new resolution year

So what does the end of the year bring I ask. Here's my general assessment: It has been one fucking long year. Hey, quick rundown! For posterity: DC, glimmer of hope, blizzardDC, new job, Home!, packpackpackmovemovemove, rent, farm therapy, black dogs happy, work and then work harder and more so you can pay a million bucks in taxes but hello --> BUY FIRST HOME EVER WHICH IS NOW YOUR ONE AND ONLY LOVE, this will happen again, I think, also travel/travel/travelX3, farm therapy + 1, Packed Boxes Unpacked (after 3-4-5 years), and now today.

Yes, so it's been a long year of a million changes and etc. On the whole, very good stuff. Everything I like. Next year, more of the same minus the change please. I'm having a party Friday night, FYI, SO BYOB.

Singing morphine alarms out of tune

Fine fine, no one wants to admit that they'd buy a vegetable garden. Whatever. Denial is sad.

More importantly, does anyone want to admit that they are traveling to Kentucky and Ohio this week/weekend? No? Well fine, I will. Do not knock the south/rust belt states please. It shall be a combo of work and cooking and drinking and hottubs and fireplaces and etc. Frankly, I do not think there are any other states in the country that can beat that potential so there.

What else? I blew off a 2 hours "webinar" today after the first hour. You would too if it went on until 6pm and you had heard it all before and you were running late for dinner plans. I feel no guilt.

I also am not going to speak about the Metro of late because I have nothing good to say except that it's why people in this city are so serious/cranky/mean, myself included. Major issues with commuting these days so therefore I shall dream about a day (maybe soon) when I can ride my bike to work. I am also dreaming of alot of things lately that do not involve this city and all of these people. No one finds your own dreams interesting so I will not tell you about the dream I had this morning where I had this cool watch that had a doppler radarfunction on it and so I could see the line of storms coming right before I got caught in a major downpour. You tell me.

This will lift your spirits:

per aspera II

So speaking of the Midwest/Great Plains, I am traveling to my favorite state tomorrow for some serious slow-down vacation time with my people. Very much needed = that whole big sky, lots of open space, no crowds, etc etc. I'm sure I'll be tweet/pic-ing while I'm there, probs lots of "I'm drinking beer, life is good" type tweets. That sure beats me having to tweet about someone taking a v. large dump on the Metro platform this morning which I mistook for a rotten banana until I realized that bananas are not that large. Yeah, good times in the city, I will miss it not. I also cannot guarantee that I will come back either. Good day!

Stop making sense

A couple of random observations on this Monday.

I've been reading this series on grief in Slate. It's sort of nice/interesting to be able to read about that process from a more detached distance; and by detached, I mean able to recognize the feelings without having to feel them all over again. And by distance, I mean that it's less of an open wound that never scabs over and more of a pale full-body scar that you wear, reminding you of what happened. Or something like that.

I tweeted about two people who have been hit by the Metro; one was by choice, the other I'm not entirely sure but the circumstances suggest as much. Two things: 1) I've always been conflicted about suicide - I'm libertarian in my belief that people with free will ought to be able to make this choice if they want, though I understand that most folks who choose it are not in the best frame of mind to exercise that free will = a sad situation all around and 2) if someone chooses this option, I think it's unforgivably selfish to involve other people in the act - as callous as it sounds, don't make someone else do your dirty work - the Metro operators have to live with being indirectly involved in ending someone else's life. Not fair.

Finally and definitely unrelated to above, I took the Washington Flyer bus from the airport last night when I got back in town. (Aside: I must note the fact that it takes less time for me to fly to Canada than it does to drive the 18 miles from Chantilly, VA to Arlington, VA at 830am on a weekday - this is not hyperbole, it is truth). The bus driver happened to be one of those women who has made a choice I personally would/could not make, despite my heretofore undisclosed libertarian leanings. This picture offers a pretty accurate depiction of said choice.

The following thoughts crossed my mind in about this order: What's that clicking noise? What does she have on her hands? Oh, wow, those are her nails. Dang, they're long. Like Guiness Book long. I guess that clicking noise is from her nails touching together. While she takes tickets. She is going to take my ticket. How will she grab it? Clicking. I feel nails. On.My.Arm. ! Don't panic - think about the Habs, think about Celine Dion, no, stop, no Celine. Ok, she's driving now. Clicking. How can she turn the wheel without breaking a nail? For that matter, how can she: push a button? text with any speed? write with a pen/pencil? type? pick her nose? um, pleasure herself? not scare small children when she waves? On the other hand, she can: mix her drinks without a stir stick; easily hail five taxis instead of one; scratch that itch in the middle of her back that's always been out of reach; fix her weave and mine at the same time; be her own set of clicky castanets; be a hit at the club when someone's pinky nail breaks and there are no backup cocaine delivery systems in place; point out the obvious in a roundabout, curved way so as not to make someone feel picked upon; and serve salad at dinner parties - no muss, no fuss. Thank god this ride is over.

And with that, I leave you with this: La fois suivante, nous arriverons dans la piscine plus tôt!

Take me to the riot

Holla. So let's see, Christmas happened. And then the New Year came/went. I made a resolution to bitch less and as a result, I have nothing to left to say! Heh. Actually, things are ok, I am staying positive, all is well etc etc.

I will say, though, that I am getting a little concerned by what are in essence dire warnings from the DC peeps about THE HUGE CROWDS EXPECTED and how public transportation will be AT CRUSHING LEVELS and the city will be in virtual GRIDLOCK ROADS CLOSED TRAINS PACKED and how people should expect to STAND FOR 8 HOURS SHOULDER TO SHOULDER with other people. ps. TAINTED MILK! And so on, along those lines. Every day the papers/radio/internets around here have inauguration updates and planning tips (e.g., "Uh, yeah, you probably don't want to leave your house, sorry" - DC Metro).

ETA: For those that think I'm exaggerating about TAINTED MILK!, here is a link to download the 9 page press release entitled: 2009 Presidential Inaugural Law Enforcement and Public Safety Public Affairs Subcommittee Announces Joint Transportation Plan which details road closures and warnings about taking your babies or grandmas to the event.

Having never been in this city for such an event, I am already prepared for the worst. The good thing is that they are giving us Inaug day off, which hello, if people actually had to commute into work you might as well forget it. So my particular plan is to lay in about four days worth of provisions next Friday and hunker down. Thus, as much as I love people and being in huge crowds and jammed on trains and forced to touch strangers, I will be passing on attending any of these historic events. Sorry, you will not be receiving any Twits from me on the frontlines reporting on Sasha's pigtails or Joe B's facelift.

As an aside, yesterday, WTOP online reported on the girls' first day of school and this was an actual sentence in the news: "Sasha was carrying a pink Trans backpack by Jansport and wore a brown coat and her hair in pigtails". Now those kids are dang cute, but wha?? If this town is so giddy and in love with the Obamas, why don't they marry them? Ah, it's ok, after 8 years of hell, even a pink Jansport looks a little like heaven. It's kind of cute the way people are here, they almost seem..dare I say, happy? I have even heard laughter on the Metro of late. Actual human sounds signaling happiness. No one makes a peep on those trains usually. Yeah, it's weird. Oh well, it's a New Year and people are allowed to hope/change/be happy. I know I have signed up for that myself.

So yes, aside from work and attempting to engage in life a bit more, that's what's been going on here. Good times, good times..

Oh and one more thing, I am clearly more in touch with my feelings than normal because this video makes me want to shed a wee tear and find my own elephant:



Goodnight!

Next stop: hell

My commute home tonight:






Because really, can you ever get enough of the Metro? I think not. It's like a rollercoaster. Without the fun.

From Hair to Eternity

I kinda hate making fun of people's hair given that I generally have hairfuck three quarters of the time as it is, so do not consider this making fun of someone's hair. Instead, consider it a trip down memory lane. I have not seen this hair style outside of the state of Missouri or on anyone other than my sister...back in 1983.

The classic early/mid 80's "feather":



DC Metro: Bringing SexyBack

my green thumb

Hola amigos, I know it's been a long time since I rapped at ya, but my neighbors were too busy getting robbed. No kidding. Last night I came home from work to see cop cars out at the house two doors down and they were there hours later. I had concocted this whole story about how one of the older people living there had died b/c I don't even really know them. Turns out they're not old at all, and as I said, their house was ransacked and robbed. No one was dead. Scary shit esp given this neighborhood (read: bedroom community of suburban commuters). Luckily I have two dogs who will go 10-8 on anyone's ass who attempts to steal my latest acquisition: two boxes of Samoas and 1 box of Tagalong girlscout cookies. Don't tell me that if those were spotted on the counter, someone wouldn't pry open the window and risk dog attack just to snatch them. At $3.50 a box, they're like cookies made of gold. ps. Regarding Girlscout cookies, I finally, this year, admitted to myself that I really don't like Thin Mints and I just need to stop buying them b/c all they ever do is sit in their plastic sleeves in my freezer until I move and throw them out. Sometimes, it takes years to admit the truth to oneself but I think I've crossed a threshold to a new and more honest me.

What else? Oh yes, I think I am going to document on this here blog the evolution and growth of my first (potential) new friendship in this godforsaken city. It will be like an anthropological discourse on how cultivating a friendship is like growing weed = time, attention, and appreciation for the end product. Or so friends have told me. (Aside: Once, back in the 70s, my brother convinced my mom that the pot plant that he was growing on the roof was a tomato plant and she would water it for him. It became one of those family stories that is told at holidays and funerals. The punchline of course is that Mom blamed her lack of a green thumb for it never producing any tomatoes).

Anyway, we are discussing the growth of a new friendship here. You've come in at the infancy of this so you get to follow it from zygote to like whatever it will (or will not) become. Backstory: Last thursday, there was some kind of cosmic Metro delay coupled with my lack of being able to deal with it so I just gave up and decided to come up from Metro Center and walk to Gallery Place. In fact, I contemplated just walking around the city in like one of those movies where you see someone kicking down the sidewalk, braced against the cold, alone in their thoughts in a big city, trying to 'find themselves' etc etc. Instead, I decided to go for beer. There's a brewery nearby that's not bad (not great, but not bad) so I went and got a drink and exhaled. Then, out of seemingly nowhere, a conversation with a guy sitting next to me occurred. He is Australian, his wife got a job here, they just moved to the city a week ago. She joined us and we had several more beers, discussed politics and sports, joked about America and bonded over LJ. Our tiny tiny friendship became a seed. We emailed the next day, we texted over the weekend, and on Thurs, we made plans to have drinks again. I now have a potential new boy and girl friendship. I will call them the Aussies and will update you all on our growth. It will be like our science project: Can I actually make a friend in this town? Wish me luck!

How's your world?

Oh no thanks, I couldn't possibly take another!

So I guess Virginia is for lovers (that's what they say) so maybe I'll find out for sure. I found an apt over there which is good b/c it's a million times closer to work. Like I won't be spending 3 hours a day commuting to/from work and I might actually have time in my life to do other things like sleep in and/or walk the dogs and/or do things people do when they have time (read? drink? gaze at one's own navel?). Instead of 15 Metro station stops across one side of the city to the other, I will only have 5. Instead of dealing with the green and the red and the blue and the orange, I will only deal with the orange. 1 train. Is it possible I might start liking people/human race again? A girl can dream.

So Virginia being for "lovers" reminds me of way back in the day, when an ex and I went camping with an acquaintance on a little island near Newport, RI. I barely remember her now (the acquaintance, not the ex) but as we were sitting around having drinks/camping, this gal was talking about how she, quote, "didn't take lovers". Remember when Rachel Dratch and whatshisname on SNL did that bit about "my lover"? It was said exactly like that, but this woman showed no such irony. She was serious and all like "Yes, to be honest, I don't take lovers". As in, "I'm sorry, but we don't take applicants at this time". It was like her policy not to take a lover - as if she were someone a century ago discussing her habits while taking tea in the drawing room. "Oh I don't take lovers, you see. Mummy always said it would wrinkle my crinoline petticoat. More tea?" I don't remember what her reasoning was either (I mean really, who doesn't take a lover except those who celebrate celibacy and abstinence = no one I know, but hey, to each her/his own). I don't remember the point of this story other than I think that Virginia's motto is gay.

That's all I got. I'm off to take a lover. I mean walk. I bid you adieu!

bad beat on the river

So tonight I had plans to go play poker and hustle some cash from the youth of America but by the end of the day, my energy level was zero and I just decided to grab a bottle of wine at the handy right-by-my-work Metro station and head home. Middle-age rears its ugly head. Plus I have this knot in my shoulder that is making it impossible for me to think of anything else, let alone dusting off my Texas Hold Em skillz. But the good thing is that I have now located a poker game and don't think I won't be playing in the future. I am there.

Speaking of the Metro, I got stuck yesterday for 45 minutes somewhere between stations right before Foggy Bottom b/c there was a fire or something somewhere. If a bird flaps its wings in Saskatoon, the DC Metro experiences residual delays on the red line. I've been having some success lately in pretending no one else exists on the train but me during my commute, but frankly, shit like this does not help. I really really used to like people before I moved here, I swear, but I can't say I won't be the first one cheering when the gamma rays work their magic on humanity.

Definitely a dog walk in the woods tomorrow is in order. It's supposed to snow again which makes me happy. Dogs. Woods. No people. Snow. Cold. Whatever it takes, you know?

time to shut down the city

God help me, it is snowing a fair amount in the DC metro area. Given how ppl drive here, I probably won't get home until tomorrow. Wish me luck.



The current view outside my office, while pretty, is a commuter's nightmare. Godspeed You Black Emperor!

hopelessly hopeful

Will this day/week/month/year/life ever end? The short answer is yes, thankfully. Man. I don't want to spend blogs and blogs bitching about being busy at work b/c that is on par with bitching about how much the Metro sucks (btw, saw the Cape Lady the other day - unlike this summer when I first spotted her, it was actually Cape Weather so I guess mocking her now would be totally unfair. I am nothing if not fair when it comes to mocking or not, as the case may be). One good thing about work that I will mention is that today (and on more occasions in the future), I got to venture to some government type buildings for meetings very near the Mall. Sometimes when I'm bitching about Dumb City, I forget that it actually exists b/c I spend so much time traveling underneath it. From work in our building across the river, I can see the Washington Monument and the Lincoln memorial and Thomas Jefferson's thing (Monticello? I don't recall). So I am going to make a commitment to actually come up for air once in a while and attempt to enjoy our nation's capital. It is the least I can do, bitching about it non-stop solves nothing. Mocking it is another story and that will continue unabated. Did you see the cape DC was wearing? Total RenFairy and gay!

That's it for now..things feel out of sorty here for a variety of reasons so I'm going to head to bed and call it a day, one more down in the grand scheme of days/weeks/months/years/lives.


Well there's one thing to know about this town, it's five hundred miles underground; and that's alright - Modest Mouse Night on the Sun

200 bottles of beer on the wall..

So someone asked me today (paraphrasing): "Good lord, why aren't you drinking more?" And frankly, as I sit here taking a late lunch of a few leaves of lettuce, a couple of grapes, and a pineapple slice and about to read/review/extract info from the 7th of 9 100-page government proposals (of varying degrees of clarity/sophistication) in 4 days, I find myself asking the same exact question. Why am I not drinking more? In fact, why am I not drowning in a heroin-laced bathtub of pure tequila right now? Why am I not swimming in a pool of floating vicodins with vodka waves splashing against my face as I sip pure gin through a cocaine flavored straw? Good questions, valid questions, reasonable questions.

ps. I would also ask, if I had time to ask myself and the patience to answer my own questions and the stamina to listen to my response: how have I managed not to have one of those spectacular hair-pulling eye gouging meltdowns on the Metro that you read about in the Washington Post Express mini-paper (for the attention-deficit commuter who only looks at the pictures and does the suduko and that are so annoyingly hawked by chipper paper-handers in the morning at the station entrances and who manage to make saying "Good morning, have a nice day" feel like an obligation to acknowledge and respond in kind which, to be honest, I do not appreciate because I hate people now more than ever)?

star of a film noir postcard

What have I even been doing these last few days? I have no idea. LIterally. You know how one day sorta blends into the next and pretty soon a week goes by and you're like, where am I/how did I get here/this is not my beautiful wife? I swear that's a good description of things on this end. I know I've had a cold for which I had to take an actual sick day off from work to lay on the couch and feel miserable. I hate sick days on which you are actually sick, it seems like such a waste of a day off. I know I have also been eating ice cream which first of all, I never do and second of all, I don't begrudge someone their ice cream but for me, it's a once a year type activity/give or take it, but yet here I am buying Ben and Jerry's Cutesy Name for Vanilla Ice Cream with Heath Bar Chunks and having a spoonful or five ever night. WTF? I am also experiencing an intense longing for my old workshop (as seen here in historical footage) and I would give anything to sand some wood. When you work all day in your head, sometimes you just want to get out a hammer and a nail like in that gay song. I would also like a pony and world peace, is that asking too damn much? Actually, what I would really like is for this headache to go away and for a Canadian to come to America with that wolf belt of hers and make me forget Dumb City for awhile. That is asking too much I think.

Other things: I have not had any update on my car. For all I know these shady Maryland car repair places have stripped it down and sold it for parts. My car is at some garage with the actual word Gay in the name so that tells you something right there. On the way home tonight, I saw not one but two wrecks on 95 within a half mile of each other. I tell you, it is deathtrap living here and one day when I don't post here for weeks, you can accurately surmise that it was 'my time to go" as they say. I will be the subject of one of those traffic reports on 103.5 WTOP news, weather and traffic on the 8's. And as I say, if the traffic doesn't kill you, the...

Metro will: I saw Brett Butler on the Orange line tonight. Or her younger, healthier Grace Under Fire version. I think she fell off the wagon? And sorta went to pot lately? Seems I saw a picture of her and was like, that's Brett Butler? Anyway. Rest easy tonight, her twin got off at Metro Center after a long day at Robotech and/or HHS and/or some lobbying firm or whatever.

ps. And speaking of falling off the wagon, my literary hero Miss Vivian Darkbloom has written a very lovely piece that I read today at work while pretending to work and I have to say, if it does not win Yaddo's prize for Best Story About A Beautiful Tortured Alcoholic, I don't know what will. Fingers crossed, sweetie. If/when she ever publicly makes it available, I shall duly link to it for the greater good.

We built on the river...

not dead yet

I have returned to Dumb City with a cold and a shitty attitude, therefore I shall only say a few words so as not to come off as the bitter, sick shrew I feel like today:

1. Happy B-day (yesterday) to my literary girlfriend and Promises bunkmate, Miss Vivian Darkbloom. Who shall ever forget the soiree we had for her in 1978? It rivaled Capote's Black and White party, only we called it the Sequins and Nude party. Were it not for a ridiculous call to the fire department and an unfortunate misunderstanding between María del Rosario Pilar Martínez Molina Baeza de Rasten (aka Charo) and George Hamilton, that party would have gone down in history. C'est la life. (Also a happy belated bday to Pip and Winny! Libras will rule the world one day, I am convinced.)

2. My visit to my dad's was lovely. Perfect weather. Pontoon. A sunburn. Fishing. And I had the pleasure of having breakfast in what some people would call a small-town diner, but I would call a bait store/gambling parlor that serves eggs and fried potatoes on the side. Good times. I also drove a practically blind, speech impaired, hard of hearing drunken old man around on his golf cart. His name was Pooch. One time, Pooch, after a long day and many Natural Lites, mistook the gas for the break and drove his golf cart into the porch of his trailer, narrowly missing the propane tank. Pooch was also wearing shorts that no man of his age and/or weight should wear. Good times, good times. Gotta love the Hoosier state.

3. I am just now reading the last Harry Potter book which has been making my Metro commute falsely appear shorter. Somehow I've remained unspoiled and am enjoying it. However, not to sound all sunny-happy-days-are-here-again, the 8 mile drive down I-95 is going to kill me before the end of this week. Every day, morning and night, it has inched along. I have lost all patience with people and their stupid cars and their stupid whatevers -- I engaged in some primal scream therapy this morning when I saw the backup again. Somehow, shouting the MF word over and over again did not help. I wonder if I should try shouting something more positive? Any suggestions?

And thus, I bring the shrew full circle. I wish I could get it up to be excited that today is Wednesday or that I had finally worked for and achieved world peace, but alas and alak, all I can do is buck up like a good soldier! Enough of this bullshit! Come on now!

I go for the hotdogs, stay for the beer

Well, as you know, I do appreciate my sports. Heck, right now I'm drinking my morning Diet Pepsi and flipping between the Solheim Cup and the women's soccer World Cup. It has been established that I will watch almost any sport involving women and a fair amt involving men.

Except baseball. My friend Vivvy of course is a huge Yankees fan. My dad is a big Cubs fan since forever. Apparently alot of people like it since the season lasts, what, 10 out of 12 months of the year. I am not one of those people.

And yet, I will be going to the Braves-Nationals game tonight down in the city with that also newly-moved here gal I met a while back in the city. I'll let you in on a little secret. The only reason I am going is to sit in the stands and look at green green grass, have a stadium hotdog and some beer and chit-chat. It's a beautiful day out today and tonight will be lovely, so why not spend it outside looking at grass? I would imagine that it won't be that crowded, I know enough to know that the Nats (as they call them) aren't good so I'm hoping it will be like when I went to a few Royals games. Empty and plenty of room to stretch out. That is my kind of baseball game. Do some crowd watching, be entertained by the jumbo screen antics, have a dog, drink some beer, and occasionally look up to make sure a fly ball is not coming towards my head. I can do that.

Metro-bitch-of-the-week: It's been awhile since I posted a Metro bitch (not that there hasn't been much to bitch about), but on Thursday, my prescription sunglasses apparently fell out of my stupid "tote" bag and before I realized it, were on their way to Vienna. So I check in on the Metro website to see what to do about it. Apparently, there are so many glasses and sunglasses lost that they don't bother to do much about it, you just have to go to Silver Springs and sort through what I am imagining to be this huge barrel/bin in the off chance you will find your glasses there. If they weren't prescription, I'd write them off but you know. Fuck. So a possibly fruitless trip to Silver Springs is on the to-do list today as well. I can't wait. (ETA: Nevermind. The lost and found office is only opened "conveniently" between the hours of 11am and 6pm on weekdays. When most people who might lose things on the Metro are, you know, working.)

I spy...

Well.

On the orange line tonight, someone shit their pants (or produced an uncanny facsimile thereof). Nice. I changed cars at the next stop...to the car with the crying baby. It was at that point, I just turned up the Split Lip and gave up.

On the next leg of my journey, I recognized another commuter and added him to the list. He is now the Dennis Green Doppleganger and he joins Tall Asian iPod Guy and Circe Nightshade (aka "Cape Lady"). Yeah, I can see this Spot-A-Metro-Commuter becoming a regular feature here. (A variation might be Celebrity-Metro-Lookalike: I saw a Stevie Nicks on the redline yesterday. No shawl though and probably on her way to work at the Fajita Round-up. Holla, pip!)

And you wonder why I drink?

So this might be the last post before I leave for the weekend. I hardly need tell you how much I'm looking forward to this. I won't be sharing any salacious details of my Canadian exploits (sorry to disappoint my friends from the Middle East who routinely search for terms like "nippy fucky" and land on my blog). I will say, however, that said exploits will not only be salacious and libidinous, but also possibly gay. Like very very gay. And also the best. Ever.

And with that I bid you adieu!

Waiting with my Aunt Rosaline

I'm so currently obsessed with this song by this band that I have snuck onto blogger from work to mention it.

We like the newness, the newness of all
That has grown in our garden soaking for so long

Whenever I was a child I wondered what if my name had changed into something more productive like Roscoe
Been born in 1891
Waiting with my Aunt Rosaline




The whole album is fantastic and to be honest, it was the only thing that kept me sane this morning with the greenline/redline/orangeline delay from hell cram packed into a steaming metro. I went into my bubble and pretended humans ceased to exist on earth, something I've also been thinking about on my train ride lately for some strange reason, hmm. I listened to a podcast with that author and read the story (want the book) and have been imagining this city crumbling and overgrown. The thought of nature and trees and grass and water just breaking down all this bullshit and reclaiming the land sounds good to me in a weirdly it's-ok-humanity-is-overrated-anyway way. Heh.

This is what a day like today and yesterday in this damn city will do to me. My own personal saving grace is that I have two trips planned in the upcoming weeks far far away from here that will restore my faith in what I love most about people and balance me the fuck back out. You have no idea how much I need these trips (well, actually, you probably do). Until then, I'm going to think about honeysuckle covering the metro fences, pulling them down, the Potomac washing away the concrete, tree roots breaking through walls and green green grass overgrown and waving in the wind.

No wonder I love people so much!

And each and every one of them was crammed up against me at some point.

ps. Tonight, someone had peed on one of the seats on the orange line, the girl sitting in front was warning people away from it. At least there's some common courtesy amongst my fellow 19.2 million.

pps. The best part of this week is the fact that it will reach 99 degrees for the next two days which means that the underground stations like Metro center will be a nice soupy mix of burnt pee smell, offal, and human sweat. Yum-my! Admit your jealousy now or lie to yourself forever.

Random Sampling and Abnormal Distributions

Holla, all you data geeks!

Oh Win, you had to go and do it. This whole tagging business. I'm resisting...resisting...

...but I can only write about the damn Metro for so long before even I click my own hollaback button. So. No guarantees re: scintillating details, these are just the random facts, Ma'am.

Rules:
We have to post these rules before we give you the facts.
Players start with eight random facts/habits about themselves.
People who are tagged need to write their own blog about their eight things and post these rules.
At the end of your blog, you need to choose eight people to get tagged and list their names.
Don't forget to leave them a comment telling them they're tagged, and to read your blog.


1. I had my one and only nosebleed for the first time ever in my life three nights ago and got all light-headed based on the quantity and vivid color. Lohan might be used to such things given her, um, happy pants , but this is all new to me and I would like to pass on having another such event.

2. One time, when I was like 9 or 10, I played on this softball team and we were in the championship game. I was a scrawny skinny little thing, but I was fast and had a good arm. I was playing the spot they called 'rover' which is kinda behind second base and sorta outfieldy. They stuck all the little kids in the outfield b/c they figured no one would ever hit that far. I have no actual memory of this, but my dad recently told me a story about that game where apparently, there were two outs and we were winning (glued to the screen by this riveting random fact yet?) by like 1 or something. The other team was up to bat and one of their best hitters was up. A big girl, I guess. So she ends up hitting this line drive that's totally going to go over my head and win the game. According to the story, I apparently threw my skinny little arm up, caught the ball, and fell down with it still in my mitt. Now here is where you would think I would remember something of this magnitude: My teammates all ran to me and lifted me on their shoulders and carried me off the field in joyous celebration. Like total fucking movie or something. Seriously. And I can't remember this?

3. I stole a car once when I was 15. Granted, it was my mom's and I only drove it around the block while she was bowling and she never knew it was missing. Speaking of bowling, I recently just threw away like 5 old bowling trophies of mine from when I was a kid. Yeah, I bowled. Remember, we're talking Indiana.

4. I wrote my entire PhD in a month just to prove my advisor wrong, that I actually could write it in a month. Sidebar I: I had the data already collected, but still. Sidebar II: I gave up drinking beer, smoking pot, and sleeping during that month. Sidebar III: I thanked my dog in the acknowledgements. Sidebar IV: If I can do it, you can too, Mrs V!

5. Four years ago, while back home visiting my mom, I witnessed and was the first on the scene of a head-on car accident on a perfectly sunny summer morning. My mom was in the car with me and we were traveling on a two lane country highway. The minivan in front of us was weaving back and forth across the lanes, almost hitting cars coming at us. I slowed way down and was just reaching for my cell phone to call the cops when the accident happened. The car he hit spun around and landed in our lane, his minivan flipped and went into the other lane. I pulled over and ran up to the car, the smell of burning oil was kind of sweet. I hate that smell now. The older lady in the car was in shock. I reached in and touched her shoulder, talked to her. She kept asking what happened and fading in and out of shock. There was blood, not a lot, but enough. She had also lost most of the fingernails off of her hand and blood was coming from her ear. I know now that it visually could have been a lot worse and am thankful it wasn’t. I just kept talking to her and telling her help was coming; my mom found her watch in the roadway and put it in her car. They had to cut off the top of the car and the doors to get her out. It wasn’t until a couple of hours later that I realized I had her blood on my pants. The driver of the minivan was an older man too, we never knew why he drove head-on and hit that car and we never found out whether the older woman lived. I won’t forget that day. It makes me wonder about the guy who witnessed my mom’s accident a year later and came up on the scene first. I know his name from the police report. What did he see and what does he remember most? Actually, I’m kind of glad I don’t know the story he tells about that night.

6. The longest I've ever gone in my life without having a dog is 1 year. Growing up, our dog Alex used to walk with me to school and lay out in front of the doors until it was over and walk me home. He would do the same when I walked downtown to the grocery store. Everyone knew him in town and he used to lay in the street in front of our house and watch the cars go by, everyone just drove around him. My yellow dog in grad school had the softest ears and when we went camping, she would search for the highest place near us so she could guard. She loved to canoe too. One of my current black dogs, the baby dog, reminds me alot of her, very gentle and sweet. I can't imagine not having a dog.

7. I have fallen all dorky-crazy in love with a lone wolf Canadian drummer girl!

8. In the tradition of costumes, my old friend J and I once dressed up as Isis. Remember that show? Eight years later in the trunk of my old car under my spare tire, I found the 80's gold belt from that costume. It's now back in style I think, I saw someone wearing one on the Metro today. Niiiice.

Alas, I don't have 8 people to tag, but Mona and vivvy, please indulge me and keep this chain letter going and you will have good luck for 8 years. Or something. It's way gay, just do it!