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There is a special place in Hell for the drivers who pause to look at an accident that happened on the other side of a bisected highway.

Where are my hot motorcycle men to assist me in my driving endeavors?

I hate motorcades. Hate them. Why do you get to stop traffic for miles around with your hot little motorcycle cops that won’t even ride shirtless for the delight of the female traffic prisoners? Why do I have to stop for a damn motorcade every time I drive into the city? Does the President see me coming and freak out, forcing the world to come to a complete stop? Would anyone really care if he was in the passenger seat of his pal’s Ford Super Duty 250 Lariat pickem up truck? I think we would react as we Washingtonians do to most celebrities. “Oh look, it is the President. GO! The light is green!” Then cut him off while flipping the bird.
When I was a kid, we went on a field trip to the Smithsonian. We were all packed into the yellow bus (a long, one, thank you) and were on our way to stand in line for four hours to see the Hope Diamond, which by the way, wow*. We had to pull the bus over for the Presidential motorcade. But Reagan at least rolled his window down and waved to us kiddies.

On a different note, but still about traffic, I drove to DC last night and found myself, along with half the driving population in the “Bus Only” lane. There were busses trying to get through. No wonder our bus system is so sucky. Someone should have given every one of a ticket for being in that lane. The only non-city bus that should be allowed to drive in that lane is Jerome Bettis. (HA!)


*Say this in a heavily underwhelmed tone.

New Blog

I created a new blog in addition to this one. I figured that I should make my addiction work for me.

I'm Lost

I finally figured out why they named the show "Lost". It is not because they are lost on an island in the middle of no where. It is because I am lost in the premise of the show. What the hell is going on? There is a magic box? This magic box provides anything you wish for? I would wish for a tame unicorn, and a dodo bird, because I would like to play with them. I could probably make the box explode by asking it for a relationship that is great and easy.
Is Ben really Alex's dad? How did he knock Danielle up? That story line confuses me, not just for the fact that Alex looks nothing like Ben. But, that means nothing. (Just for the record, though. She's hot!) But didn't Danielle say that she already had the baby when she came to the island?
Is Ben the only native? Where are his folks? Are they the originators of all of this?
How do they have electricity if one of those electomagnetic bombs took out everything else? On "24", the e-bomb took out everything in season 4.

Random thoughts:
Kate (Evangeline Lilly) looks like a woman who played "Annie" as a kid and just never quite outgrew the look.
Why does Desmond look like Jesus?
Why won't they cut Sawyer's wimpy hair. I hate it.

I'm bored.

I like my drive home. I saw a whole lot of pink the other day, and not on women. Is this the new fashion? I am not certain how I feel about men in pink. I don’t know why it could affect me in a negative way. Maybe it doesn’t. Hmm, in any case I saw a lot of men in pink on my way home the other day.
Yesterday, while driving up to a red light, I saw a woman waiting for a bus. What made her so interesting was that she was in the middle of a very heated argument with … no one. Her face was red with rage and she gesticulated at nothing. She would angrily gather up her coat and shake her fist. I looked around and saw no one and nothing that she could be so angry with. I almost hit the car in front of me trying to watch her. Luckily the light turned green before she turned her enraged eyes onto me. Wonder what pissed her off? Maybe she is a medium and the ghost of Larry “Bud” Melman was annoying her.

Heather Mills (McCartney) gets a leg up

Heather Mills puts her best foot forward on Dancing with the Stars. Prior to shaking a leg, she was told to break a leg and waltzed (well, foxtrotted) her way into America’s hearts. But will she keep her competition on their toes? I hope she does not get cold feet and shoot herself in the foot. She probably gets a kick out of performing and will jump in with both feet and not pussyfoot around. I will wait to cast judgment after I see the footage.

Footnote: I’ve got to run now.*

*Because I know I am not right. But isn't it punny?

Easy going, nice girl seeks patient coffee maker

A bumblebee just flew into my window. First of all, what is he doing all the way up here? I am on the tenth floor. Second, why did he want to come in here? Was he hoping to get some faxes done for free? Because they charge you an arm and a leg at Kinkos. Maybe he thought a cup of coffee would energize him for his long flight back down to ground level. Unfortunately, the fuse blew in our kitchen and we are free from coffee machine coffee. It is okay, though. There was a field trip to the local Caribou, where I have a new audience to alienate with my complicated coffee orders.

Today’s order went something like this:

Me: (playing with my hair, trying to look cute, so they’ll like me. Also, my early experiences with Caribou occurred after my getting a hair cut and then rewarding myself with a coffee treat at the Caribou next to my salon. I would strut in, blonde hair aflowin’, and with a flip of my long sultry tresses I would order them to make me a drink, dammit! So, long story not so short, I get a little cocky when in a Caribou, because I have a history of feeling pretty when I go in there.)

Caribou Coffee Order Taker: …

Me: I will have a Mint Condition. (I should have said something like, “I will only take it if it is in Mint Condition”, or “I need a drink. I understand I have a condition. A Mint Condition”. But I am not clever, and those were not that clever.)

CCOT: $4 Million dollars please.

Me: Wait! Only one pump mocha and all the mint!

CCOT: Typing furiously into the computer

Me: No! Wait! 4 pumps mint. It’s so sweet. You got that I said non-fat, right? And the no-whipped?

CCOT: Still typing.

Me: Tee hee. I am so cute, right?

CCOT: So disgusted, will not look at me.

So I move over to gather my beverage and tell the Coffee Maker Guy to go ahead and put some whipped cream on it. But just a weeeee bit.

Coffee Maker Guy: Puts a ton of whipped cream on it. (oops, I typed me instead of it and that would make this a much more interesting story that I would probably tell over drinks at bars to strangers for years to come. But alas, that did not happen. What did happen was that I made a face and a squeaky noise and told him to take some of it back off again.)

CMG: nicely takes some of it off.

Me: MORE!

I might need to start going back to Starbucks….

It is delicious outside

Today's weather feels like gulping a cold beverage after having been slaving away in the hot sun. It's like the peanut butter and jelly sandwich you eat after having played in the pool all day long. The air on my skin felt like a hug from my mom after a long trip where I suffered immense homesickness. I can't seem to take enough of it in!

Welcome spring! I really missed you.

Bobblehead ski trip!

Ryan Tobler and his pal Greg Pankewicz hit the slopes.With reckless abandon, they take on Black Diamond Run! It is all about the buddy system.Tobler, having taken on too much speed, takes a header.Long first day behind him, Ryan soaks his pain away. Day two is about serious skiing, dude! You ready to conquer this hill?? Dude! DUDE! DUUUUUUDE!!
Rocky theme music running through their bobbley heads. Ryan's snow blind. He bravely skiis on, feeling his way through the snow."Dude, you call that skiing?" says Greg to his fallen compadre.This is what a fall SHOULD look like!Now let's get serious! Wooooooo!This is one sweet slope! Deep powder skiing is the only way for meeeeeeee.This is what I like to call a SPankewicz! Yee-haww!Hot chocolate in the lodge: Awesome day on the slopes, Tobes. You ain't kiddin', Pankers. Cheers! Now where are those ski bunnies?

*Photography by my sister.

Next blog

I hit the next blog button on Blogger and ended up here http://marksintermediateclasssession10.blogspot.com/ (My computer system does not allow me to do hyperlinks for some reason.)
I read the little entry about donuts and thought, that's cute. I liked donuts, too. I left a comment sharing in my former enthusiasm and read on. I thought, hmm, this person writes kind of weird. Very short and sweet. Nothing seemingly tying the entries together. I read on, looking for the person's profile. When I got to the bottom of the page, I realized that this was a blog for a class. Probably an ESL class, gauging by the names and style. I also noticed there where no other comments left behind. Oops. Hope I did not confuse anyone.
Hee hee.

You may have won! Log on to find out!

What’s the deal with the new fad of getting you completely captivated by something, only to have them tell you to go to a website to finish the story? Hmm, that sounds convoluted. Let me explain.

Example #1: I was watching MTV with my mom about this 16 year old Mormon chick who married a 17 year non-Mormon boy. At the end of the show, which for some reason I watched until the end, the girl says “To find out what I gave to boy’s mom, go to my website.” So I will never find out what she gave his mom.

Example #2: News programs that used to piss me off with the whole “Amazing breakthrough that will SAVE YOUR LIFE! Details at 10:00.” (Like I am ever going to remember to tune in) are now saying “Earn a million dollars in 15 minutes. Log on to our website to find out how.” (I made that up, but you know what I mean.)

Example #3: Magazines that ask questions, or have surveys and say to find out the answer, log on to their webpage. Self did this recently with a question about women’s health and breast cancer. I am now probably going to die because they did not have that information readily available for me while I was engaged in receiving it.

Listen, I will go to your website if I feel like it. Hell, I may even be more apt to log on if you are having a contest where I could win something, or see naked pictures of Wentworth Miller. BUT, I am not going to do everything with a pad of paper and a pen so that I can write down your web address and the question I want an answer to so that I may run to the computer and have to search on your crappy site for the answer you have craftily hidden from me.

First day

I could hardly sleep, I was so anxious about starting my new job. You know, the new job that is going to shoot me to the stars, it will be so damn great.
I slept with one eye open and a bladder full of tea because I read a book in which the main character (it was a biography, so is she still a character?) was too broke to pay for an alarm, so when she had important things to get up for, she would drink a huge glass of water. Hence the tea and the full bladder. Hey, it works. I got up early.
I got myself ready. I made some fresh coffee. I got my tail on the road a full hour before I needed to be here. Traffic was not bad. I got to work in half an hour and it is 20+ miles away. (Hey Brian, Parkway rocks!)
I got to the door of my new office and pulled. It is a push door. That will take some getting used to. I was greeted by a very happy-to-see-me HR girl. That is a great way to start the day! She looked like she wanted to hug me, but opted for the handshake instead, only admitting later, after I was hugged by another one of the girls, that she too, had wanted to give the Bug a hug.
I met everyone. Ever notice how men in suits all look the same. I have no idea who any of them are. I feel like I met the same guy over and over again.
I have a nice little area. It is private and all mine. I even have windows.
I am so bored. I am not certain what I should be doing. I am completely retarded when it comes to the phone, so I have reverted to taking hand written messages. Whaa? I know. I will taking shorthand dictation next. (No dictation jokes. You know you are more clever than that!)
Here is to hoping that I figure out how to get in the front door tomorrow.

Jenny Owen Youngs

I met Jen and Cristina at Iota last night. Jen is a fan of Jenny Owen Youngs after hearing her song "Fuck was I" on the TV show "Weeds".
This girl totally rocks. She sang this cover of Nelly as her finale. (Which totally reminded me of the "Boyz-N-The-Hood" cover by Dynamite Hack).

She seemed slightly irritated at all the yappers in the fairly small crowd. I would be too. They were loud! And why come to a small bar with a stage, if you want to chat up your friends? Rude.

Me, being the super cool girl that I am, went up to her after her set to buy a cd. We got to chatting. We discussed TV shows and I elaborated on how I think everyone on TV should be beautiful. The ugly girls should be played by people like Cameron Diaz. I see enough ugly on the streets of DC every day. Don't need it in my fantasy television land. Jenny asked me if I was on something. I had to admit that, nope... this is just how I am.

Iguana be your friend

One thing I really wanted to see in Puerto Rico was an iguana. We rented a car to get to old San Juan and along the way, I saw several iguana roadkills. How sad! I hoped to see a non-squashed one, too. We drove through El Yunque, the rain forest, and I finally glimpsed my first live iguana!! He darted out in front of my car, and I slammed on the brakes. Coming to a sudden, screeching stop, the car went pathump and squish and the iguana was no more.

I am a murderer.

*Photo is of non-victim iguana from Fort San Cristobel in Old San Juan.

Puerto Rico, you lovely Island...

My body is attempting to turn itself inside out after having spent past two days at my computer, banging out a crappy essay and a powerpoint project for my class on the American Dream. I actually had to take a break somewhere after about 20 hours and take my aching self to the chiropractor. Still hurting! Such a horrible panicky pain. But worth it!

Because:

1. I am finished with my paper
2. I am finished with my project
3. I am finished with this class
4. I am on my way to Puerto Rico!!!!

I can't wait. Once I finally get my (oversized for 5 days) suitcase packed and take a shower, the only thing between me and the beach is sleep, an early morning plane ride and well, all the crap that comes between the airport and the sand. Yay!

I'll be thinking of you whilst seeing this: