lunch with friends from work, got some nice gifts (including a gift cert to one of my favorite places, Square One), and, best of all, got to spend the afternoon/evening at the hospital while my sister underwent an emergency appendectomy. Karma for the forks/graves, perhaps?

I did get to go to dinner at a yummy Mexican place near the hospital and got a good margarita while we waited for her in recovery. So that was nice. It was funny - after she went to her room and was all drugged up and cottonmouth, balancing a barf tray on her chest, she said she wanted to hear about my birthday. I told her she was looking at it! Really though, I'm just glad she's okay. Word of warning - when your stomach feels like it's going to explode, go to the ER. It might be about to do just that.

As my mother said last night - at least it'll be a birthday I won't forget.

six years and beer

On Saturday Q and I celebrated our sixth wedding anniversary in true 'us' style. Before eating dinner at Kobe Japanese Grill in Westport (a tradition as this is where we ate the night of our wedding, though it was Robata's then) we went to tour the O'Fallon Brewery.

O'Fallon is a small microbrewery in, you guessed it, O'Fallon, Missouri. It's actually a small pre-fab building buried in some industrial park off the highway. But when you walk in the first thing that hits you is the smell of brewing beer...possibly one of the best smells in the entire world. The tour is actually given by one of the co-owners, Fran. She and her husband own the brewery and call themselves co-owners - so cute.

Anyway, you actually get to see how the beer is made, though Q and I already know a lot about that from brewing our own. But it's cool to see how a small brewery does the same thing we do on a larger scale, but not as mammoth as Anheuser Busch. Plus we got to ask questions, taste the malt, see how they bottle, and sample each of their beers plus a few seasonal beers. Yum. I highly recommend the pumpkin beer when it's available in September. I don't usually like pumpkin beers, but this one is subtle. When the beer hits your tongue you taste a bit of pumpkin, then after you swallow you're left with cinnamon. Delicious. And we got to talk to one of the brewers who explained the process of making cask ale, and told us their cask ale is available at the Iron Barley, one of our favorite restaurants. I can't wait to try it.

It was a lot of fun. I highly recommend going there and doing the tour. The Anheuser tour is fun, of course, and it's cool to see some of the insides of a huge brewery, but this one is so neat because you have the opportunity to really see and understand how beer is made and actually talk to the people who make it.

the horror

WARNING - IF YOU HAVEN'T SEEN BABEL, DON'T READ THIS - SPOILERS!!!

Q and I watched Babel last night. I was excited to see it, especially after it won so many awards. I should know better by now. What a horribly depressing and sad movie. It was well acted, I suppose, and well done, but crap - talk about getting smacked in the face left and right with sad. There wasn't a moment where I wasn't wondering what horrible thing was going to happen next, or that I could even sit and relax and watch the movie - I was tense the entire time.

I just don't find that enjoyable anymore. I don't handle very well movies that deal with such tragedy. To watch the Mexican woman in such pain over not being able to see the kids, kids she's probably had more of a hand in raising than their own parents, was borderline unbearable. I almost got up and walked out (of my own living room) during the scene in the police station. Not so bad on it's own, I suppose, but after she was forced to leave that adorable boy in tears and his sister half dead under a tree in the desert, it was too much.

And the little boy being killed in the desert. Shit. That was awful. I kept waiting for the police to shoot the youngest one as he surrendered. The movie did end on a somewhat positive note, I suppose, for the Asian and American families, but even so. Life for them will never be the same.

I think I have such a hard time with movies like this because they're so real. I somehow internalize what's happening, and it literally makes me sick to my stomach to imagine that happening to me or my loved ones. It's just too painful to watch. I wonder afterwards, why did I sit there for well over 2 hours feeling tense and depressed? I do that for 9 at work every day for the love. That's enough for me.

I know there's probably some deeper meaning that I missed, some political spin, but to be honest, I don't care to think about it any more than I already have. If only all movies could be as great as Knocked Up - oh Judd Apatow, how you've spoiled my movie and TV watching experiences.

my dad

Sunday is Father's day. In the spirit of the times, I decided to write about a few of my favorite memories of my dad.

My dad was the sole bread winner in our family, which meant he worked a lot. So the times we shared with him were special. My mom dealt with us (my little sister and I) all day long, so pawning us off on Dad on his day off was a welcome change for her I'm sure. I remember Dad taking us (me and Cootie) to Wet Willy's, the coolest water slides of all time. The slides still exist (though are horribly run down) in Fenton, right at the intersection of 141 and 44, on that huge hill above the Steak 'n Shake. There were three slides (or two? I can't remember), and you went down them on a raft of some sort, and it was most fun to see how much weight you could pack on the raft to go as fast as possible. We'd go down, get out, run up the countless stairs, and repeat over and over until our little bodies couldn't take it anymore. We loved it.

Dad took us first to Naugles, the old taco joint (which I think has subsequently morphed into Del Taco, but I could be wrong), which seems now like a bad idea (tacos then waterslides?), but we loved it. Mom doesn't eat mexican, so for Cootie and I this was a special treat. Then we'd head down to the park, pay our money, and slide like banshees. We'd take turns going alone, or going with Dad, or just us girls. Cootie and I would go first, then wait excitedly at the bottom for Dad to fly out of the slide like a bullet into the pool below, always with a huge smile on his face. I remember Cootie and I being so excited about the prospect of spending the day with Dad. We always had fun.

Another favorite memory is waiting for Dad to come home from work. Cootie and I would hear the garage door open, and we'd take our usual places just behind the utility room (or junk room, as we called it) door and wait. Dad would close the garage door, come in through the heavy outside door, and we'd wait for him to emerge from the junk room then shout 'Surprise!' He acted surprised every time. Of course he knew we'd be there, but that didn't matter. His reaction kept us doing it time and time again. I remember so well the feel and smell of his trademark suits against my cheek whenever we hugged him afterwards.

My dad is a special guy, and I hope he has a great day on Sunday.

thoughts on plastic

This is a picture of a sea turtle nearly cut in half by plastic. His body has literally grown around it. This is what's happening with our plastic products nowadays - they're wreaking havoc in the sea, on land, and everywhere, and not just to animals, but to us as well.

This is from a great article called 'Plastic Ocean' in Best Life Magazine. Plastic never goes away. Every ounce we manufacture is here to stay. And recycling doesn't even help much since only 3%-5% of plastic is ever recycled, and it's actually much cheaper to make new than to recycle it, and everyone knows our big companies are out to make a buck and not to worry about how they might impact the world.

And there's no telling how it effects our food and our bodies. Studies have linked it to cancer (I know, like everything else, even delicious barbecue char) and even the obesity epidemic. Scary.

So read this article and think about it when you're out shopping. When you make your next purchase take it without a bag. Even more importantly, think about it at the grocery. Think about all the foods that come packaged in plastic, and about what alternatives might exist. Think about the environmental footprint you want to leave behind. Get your produce without the plastic bag. Opt for paper at the check out line. It's actually easy to find products packaged without plastic if you take an extra minute to look, and I think you'll find these products usually are of better quality and taste better. It's worth spending an extra quarter or so.

Also consider what you put into your trash can. Could it someday cause a world of pain and suffering to an animal? Take the time to cut your milk rings, or six-pack rings. One thoughtless toss into the can could change the life of an animal forever. Or in the case of the ocean, can produce more plastic than plankton for the fish to eat. If we're all a tiny bit more aware of how our actions can impact the entire world it'd make a ton of difference.

I'll leave you with this last picture, taken by Gregg Segal, a man who has dedicated his life to spreading the word about what we're doing to our oceans and animals. Our seabirds are eating things like lighters, tampon applicators, and bottle caps, and each and every one of us is partly to blame.

a very long year and a half

CNN apparently has changed their site to include a banner that says 'CNN ELECTION CENTER 2008' across the top. Are they seriously going to leave that up for a year and a half? That's ridiculous. Talk about extreme overkill. I'll probably have to change my homepage now. It'll annoy me too much.

Q and I went to the Tower Grove Farmers' Market on Saturday. We got some yummy bratwursts and pork steaks. They were more than we'd spend at the store (if we actually bought meat at the store), but it was well worth it. Not only are we getting good quality, hormone free meat, but it's raised by local farmers. A win-win situation. They had lots of other great things too, like cheese, lots of different lettuces, and even bison. Very cool. We're definitely going to go back. And the new grocery store, Local Harvest, opens up on Friday, so I can't wait to go.

We also made another batch of beer, this time an English brown ale. It'll be ready just in time for our annual trip to the lake over the fourth. It's bubbling away, which it did with the second batch but not so much with the first, so here's to hoping it turns out good. I'm sure it will. Now if July 3rd would just hurry up and get here, that'd be great. A whole 4 days at the lake, not including drive time. Fantastic.

a church i'm on board with

The Church of Stop Shopping. Nice.

working for the weekend

Being at work this week so far is difficult. We went camping with V & CB this weekend and after having such a great time it's even more difficult than usual. I find myself staring out the window, wishing I was lounging in the sun in a camp chair holding an ice cold beer. Or splashing around in a spring-fed creek. Or playing a game of ladder golf. Or discussing the creepy guy in a nearby site laying around by himself in his tent wearing jeans and a button-down shirt and waiting for him to kidnap (adultnap?) us while we sleep.

We went to the Paddy Creek campground in the Mark Twain National Forest - twenty or so miles from Licking, MO. It's very remote, without even running water or cell phone signals, which was great - we had a huge campsite to ourselves so we could be as loud as we wanted (overruling Q's paranoia). The weather was picture-perfect. Not a cloud in the sky for three days straight - the most amazing blue sky framed by huge trees. The night sky looked like a planetarium there were so many stars. Days spent relaxing, chilling with friends, drinking good beer, eating great food, nothing to worry about - I could get used to that.


The funniest part of the weekend (there were many - there always are when the four of us get together) was attempting to hike what we thought was the Paddy Creek Trail, a mile or so hike to a good swimming spot in the creek (as opposed to the concrete bridge - well not really a bridge but a spot where the creek flowed over the road). We got a little ways in and the trail ended at the creek, but definitely not what I would describe as a good swimming spot. So instead of taking the trail back we decided to wade the river back to the bridge. We had Chay with us. Chay's not afraid of getting wet (she'd already plopped herself down in the creek by this time to cool off), but wasn't especially happy about trudging through the water and kept trying to take off for dry land. But she kept going like a trooper. There were a few deeper sections that went to my waist that Chay wasn't able to navigate, so Q picked her up which was a feat unto itself - she does not like being picked up and hadn't ever let us do it. She put up with this twice, then put her foot down - no more. So Q had no choice but to lead her in and see if she would swim.

We've never seen her swim before, and weren't sure she could even do it. Greyhounds are so big and lanky. Some can swim, but some can't. Chay's been in the water, even up to her neck, but that's it. Her instincts took over and she swam like a pro. She made it to a part where she could stand, and stand she did, with her head held high. She totally knew she'd done something new, and was so very proud. Chay swimming is darned adorable with her pointy nose poking high out of the water. Such a cutie. We finally made it back to the bridge where we lounged around for a few hours like complete hoosiers. Letting our true colors shine through. Chay was toast the rest of the day after her little ordeal. I'm curious to see whether she'll try it again this summer at the lake.

Another interesting moment was waking up the first morning and not finding Chay's metal food bowl that I'd put a secure lid on the night before. After asking everyone if they'd put it away, we determined it'd been stolen by an animal. Yum. And animals getting into the trash cans across the way. Can't blame 'em for wanting a tasty treat, I suppose. As long as I'm not the tasty treat I'm good with it. Have at it.

I've got to find some way to live in an amazing, secluded place without a job - at least not a corporate job. Anyone? Ideas? I'm feeling an odd need to reconnect with nature and give up most of my worldly belongings including but not limited to pantyhose and heels. Early mid life crisis perhaps?

blink an eye and they fly II

It seems the frequency of my posting correlates directly with my workload here at the good ol' 9-5. Or 8-5. Whatever happened to 9-5, anyway? Dolly? Seriously, I think I've had maybe five substantial things to do this entire week. Come on. I like the internets as much as the next person, and am constantly amazed by the fantastic content out there like this site (good for at least a daily cackle), there's only so much aimless surfing one can do.

Yesterday was the 2 year anniversary of the death of my friend, Shorty. Do you call it that? An anniversary? I guess, even though it seems kind of weird. To me 'anniversary' evokes good feelings. How about death day? Like 'yesterday was Shorty's death day?' I suppose there's no good way to say it. It's awkward no matter what.

Kind of like figuring out what to get to put on her grave. Flowers? They seem so cheesy, and Shorty wasn't a flower kind of girl. Plus the crappy Snoocks I went to didn't have a great selection. The cheapest ones were over $6. Somehow spending that on something that will sit and die on Shorty's grave didn't seem right to my frugal (that's one way to say it) self. So I opted for a small potted plant. It had reddish leaves and big red blooms. Not flowers, more like a cone shaped thingy. A botanist I am not. This one set me back $2. Much better. And it'll probably last a lot longer than flowers.

The awkwardness followed me again to the cemetery. This time I found her grave without much trouble, unlike the past few times (once I had to get someone from the cemetery to help me - seriously awkward. Apparently I'd made a mental note the last time that it sat under a small tree, and there it was. It was just like last time. The little dog was still there, looking a bit worse for the wear. Stuffed animals + outside elements = not a great combo. There were some fake flowers in the little vase on her headstone, and a bunch of red roses that had been there for some time. They were one step away from being reclaimed by the earth.

It was a beautiful day. To push away the awkwardness, I set to work arranging her things on the headstone. I brushed off errant leaves and whatnot, and cleaned the grass sprayed by a mower off of the vase. I got a pen from my purse to write 'Miss you Shorty' on the flowerpot. I took a couple of pictures (morbid, yes, but the light and angle were perfect to capture her last name, the flowerpot, the vase with fake flowers, and the dog keeping guard beneath it). Then I ran out of things to do. What does one do at a cemetery? It's weird. I felt like a tool standing there, so I sat down for a while. The sun was nice. The day was very similar to her last death day (yes, that's better, feels more natural). I thought about what we used to do on these days back in college, and sent good thoughts out to her, wherever she is.

Then I got back in the car and listened to Terri Gross on NPR interview Alice Cooper. Great interview. He's quite a guy.

dilemma

I have to make a tough decision. There are two things going on next Wednesday night, and I have to decide which to do. Q and I have been invited to go to the Cardinals game, which is great, but it gets better. The tickets are in the second row behind home plate in the green seats, which means we get all the free food and drinks we want. And we don't have to pay for the tickets. So we'd get to see the Cards up close, get free food and drinks, and only have to pay to park. I've been in the second row from the field, but it was behind third base, so we were basically dodging fly balls all night. And actually saw (and heard) a woman get hit square in the face, which was scary.

On the other hand, though, Dimmu Borgir is playing at Pops that night. They're a black metal band from Norway. I like going to shows, but normally I wouldn't have a hard time picking a Cards game over a show, especially in these seats. But I hate to miss the opportunity to see this band. I'm sure they've got a great stage show, and this is the kind of music that sounds incredible live.

Tough decision, especially for someone who doesn't like making decisions. Sometimes life can be so difficult.

UPDATE: homebrew

Okay, so Q pointed out that maybe I was being a bit overdramatic (I can't imagine that) when I said our wheat was the best I'd ever tasted. I was thirsty and it was hot, okay? It did taste pretty darn good. And still does.

i am so-ore

We fared well in the kickball tournament this weekend. Saturday was the brackets for the bad teams, while the good teams got a bye until Sunday. We played in four games Saturday, making it all the way to the final game (the final two teams left standing went on to play on Sunday), then losing. Which was fine, actually. We were all so sore, there was no way we'd be able to play on Sunday. But it was a blast. Free beer and food, good company, amazing weather - can't beat that. The best moment was in our third game, which was 2-1 (the other team), right up until the final inning. With two outs, one of our guys kicked a bomb into the outfield, and they missed it. We ended up scoring three runs and beating them. It was quite a moment, one of those that only happens in movies.

The whole day was eerily similar to our tournament run a few years back. We ended up making it to the final game after barely beating out the team in the third game, then lost to the most annoying, obnoxious team in the world. It's actually kind of creepy.

That night we went to dinner with friends at Chuy's, then were too tired to go out afterwards. We're such geezers. But on our way home we were stopped at a light on Hampton behind a cop. I just knew he was going to flip on his lights and go through, and sure enough, that's exactly what he did, only to flip them off right after he got through the light. That is so irritating. Just as irritating as a cop, without his lights on, speeding. I was heading up Big Bend to work the other day and a cop was totally on my ass. I wasn't about to start speeding to accommodate him, so after a while, I got into the other lane (I was in the slow lane, mind you), and he zoomed past me, still without lights on.

How is this allowed to happen? It's not an unusual occurrence. I see cops speeding all the time. How are we expected to go the speed limit when they can't even do it? Whatever happened to leading by example? Our cops should go the speed limit, and that's it. There should be big repercussions if they don't. If they're off duty, not in a uniform and not in a marked car, then whatever. They can do whatever they want to do. Go a hundred miles per hour for all I care. But shit, when they're on duty, go the fucking speed limit. It's so irritating. Why not spark up a joint while you're at it? Might as well have a beer or two! Oh for the love.

baffling

Q and I watched two movies this weekend - The Departed and Half Nelson. I thought The Departed was just so-so, while Half Nelson was amazing (not to mention it stars the very attractive Ryan Gosling). It made me wonder, yet again, what the hell the Academy is thinking when it chooses the best picture of the year. This year The Departed was up against The Queen, Babel, Letters from Iwo Jima, and Little Miss Sunshine.

I've only actually seen The Departed and Little Miss Sunshine, but even Little Miss Sunshine was miles better than The Departed. Totally overrated. I thought the acting was mediocre at best, and the movie really dragged through the first half. Plus it felt like I'd seen the same move at least a few times in the past. How can the Academy pick a movie with mediocre acting? It's all rigged. I'm convinced. Titanic, anyone?

good news on the food front

The first piece of good news is the grocery store opening in the Tower Grove area on June 1 - Local Harvest Grocery. It's run by the same guy that runs the Tower Grove farmers' market. They're going to stock sustainably produced meat, veggies, grains, and goods from the St. Louis area, as well as some sustainably produced goods from outside the area. Very cool. I think this will be my new grocery store. Seriously, it's exactly what I've been waiting for - I love farmers' markets, but I'm limited to the weekends. This will be perfect.

Second, Wolfgang Puck is going to make a major change regarding the food he produces. 'In all of my restaurants, catering businesses, licensed foods and takeout establishments, I'm committed to using organic ingredients and humanely raised meats and fish.' This is exciting, because his packaged goods are available in most grocery stores, and this will mean I can eat his frozen pizzas and dinners with meat on them. It's just one more option for me. Normally I'm limited to eating frozen dinners (Lean Cuisine) without any meat at all. This will be nice. I should probably give up frozen dinners all together, and perhaps some day I will, but they're just so darn easy for lunch. And Lean Cuisine uses all natural ingredients, which is good.

I suppose I should explain my diet. I only eat meat if I know where it came from and how it was raised. This means there are only a handful of restaurants where I can order meat dishes, and am also extremely limited at the grocery stores. Luckily we're able to get our beef from a friend of Q's family (he raises a few cows a year), but when it comes to other meats, I'm basically limited to what I can get at the farmers' market from local farmers. I'm okay without eating meat all the time, I actually like eating like a vegetarian. But I love a good burger.

This began last spring when I saw a PETA video we'd gotten at an Alkaline Trio show. I don't totally agree with PETA's philosophy, but just seeing what happens to animals on factory farms was horrifying. Not only do I believe we have no right to treat another living thing like that, but I don't want the meat from a tortured, hormone-injected, antibiotic-fed, miserable animal as part of my diet. There's no way it's good for you. No matter how good a McDonald's burger may taste, it's not worth it. So my stance is health-driven just as much as animal rights-driven.

I plan to slowly adopt this philosophy in regards to cheese, but that's hard. Cheese is too good to give up, and it's hard to find cheese that comes from sustainably raised animals. Oberweis is an option, but there aren't any close by. And what we think of as 'vegan' cheese actually has a milk protein in it. Maybe it'll be easier once the new grocery opens up. And I switched to soy milk last year, and it's relatively easy to find eggs that are sustainably produced. I also try to limit the amount of foods I eat with artificial ingredients (flavorings, etc.), and try to stick to organic veggies and fruits, though 'organic' doesn't actually mean much in this country. At least it's a start.

So anyway, knowing there's going to be a grocery store that has my ethics at heart is great news for me. Help spread the word. And definitely go there when it opens up.

big relief

We tried our first batch of beer last night and...SUCCESS! It tasted wonderful. We first pulled the beer from the fridge where it had been since that morning, and checked for foam. That was our biggest worry - that it'd be flat somehow. But there it was, evident even through the bottle. And then the pour. There was a small amount of foam on the top, and plenty of bubbles. We were very excited. The anticipation built as we went for the first sip. Ahhhh. Very refreshing, and honestly, the best wheat I've ever had. I think that's a common thing for homebrews. They're just better than anything you can buy.

Instead of just mixing in sugar during the last stage of fermentation, we mixed in sugar and honey. It's extremely smooth with the light hints of honey. Awesome. I'll post a picture it after it was poured.

So now we're super excited to try the next batch, and move on from there. It's neat to know that a month's time spent aging something actually worked, and didn't go down the tubes. So now I get to go home tonight, mow the yard (which is out of control), and celebrate it's hewing with a cold, honey wheat beer. Yum.

maybe administrative professionals day isn't so dumb after all

One of my bosses gave me this for Administrative Professionals Day:





The other one gave me this:







Well, not really. He kind of sort of lent it to me. As you may remember, faithful reader, my company leased two vehicles last year, a H3 and some sort of BMW convertible. They draw names for them every month, so we'll all eventually get a chance to drive them. Nice. Anyway, my one boss got the Hummer this month, and he's going out of town for a week and a half, so he kindly let me drive it.


It's weird. I'm not really into gas guzzlers, so it's somewhat hypocritical, but it's really fun. It drives really smoothly, and has pick up like you wouldn't believe, though I'm constantly worried about taking out a mailbox or street sign. And it also has a bitchin' sound system.

Be on the lookout, St. Louis. I may be coming to a yard near you.

cankle, anyone?

Picture this. It's a gorgeous, sunny spring afternoon in St. Louis. Kickball teams are squaring off all over Tower Grove park. Bit Tipsy, reeling after a loss to the Toe Jams, goes head to head with Nemesis, a super competitive, good team. We're one or two beers in, starting to crisp from the sun, and ready to kick some ass.

I'm playing first base, as usual. Some jock with a ponytail from the other team kicks the ball my way. I mean the kind of twenty-something jock who lives Monday through Saturday to play kickball on Sunday. I get it, but not in enough time to get him out at the base. No big deal. But before I know it, he's rounding first and heading towards second. I'm flabbergasted to the point of having no idea what to do next. I finally snap to it and lob the ball towards second, but this fucker is fast. By the time the ball even gets to second base, he's sprinting towards third, and eventually takes home plate. I was stunned. A fucking home run on what should have been a single. Lots of teams play aggressively, including us, but this was way beyond that. This was a ballsy move.

It's an inning or two later and the guy is up to kick again. I'm playing well behind first, as the winds were ablowing and the guys on this team could get good distance. He kicks a beeliner directly towards me - I mean so dead on that I didn't even have to move to get it. It's a grounder, however, so I have to make the play at the bag. My brain assesed the situation with record speed, and I knew I could beat him to the bag. I took off - probably not unlike the Looney Toons road runner. I was gunning for him. No way this fucker was going to take first, much less round towards second.

I was there. I was going to beat him. It was in the bag. Until a small hole in the field bent my ankle in half, that is. I swear, it wasn't an inch from the base. It was so close that both teams thought this guy stepped on my foot. I calmly walked (or limped) off the field, forcing Cootie to play the field (her worst nightmare, even though she did really good). Oh my god, I was so pissed. Not because of my ankle, but because I couldn't get that shithead out. SO PISSED. And now my ankle looks like there's a tennis ball shoved inside it. Nice.

Hopefully I'll be recovered enough to play next week. Darn ankles. Darn horribly uneven field. Darn ponytail guy from Nemesis. He did apologize afterwards, which was nice, but unnecessary. He totally thought he stepped on my foot, and I had to convince him otherwise. Believe me, I'd have knowin if he stepped on my foot. That would have been a real nightmare.

it's beer season

Here's our first batch of beer. We bottled it on
Saturday, and it should be good to go in about 2 weeks - that is if we didn't mess it up. We'll find out soon enough, I guess. Very pretty - all the little soldiers lined up.

We also started our next batch that same day. It's a wheat again, but this time we boiled a few flavored tea bags in with the wort for a few minutes. I have to admit we stole this idea from someone else, so I can't take full credit. But it smelled really good. I'm excited to try it. I promise not to steal their name, however - Teat. Hilarious. This is an actual picture. So far so good - it's supposed to get a layer of foam, and the air lock is bubbling.


Let me tell you, there is no smell like the smell of boiling wort. It's amazing. Kind of like the smell as you drive by Anheuser Busch, but more concentrated. If I could figure out how to make an air freshener in this scent I'd do it in a minute. Yum.

no, no, you're most definitely not smarter than a fifth grader

I was lucky enough to overhear the most intelligent conversation ever today. And now you get to hear it too. Ready?

Office Peon 1: What is bigger than five eights?

Office Peon 2 (and I say this with the utmost of respect, as I am also an Office Peon): I thought a half was.

PAUSE

Office Peon 1: No, 5 is bigger than 4.

ANOTHER PAUSE

Office Peon 1: Yes, five eights is bigger than one half.

Wow, I bet our clients are glad these folks are here to support the advisors. Pure genuis.

one ugly mug

I have one question regarding Don Imus and this whole mess he's in. It's not about whether the comment was racist (in case you live in a hole in the earth, he called the girls from Rutgers 'nappy headed hos'), or whether he should have been suspended, or where talk radio is headed. It's not about Al Sharpton and Jesse Jackson, and if they're media whores and what right they have to deem who is considered a racist. It's not about how Don Imus has been on the radio doing the same damn thing for over thirty years, or why he should be fired over making comments about female basketball players when he's made comments about virtually everyone else. It's not about where lines should be drawn, or how we can make the country more respectful. It's this:

How can someone with a mug as ugly as his make comments about the looks of anyone else? Answer me that. Take a good, hard look. Hopefully you won't have nightmares.

our very own beer

Q and I have embarked on the strange but great adventure of brewing our own beer. That's how much we love it. Enough to spend the money on the equipment - it's not cheap.

The thing pictured here is called a carboy. No idea why. It's where the beer lives during fermentation. This isn't ours - I found it on the web - but it looks similiar, only ours is less fancy (without that crazy yellow thing and a much simpler air lock). But the beer looks similiar, except ours is only half full. We halved the recipe in case we mess it up. We're currently waiting for it to clear up and finish fermenting, then it has to age in the bottles for a couple of weeks. It's a wheat beer. We want to mess around with the next batch, maybe add some lemon or honey. Yum.

I'm ready to try it. It should be ready in time for our first camping outing of the year. Very exciting!

lovely day at the park

I got hit on at the park yesterday. By a high schooler.

It was hilarious. I was walking Chay (who was none too pleased at this point after walking for a while, all hot and panting and acting like she was on the verge of death), and he tried to act all cool, complimenting Chay and asking my name. I knew where this was going, but it was too funny to stop. He asked if he could walk along with us for a while. He said his name was 'Big N'. I must have repeated it in a somewhat incredulous tone (I'm usually not hit on at all, much less by boys named 'Big M- not really my style), so he backed down, and said his name was Morris. The he said he normally doesn't do things like this, to which I replied 'But here you're doing it', and he laughed, then asked me for my phone number.

I smiled, and politely told him I was married. He immediately looked at my hand. I cursed myself for leaving my ring at home (I'm a bit paranoid, since it was my grandmother's), and swore to him that I was indeed married.

I told Q, and he said I should have just told the kid how old I was, which was a way better idea. Why can't I think of these things? He'd probably laughed his ass off, hitting on a near-30-year-old. Or then again, maybe he likes the older ladies, and that approach wouldn't have worked at all. I'll have to remember it for next time. What am I saying, there probably won't be a next time. My body is slowly sliding into the land of wrinkles, dry skin, and cellulite. Hell, I rarely even get carded anymore. Sad.

best things about Ireland

1. The beer. They drink good beer over there. Dark, rich stouts, smooth lagers - no crappy Bud Lite. Q and I had a beer at the airport in Chicago on our way back, and the first thing we noticed was how sad the taps were. Bud Lite, Budweiser, Sam Adams of some sort or another - nothing remotely good. In Ireland, their taps are filled with greatness. Not only is the Guiness remarkably good (and found on every tap in the country, I'm sure), but their microbrews (Porterhouse and Messrs Maguire) are also exceptionally great.
2. The buildings. Everything in the cities is old. The pubs seem small from the outside, but then you go in, and it's three floors of rambling, sprawling rooms, all covered in dark wood and dim lighting. And they're always full - all three floors. And you can't smoke inside anywhere in Ireland, which is nice. They're very accommodating towards smokers though, and usually have a smoking deck. I don't mind that people smoke - not at all. But I also don't like smelling like an ashtray, especially when I'm on vacation and have limited clothing.
3. The food. Delicious. Seriously, we only had one mediocre meal, and that's only because it cost a shitload to eat there. If it'd been reasonably priced, we'd been raving about it. Or at least I would have been. We ate in small towns and big cities alike, and loved all of it. Irish beef is wonderful. I ate so much beef - I worked on the assumption that they treat their cows better than we do. Don't tell me if I'm wrong. I won't do the research unless I go back, which I very much hope to do in the future.
4. The scenery. Every way you turned was gorgeous, bright green, and ruins of some sort or another. It's amazing to me that you can just plop down a house right next to the ruins of some medieval castle. And some are literally being eaten by the earth. It's like nothing I've ever seen. I could not get enough of the castles/ruins.
5. The general feeling of patriotism. This is a patriotism we can't comprehend in the USA, though we tout being good patriots all the time. I suppose it's because they won their independence so recently, with some of the fighters alive to this day. Old, but alive. These people have seen struggle, they've seen death and horror, and if they haven't, their parents or grandparents surely have. They get it. They take such pride in everything they do. Pride over there takes precedence over greed, and to me that's incredibly refreshing. A pub will serve you a fantastic meal at a reasonable price because they take pride in doing so. They won't cut quality or quantity to save a euro or two. To me this is the most glaring difference between our two countries. We'll screw you left and right to make a dollar, and for the most part, we'll take it, though we know it's bad for us. We're fucking suckers. The feeling is so obvious over there. They don't need a magnetic support ribbon plastered on the back of every car.
6. I got to see the hometown of my father's family, Castleconnell, in county Limerick. It's a tiny little town, but gorgeous, of course.
7. We got to spend time with our good friends, N8 & MT, also our gracious hosts during our time in Dublin. I'm sure they have some other things to say about Ireland after living there for a year and a half and having time to see some of the bad side.

Okay, that's my wrap up of the trip. Pictures to follow. Q took something like 400, and it was mostly sunny the whole time, so there are some great ones.

off to the emerald isle

The time has finally come! We're off to Ireland tomorrow. I forgot, when planning this trip, how awful the week before can be. It'll all be better when I'm on the plane, but until then, there are just so many things to think about, things that can go wrong. Like one of our dog sitters backing out, and the kennel being completely booked. Stupid spring breakers. Thank goodness our other dog sitter can watch her for the whole time. She's a life saver.

Okay, I'll be sure to drink a pint o' Guinness for all of my two faithful readers, one of whom will be in Ireland with me, drinking a pint herself. Hopefully we won't crash our tiny rental car on the crazy roads while trying to drive on the left side. Bon voyage!

the joys of office life

I've worked in an office setting for a while now (much to my dismay), and I've run across all types of people. There's the guy who has to be making some sort of noise as he walks down the hall (clicking a pen, whistling, snapping), the woman who would pluck her nose hairs at her desk, the guy with a horribly annoying ringtone with the volume turned all the way up, the guy who says 'how we doing?', the woman who advertises when she has a cold sore (obviously not aware that it's HERPES), the guy who clips fingernails in his office, oh and don't forget the guy who swings a golf club in the hallway - sometimes real, sometimes an air club. I mean all types.

Lately though, there's been a new one roaming the office. It's the guy who likes to sing like a hair metal singer. He'll go to the mail room and suddenly sing out 'I wanna rock!' in a whiny voice. Or he'll be making copies and out comes 'I've got two tickets to paradise!'. Or sometimes he'll be getting coffee and it's 'Cum on feel the noise!' He's got quite the repertoire.

I probably wouldn't mind if the kid could sing. But he can't. Not even close. He sounds like I imagine a dying squirrel would sound. Or a dying cat. Some type of small, furry animal dying a horrible death. And he's the one kid in the office who looks the very least like a guy who'd sing hair metal songs. Don't get me wrong - none here looks like he'd sing hair metal songs. Well one used to have a very small faux hawk, but he got the boot weeks ago.

Now if we could just get one with a tic, or maybe Turret's. Then we'd be a well rounded group.

it's a metal kind of day

Today's one of those days when I need to crank up the Yahoo music player full blast on the metal station. One, it relaxes me. Two, it drowns out all of the inane chatter. Lovely. I'm surprised by the bands they play on the metal station - it's a great selection.

So how 'bout that snow? I swear, if you stayed in your house with the blinds drawn and watched Fox 2, you'd think we got feet of snow, not mere inches. All this talk about digging out and black ice is going to make me ill. Come on, people. Driving wasn't even that bad. Get a grip. We could be in parts of the northeast right now where over ten feet of snow has fallen in the last week. People are digging out there for real, if they can get out of their houses. We actually got out of work on Tuesday at 2. I'm not complaining, and believe me, I took full advantage and left at 2 on the nose, but it was wholly unnecessary.

I wish we could go back to the good old days when we'd get feet of snow. What happened? Somehow the Lou manages to squeeze itself between the big fronts and always miss out. Not only would the city totally shut down, but we'd gain some perspective on what it's like to exist during a major storm.

Blah - the news is still talking about this two days later. It's sickening. I actually miss hearing about Anna Nicole's unbelievably rich baby.

mmmmm...microbrews

Q and I went to dinner with my big sister Moo last Saturday night. We always have fun with Moo - we manage to talk and laugh well into the night. We met at Square One, a brewery in Lafayette Square. They've got a great selection, and all the beer is delicious. The food is good too. My favorite is the open faced portabella sandwich - it's awesome. Their single malt scotch ale is amazing.

Next we moved on to Bailey's Chocolate Bar. I tried to make reservations, but they don't take them, and they told me it'd probably be really busy at 9. It was around 9, but we decided to try anyway. Moo insanely gives up chocolate each year for lent, so she was hoping to get her fix before that time comes. We walked in, and were told it'd be 45 minutes to an hour wait. The front wasn't very crowded like it usually is, so we hemmed and hawed for a minute or two, trying to decide if it was worthwhile to wait. Ultimately we decided no, and were just about to push open the door when a woman came with menus and asked if we were ready to be seated. Hmmm. I asked if she was talking to us - she was looking right at us - and she said yes. So it was a very short 45 minutes to an hour.

We had yummy desserts, and yummy beverages. They have chocolate-themed beverages, but also surprisingly have a wide selection of unusual drinks - beers, wines, etc. Moo and I had a Unibroue cranberry wheat beer - amazing. I decided on that as opposed to a dessert wine made with moldy grapes that I had coincidentally learned about that afternoon on PBS called Noble One, but it was $9/glass, and I'm cheap, so I had to pass. Maybe next time.

As Q and I sat at the bar at Square One waiting for Moo drinking a frosty beverage (well Q's wasn't so frosty because his was a cask ale, served at room temperature), I decided I love beer. I mean I knew it already, but I really love beer. Not because it gets me drunk, but because the taste is amazing. When it's done right, that is. I prefer microbrews. There's something so rich, so drinkable about them. I despise Anheuser, and most large production beers. Ever since drinking more and more microbrews, I can't even bear to drink the other crap. It's intolerable. I guess that's true about a lot of things.

If you haven't been to Square One, go. It's a really neat place, and in my opinion, the best microbrewery in the area.

need a good car repair shop?

I had a great experience Tuesday night. My headlight has been out for weeks now, and though Q can usually fix these sort of things, he had a ton of trouble with it. Apparently my particular model of car is difficult. Shocking. I turned to the local tire/auto store, a few blocks away from our house. We'd been there a few times before and hadn't had a bad experience yet, which is hard to find in the big city. I called the shop and asked if someone there could put in the light if I brought my car up after work one day. He asked what kind of car it was, and I told him, and he chuckled. Seems they have trouble with that model also (much to Q's satisfaction). Sure, they'd do it, no problem.

I drove it up there and the familiar faces were working that night - a big old fat guy and the owner, who is always there, but was on his way out the door. There's something heartening about the owner of a shop actually working. The big man told me it'd be ten minutes or so until the mechanic could do it, that he was replacing a battery at the moment. No problem. I sat back to wait, watching Brian Williams on TV. Without warning the owner opened the door and stuck his hand out in my direction. I assumed he wanted the part, which I handed over. He did. He walked to my car and without saying a word changed out the bulb. The big guy went to check on him, and a few minutes later, walked in and said 'You're all done.' I asked how much I owed, and he smiled and said 'nothing'. I asked if he was sure, and he said he was. I thanked him twice then went outside to thank the owner, but he'd already driven off in his truck.

How great is that? How many places would do that? It's nice to have a place right around the corner that we can totally trust, especially a car place - that's hard to find in the city. That place, by the way, is Bayless Tire & Auto, on the corner of Morganford and Weber. Check them out if you live nearby.

That's my story for the week. Without that happening this week would be totally useless and crappy.