Let me tell you why life is good
I got yelled at by a volunteer and all the boss said was, "you're going to have to try much harder than that if you want to get fired."

I came home and made my dinner.

I called my friends and talked about the Holidays.

Kim invited me over and I hung out with the Smiths for quite a while. They're better than apple pie.

I came home again and my cousin asked me which Ultimate disc she should buy. Can you hear my heart sing?

I exercised. I'm reading a book that I don't think much of, but it's better than not having a book at all.

My leftovers at lunch were better than dinner last night.

I don't have to wear as many clothes because the housemate is out of town. (FYI: I'm fully dressed in a comfy pair of sweats and a long sleeve T-shirt at the moment.)

My toenails are so happy they have their own happy faces.

My new tie looked so spiffy with my new shirt and my new pants.

I can't sleep, so I have more time to blog.

One more day of '03 and then we're on to '04-- the year of the Dave

What the ?
Cheering the Tigers to victory is proving to be more difficult than I expected. I either pay $25 to watch it in snooty VA or I don't. There's got to be another option. Must think harder...

I reckon irons are for making waffles and making wrinkles.

I figure if I was being chased by a bus I would slip into a parking garage and watch the top half of the bus get totally destroyed by the concrete level above.

Yea. That'd be sweet.

Single serving day
As I slid into my middle seat on the plane, the window occupant said, "Hi, I hope you're interesting." I said, "Well, I don't know about that."
When we landed in Charlotte, we were still talking. Does that mean I'm interesting?

Stop the screaming
I met the offspring of one of my best friends tonight. Two undeniably good-looking people produced, not surprisingly, one undeniably good-looking baby boy.

His was not the screaming that I wanted to stop. That would be the other guys. It's strange to say, but Brian's friends, my friends I keep in touch with through Brian, have grown up, but they haven't stopped hurling insults at the top of their lungs. Some things change and some things never do.

There's something in my eye
My dad gave my mom the runaway Christmas gift hit; he converted old home movies from the 8mm to VHS. So yesterday, I watched as my parents got married, had a son, and had a daughter to the sounds of generic piano music. I watched little David try and steal the spotlight back from his new little sister. It was all very cute and made everyone a little misty, but what got me was a noise my Grandpa A. made.

The film showed one Christmas about 1983, I received a new toy and excitedly raised it up for my Grandpa to see. On the screen he puckered his lips in mock-thrill. In my head I heard the little "Woo" that always used to accompany it. From that point forward I couldn't get the tears out of my eyes. I rememberd the traps that Grandpa S. used to put me in with his feet. It all made me miss my grandparents terribly. My sister asked me if I wished I was a kid again, but I don't. Sometimes I miss that innocence. Little David jumping wildly on the screen Christmas morning, while little Becky rubbed her eyes trying to wake up.

I'm so lucky to be in such a wonderful family. I wish I had more time with my grandparents. I just barely got old enough to appreciate them as they were getting too old to let me. There's something in my eye again. I want to enjoy the time I do have with my parents and my aunts and uncles, who turn out to be real people after all. I'm looking forward to June, when all my cousins (all 4 of them) and I can wreak havoc on some dance floor in Colorado as my sister and her fiance tie that knot.

The story of Casino Santa with commentary
Casino Santa is a recent addition to folklore. While the real Santa has European ties or Coca-Cola ties, Casino Santa has Mob ties.

Like Claus, Casino Santa (C$ from this point forward), comes around once a year. He just happens to arrive 2 nights before the other fat man. Instead of a sleigh, C$ rides in a black Lincoln with tinted windows. Instead of hearing bells, you might hear the holiday peel out and the next day find fresh skid marks. These are all clues that C$ has come for a visit. Look closely at your door and you will probably notice that the lock has been jimmied. Do not leave out cookies for C$; they are not good for his diet. C$ prefers a glass of Chardonay and your silence.

Like the other Santa's, C$ keeps a list. Some historians have called it the "hit list", but authorities will not comment on this accuracy. If you've been good to your word and kept your mouth shut, C$ will leave you some nice shiny casino coins and a pair of socks. The coins are for spending at one of the local casinos, to be supplemented by your last paycheck, of course. The socks are a subtle reminder. They say, "F*(* up, and we'll slide you right into a pair of concrete shoes." Stay on your best behavior and you can wear the socks with little concern. Anger C$ and you will pay the price.

Do not think C$ is an evil man. It is mere coincidence that his intials are an anagram of SIN CAO SATAN which roughly translated means "Come sin with the devil." C$ brings jobs to many of local workers. He gives money to the local schools and he gives riverboats to the local rivers.

You are probably better off if you don't meet C$. If you do happen across him, smile, do not comment on his weight and do not ask why his thugs wear elf shoes. Just smile politely, avoid making deals and leave as fast as possible. As C$ would say, "Merry F-ing Holidays suckers."

Small town corrections
Last Thursday I said that Joe's Place was the only restaurant in Idalia, CO. I have now been told that I am wrong. Joe's Place is not even in Idalia. The two restaurants in Idalia are The Route and PrarieVista Cafe. Do Topia regrets the error.

Ch Ch changes
I'm home, er, I'm at my parent's house that used to be home. Some of my residue still hangs around, but it doesn't feel like home. It feels smaller. I felt almost claustrophobic wandering around the house this morning. (This comes from a guy who lives in a carriage house). It could be the clutter, I decided. Some of it is Christmas clutter and some of it is sister clutter. The former I could do nothing about, but the latter I picked up and organized a little bit, got some of the clutter out of the living room. When my mom realizes that I picked up things unprompted in her home she will probably have to sit down and gasp for breath. But don't worry, she will survive. It's not like I dusted or cleaned the toilets. I'm not drunk, I'm just a little claustrophobic. (I am not implying that I only clean the toilets or dust when I'm drunk, even though I suspect my mom thinks they occur with the same frequency.)

In an aside I am also trying to avoid the sass that gets me in trouble while I'm here. It's worked so far. So far being the three hours between plane arrival and bedtime.

There are some things I think you need to know

*I sing in the car. I sing in a piercing falsetto-- the higher the better. Sometimes even when I don't need a falsetto, I use the falsetto.

*I talk to Orion. Not the cat in Men in Black, I talk to the constellation. He's been there for me through some lonely nights. He used to hang over my little Colorado town. That's where we began speaking.

*I'm into guilt trips. I don't like them that much, but I use them. My favorite at the moment is, "You'll ruin Christmas."

*I get uncomfortable when someone gets left out, so I lie to people about what I'm doing "this weekend."
*a) I often get caught in those lies and I look like an idiot.

*I like to do things that everybody else isn't. I try not to let that be my only motivation, but it can be a strong one.

What is real?-- online book review
If you're a reality TV fanatic, or even if you've secretly seen a few episodes, but refuse to tell anyone, you'll probably enjoy Lizzy Hated Pantyhose. This online novel is well-written and entertaining. It manages to celebrate reality TV even as it pokes fun at the genre. The Tyrant tells us that it's a first draft, but I found that hard to believe.

It has a few dud jokes "you might remember me from such TV shows as..." being the most repeated dud. It starts to drag a little with the introduction of America's Top Model but by that point I had to find out the ending. The main character was a little too versatile for my tastes, but maybe reality TV watchers have a knack for slipping into their favorite shows that I don't know about. My biggest regret about the whole experience was that I couldn't curl up under the covers with my iMac. Online novels are a pain in the eyes, but this one is worth a look.

Don't believe me? Ask Clare.

Cruisin' I-60-- Dotopian review and promotion
If you look at the DVD cover and Amy Smart you might think Road Trip. If you look at the rest of the cast you might think Back to the Future (same writer). If you combined the two, Interstate 60 is about what you'd get. It's perfect if you're looking for a comedy that's not too brainy, but has a some quaint social commentary, some great wisdom, "It's inevitable if it happened", and Michael J. Fox, not to mention a few laughs, a couple of surprises, and a happy but predictable ending. Go ahead, take a little trip on I-60 with the top down.

Holiday Oddities
Oddity 1: I made it to the dance floor at the work holiday party yesterday. My Electric Slide went pretty well, but then they asked for some "right foot; left foot; crossover, crossover" jig and it wasn't working for me. A very large woman who had been instructing me became displeased with my performance and began to grab the back of my pants/belt and move me to where I needed to be next. I like a little help, but usually prefer it to stay off my rear end. Intimidated and uncomfortable, I left the dance floor.

Oddity 2: In a bold gesture the party planning committee decided monetary door prizes was the best way to get people to stay for the whole party. Because we had to be present to win, we spent the last 45 minutes to an hour grumbling, "Where's my money?" Holiday spirit out the wazoo.

Oddity 3: DJ peanuthead (not his real hip hop handle) kept calling for all the fellas to get out on the dance floor. I'm not sure he realized that we made up only 25% of his audience. Even if we had all poured onto the dance floor he would still be wondering where we were.

Oddity 4: Never before have I so hoped that a movie would end and yet not ever end. Thank you Peter Jackson.
Sorry tushie.

Oddity 5: Odd is the new word and there are new numbers, but always odd.
Always odd.

E a O 's
Of the 1 restaurants where my sister lives, the interesting ones are listed.
No wonder tourism is so H-O-T.

If I was a freak show,
I wouldn't sell many tickets.

Little oddities I have noticed today:
*Generally, I loathe myself on the first 3/4 of my commute home. We're talking all-out "you've never done anything right in your life" loathing. And then it disappears- just like that.

*There may be no such thing as a free lunch, but the three I haven't paid for this week sure were nice.

*It's not my fault. It's the beautiful women.

*Jealousy is an icky pointless emotion as far as I can tell.

Good night Ladies
is the other song I know, but here's Bile Dem Cabbage Down.
Have a listen!
audio post powered by audblog

Look Mom! Sound!

Tracing the arc
Nervous about leaving my heart on top the screen, I would also like to point out that I think Do Topia has become more inclusive in its definition of family and love. I think that's nice.

It's either very important or not important at all
I was happy, but lonely until I got to making my daily blog rounds. Now I'm sorry and reflective. Maybe it doesn't matter what I think, but blog family, DC family, family family, and even the nonreaders, you should all know that I feel very lucky that you're MY FAMILY.

In an effort to make my New Year's Resolution more impactful I have taken to
drinkin', cussin' and womanizin'.

Merry FAKE Christmas
It's what Christmas is all about, minus the religion...
Last night and today, I had the joy of attending a very merry FAKE Christmas. It included food,
holiday cookies, board games, my DC family and lots of frankincense. I lied-- there was no frankincense. However, there was snow and Christmas songs. We got to sing "I'm dreaming of a white FAKE Christmas". And our dream came true! We also got to sing "I'm dreaming of a Dirty Christmas", but that's a story for another time.

Last night we all cuddled up on the floor to watch "Coupling" as Christmas tradition dictates. Then we fell asleep at 3 in the morning and hoped that the sugar plums dancing would not prevent Santa's arrival. I don't remember exactly how slumber parties and Christmas go together, but I'm sure that even Santa has to sleep.

Lucky for us, Santa did come. He skipped munching on the cookies and I think maybe he brought us bagels and oranges. He didn't cut the oranges though, Rob had to do that. Santa also made us coffee, but it was a bad batch.

Then we opened presents. FAKE Christmas ended, and the children were joyful.

Now there's no reason to ever leave the computer
Ultimate-the computer game.

(It's tough, but not nearly as satisfying.)

The Amazing 5th Wheel
I found myself feeling remarkably like a fifth wheel last night. Let me state perfectly clearly: "The 5th wheel for me is a very lovely wheel." It means that I am hanging out with four of my fabulous friends. The funny thing about last night was that I wasn't with two couples. I'm very comfortable as a fifth wheel and last night was no different. It surprised me, but I was almost relieved to fall into that role. Odd.

His Majesty awaits his food
I have never had as many managers and waiters speak to me as I did eating at the Austin Grill. I got the wrong order and sent it back to the kitchen. I wasn't even hungry and not the least bit worried about it as my friends began to eat their meals. I had really come to hear the live music. A manager came over and he addressed the table, but he seemed to be looking at me. "It'll be out shortly," he said looking at me. I couldn't figure out why he seemed to be focusing on me. How did he know that I had asked my friends to come to his restaurant. Then as he left I realized he meant my food would be out shortly, not the music.

My food wasn't out shortly, but I didn't care. The Austin Grill cared. Another manager came over and said, "Where's your food?" and then scurried off to take care of it. The first manager soon returned and looked at me horrified. I joked, "It was great. I ate it really fast." He said shaking his head, "I'm sorry. I'll go check on your meal."

Most of the table finished their plates when a waitress arrived with my order. After a single bite that I hadn't chewed, she said, "Is it good?" It had barely had time to hit my taste buds, but I said "yes." It was good. The Austin Special may be the best meal the grill serves.

We listened to Elizabeth McQueen play her live music and I ate. Then I took a bathroom break and when I returned we had lots of free desserts. When the bill came my meal was on the house. Three more people apologized.

Delightful. I think I'm going to get the wrong order every time.

Like the magnet?
Attraction is a funny little concept, isn't it? I use some form of it quite often. I saw an attractive woman on the Metro. That's an attractive little car. That movie star is the most attractive of all. What am I really saying? I'm not drawn to the woman on the Metro. I don't feel a pull toward the little car. I do not press my lips against the movie screen (lest they kick me out).

Then when I suddenly feel that tug at my innards like someone is trying to pull them through my rib cage, I remember what attraction is. My friend Rodger always used to argue with me about attractive people. I think what he was trying to say was that calling someone "attractive" isn't the same as calling them "pretty" or "cute" or even "dead sexy"; calling someone attractive is saying that you feel that pull on your innards. It's saying that this person has their own little gravity. It's more like a magnet and less like an adjective.

Sometimes it really is just enough to love and be loved.

Everybody needs a mantra for a pillow
Today when "they" came at me with work-related requests that I didn't want to hear I said, "But I saw dolphins from my hotel window." This stems largely from the fact that I saw dolphins from my hotel window.

Keep your receipts
I bought Christmas Gifts that may not be "up to snuff". In a noble display of character, I did buy things that I thought people would want, rather than things I would want if I had the same taste in stuff, even though I resided in their bodies.

Don't hate me because I'm beautiful
Please.
It's my parents fault.

Did he have a beard?
I did not skinny dip in the Atlantic Ocean. There was a full moon and hotel lights and I was on business, so it seemed unwise. I did strip down to my corduroys and have a dip.

It was cold.

The dolphins didn't seem to think so.

Room service and laundry warmed me up.

thank you.

Suzy Slush
The oft-ignored step-child of Old Man Winter and step-sister of Jack Frost is greying my 'hood. Go get Jack, Suzy. We always liked him better.

Such great heights
is not only the song stuck in my head, but currently, my favorite song. I am as of yet undecided if I like "the postal service" version or the "iron and wine" version better. Having two versions of a favorite song at the same time on the same CD is wonderous. This must be how people felt when they combinded peanut butter and jelly. And I owe it all to the housemate I hardly see- The Sandwich, not to be confused with peanut butter and jelly.

Epic Battles
After a lenghty and mathematical battle the score remains,
Checkbook 1
David 0

You're so gullible, McFly
Ha! I talked myself into a run with that last post. You might have to see it everyday.
Also, Winter is a feeling, not a time between some dates on a calendar. It feels like Winter, therefore,
it is.

Baby, it's cold outside
If this were the winter of '96, and my buddy Borman lived up the street, this is what you might hear on an after-school phone call.
M: Hello?
D: Hey. It's freakin' freezing. Are we running today?
M: whal, I dunno...
D: Come on.
M: (whiney) but it's cold.
D: So? We want to be good, right? Let's go.
M: I don't know.
(Silence)
M: 10 minutes.
D: See you out there.

Instead it's the winter of '03, and this is the after-work discussion in my head.
D: I should run today.
Mr. Negativity: Why?
D: It's good for me.
MN: So?
D: Um.
MN: It's getting dark.
D: Yea.
MN: Run tomorrow.
D: Yea.

I'm much stronger against a real live Mr. Negativity.

Excitement levels
I am not the type of person that gets excited when you first tell me something. I need time to process it. Then slowly, almost like a leaky balloon I begin to let my excitement out.

So when you first ask me, "Are you excited that we're going skiing in 2 months?"
I say, "uh, yeah."

Then what you might not see is the slow leak. First, I replace the "Colorado" on my SKI2BHI bumper sticker with a very homemade "Wintergreen". Then, when I put my Christmas decorations up, 3 of the 5 ornaments are skiing related. When I go outside I smell the air and am a little disappointed when I don't smell snow. How long will I have to wait? And is it snowing in the hills of what Skiing is calling "the best ski resort in the South"? And what exactly does it mean to be the "best ski resort in the South"? Is that kind of like being "the classiest junkyard"?

Do not mistake those last two questions for lack of excitement. I'm a leaking balloon. pfffffffffffff...

Everything looks perfect from far away
When I look at the pictures all I can see are the good times.
When I look in my brain all I can see are the bad times.
It must have been somewhere in between.

Kansas City here I come
I just got back to the District, I know. However, I am now excited about the 27th of December. On that day I will get to meet the new son of Brian and Amanda. I've been friends with Brian since third grade. We created Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle animations using BASIC on an Apple II E. We traded baseball cards. We played street football. We stayed up late. We got in fights. We played tackle Hide 'n' go seek. We talked about everything, as long as everything included sports. We walked to school together. We played video games together. We wrote, produced and starred in a short movie. We went to high school. We went skiing. We imagined a fantasy ski resort called, "Davidsucks" We made different friends. We saw each other less. I ran fast, he hit homeruns. We still talked about everything. We watched football on TV. He got a girlfriend. I went to college. He hit more homeruns. I hurt everything you could hurt below my waist. We played poker with his friends that adopted me when I was home. He came to college. He lived clear on the other side of campus. I had new friends. He made new friends. He was a genius. Once and a while we would meet for a meal. We'd talk about everything. He transferred. He found God. I stayed.
Once a month, once every two months, I'd hear from him. We'd see each other in KC or stop by one campus or the other. We could still talk about everything, but we didn't have to. Now we could talk about anything. I graduated. I didn't get a job. He tried to talk some sense into me. He fell in love. I got a job. He graduated. He had an engagement party. I met his friends. They ruled. He got married. It was beautiful in every sense of the word. He moved to Florida. I wandered about. I moved to DC. I knew he was around. He encouraged me when I was down to the last dimes. I stayed in DC with a job. He had a kid. He disappeared. He reappeared. He is the best.

It's all about the people
There were some people I met in college and they continue to be some of the best people in all the land. It's hard to believe that I could meet such a high concentration of people in the middle of Missouri (especially hard to believe if you live on the East Coast and think that Missouri is a cornfield.) But I did meet a great group of people there and tonight I got to visit with the Adrian,Chris, Kristin, Sarah, Tom, Kella variety. And I love them.

Theories on space and smiling at strangers
After being in the Midwest for 4 days, it occurs to me that there is a lot more space here -- space between cars on the roads, space between houses, space between people shopping. I wonder if this space translates into friendliness. My theory is that because people have enough space to function, because their comfort bubble is not constantly being invaded, they are more welcoming to strangers.

Why do I antagonize my mother?
That's it. I don't know. I'm hoping you do.

misc.
*Kristin and her folks are still delightful.
*Hi Justin, back at you.
*The furniture from as far back as I remember has been replaced.
*90's music and driving in ol' KC are eerily familiar.
*KC "crowded" is DC "light".
*I really like you.

Oy Seuss heirs
What was that?
Cat in the Hat?
More like an SNL skit,
a giant 2 hour bit.
(1 hour and some change,
still long and strange.)
Mike Myers tried much
and the designers had touch.
There were some giggles
and cute childish wiggles,
but for all the colors, bright and shiny
the movie left me sadly whiney.
The plot was less than twisted.
The jokes I must have missted.
Elementary teachers on the other hand,
laughed so hard they split a gland.
They can't wait for friends to tell,
and now I know why the tie-ins sell.

The thankful post
Happy Thanksgiving friends.
I give thanks for-
DSL,
my family,
my friends who help me survive in DC,
and my friends who don't.
sweet potatoes, bike rides with my dad,
grandmas,crisp winter air, snow,
ski trips, business trips, any kind of trips.
Naugahyde, table legs that fit like a charm,
health- yours and mine,
Reuben's cooking, my ability to not burn down the house,
Christmas shopping, town decorations,
pretty girls, public transportation, a job with variety, coworkers that I like and respect,
paychecks and bonuses, creativity, movies that don't suck, etc. etc. etc.

There's a thankful post coming
but for now please endure my momentary and passing disappointment with my existence-
I have not as of yet:
run faster than 4:17.97 over 1600 meters,
become a drummer,
written anything other than this ridiculous blog,
befriended new people in D.C. (a few, but this is my list, not yours),
been to Ben's Chili Bowl,
"worked on my resume",
followed my dream--found my dream for that matter,
taken a shower today,
kicked any bad habits,
lived this day like it was my last,
crowd-surfed,
taken a ride in a hot air balloon,
learned another banjo song,
finished this list.

Prefontaine, postfontaine

Watching the animals
An octupus huddle over her unfertilized eggs,
a cheetah stumble on a rock,
a silverback turn around and glare,
a tiger leap onto and over a wall,
a serval stalk,
children sulk,
an elephant scold,
a panda munch,
and a woman pound on the glass because the ape was rude.

Sure lady, the ape was rude.

Free zoos on chilly November days are very different from the field trips I remember-- lonelier, quieter, and colder.

It almost makes me thirsty thinking about it
Two guys should not have so many stylish drinking glasses. Do I drink from the classy square glass glasses? or the kitchy green goblets? or perhaps the juice glasses with the cute little frog patch? or maybe my dear departed grandma's liquor tumblers? Are those really tumblers, anyway? No? How about the minty green bathroom cups or a good old Shakespeare's cup? A mug is more your style? Big, blue and outdoorsy or delicate and glass?

Support your friendly local farm
wafflemakers.

Maybe Julie didn't realize I was kidding. Then again, maybe I too will donate to julieloveswaffles@hotmail.com. Just because farm-animal shaped waffles sound so gooooood.

You remember lust, don't you?
It rattles around in your brain distracting you from the task at hand. It makes life a little more difficult. You can't quite concentrate on your meal because someone's hand moved 6 cm in your direction. You know- lust. It replaces conversation starters like "how's the weather?" "how are you?" and "hi" with "make-out with me" "Yes, we can cuddle" and "hmm. soft lips." LUST. It makes you just a little crazier than you already were and when you try to avoid it, it just stores itself up so it can hit you even harder the next time.

There you go. Now you remember.

of mice and men, emotionally
Sometimes I feel like Lenny.
Sometimes I feel like the little bunny.

A bar is a bar
Never having been to a "gay bar" before, I figured it would be a strange, even unsettling experience. Not so, my friend. I observed the dance floor for quite a while and saw the same old things- guys pushed up against the walls just kind of leering, guys who obviously wanted to be on the dance floor but were too scared to ask, couples that looked good together, and couples that looked silly. It was all quite familiar. As a bar it still smelled like smoke and alcohol. The only strange part was that at this bar I felt no pressure. There was no one I wanted to dance with. Half the women there were drag queens and the other four weren't my type.

I'm not comfortable in the bar scene, but I was less uncomfortable at this bar than most I've visited. I was still too intimidated to karaoke. One new thing at a time...

At this moment I need two things
1. Art (cool-funky, 70s, eames?) to hang above the Ultra-Lounge.
2. A song to sing when I karaoke.

Maybe not at this exact moment.

Thanks, Sweden
Trying to fuse function, style and wackiness is no easy task. And once again, I think I have managed to just miss. With a little help from IKEA I have raised my "Star Trek coffee table" to the level (figuratively and literally) of "Star Trek kitchen table". Slide a couple of green naugahyde chairs under the "wings" and you've got yourself a regular funky kitchen. I can't stop there, so I have also placed the famous green naugahyde "Ultra-Lounge" couch along the wall and added the bright pink afghan for additional style points. It is both hideous and beautiful. The wall cries out for some green/brown/yellow 70s wall art.

I would also like to thank my carriage housemate Reuben for putting up with my eccentric tastes.

'Tis November
the month of dotopian birth and the year anniversary of making a decent wage at the AARP. That 11th month filled with love and heartbreak often in the same instant. This November I'm returning to KC for some turkey, so if you live there and you're going to be around that weekend of the Pilgrims and Indians and sweet potatoes perhaps we could get together and hug and say, "my, it's been far too long since I saw you last. You look great. I'm glad to see you're so happy. Let's frolic."

Post-It Notes of Quotes
In my stuff I found the following quotes:

-Love. A papercut on my heart. alexander

-We are never so defenceless against suffering as when we love, never so helplessly unhappy as when we have lost our loved object or its love. freud

-Love is desire for possessions. Courtship is combat, mating is mastery. nietzche

-Love is expensive and it's free. fastball

-Love is Happy Poison. ball

-I found what I don't care about, and it's everything. dalke

Had pie been delivered to my door,
my 5 p.m. prayers would've been answered.

Julie, people. Not Kiera.

At least I can make her eyes twinkle
I may have been a touch disappointed by the photo gallery at loveactually.com but the twinkling made it ok.

I want pie. And I miss Julie.

Go on. Have a sip.
Better than a bourbon and sassier than sassafrass, she's joined the masses- It's time for a refreshing spoonful of Temporary Wisdom. I need it on your link list ASAP, so I can get my dose everyday.

Two lovely thumbs up
I liked Love Actually.
After all it had,
-Kiera. Ah Kiera. So beautiful. So British.
-Hugh grant dancing.
-Romance
-love
-heartbreak
-ridiculously cute children
-a brilliant cast
-laughs
-cute women in addition to the aforementioned Knightley.
-very funny, charming blokes.
-I think she starred in Pirates of the.... and Bend it like...someone

What? I'm not biased.

I want to leave knowing you are better off than when I came
said my mom.
Well, I certainly have more than when you came, so by America's standards I must be better off.
I replied.

Come home, roomie
I'm afraid that my parents have scared poor little Reuben away.

Mental image for U
It looks like a monster came to my house and vomited all my material possesions.

Last of the Mohicans got me thinking that I want to love passionately and die honorably.
Instead I am going to blog obsessively and cry the tears that don't fall.

The sound of taking the stairs as fast as you can is one of the best sounds in the world. You get that rhythm going thump, thumpthumpthumpthump......thump, thumpthumpthumpthump......thumpding, thumpthumpthumpthump... with gaps when you jump the last two steps and the occasional ring of a whacked banister. It feels so good to just attack the descent. You really start to feel it in your quads and shins and your little wingtips are smacking the steps as fast as they can go. And even if it hurts a little bit, you don't care because not only are you getting somewhere fast, but you're doing it with child-like zeal.

Old man sitting on the front porch

In my day we didn't have weblogs. We used journals and we only wrote in them when we had something to say. None of this willy-nilly sissy stuff about feelings and the like. Why, I bet Thomas Jefferson is rolling over in his grave with you kids and your pursuit of happiness. When I was young if we wanted happiness, we WORKED FOR IT. It didn't come on a stinkin' silver platter. You kids today are so spoiled with your DSL and your fancy smancy Interent. If Al Gore was dead, he'd be rolling over in his grave knowing what you've done to the web. Your high speed access doesn't impress me a lick. Why you just waste more time in more places without tying up the phone lines. When I was a kid we could tie up the phone lines for 15 minutes and that was that. We weren't carrying on with our abbreviated "Instant Message conversations" or our "electronic mail". We got mail the old fashioned way- never at all, unless Grandma sent us a card by the U.S. Postal Service. And we got our phone calls at one number because that's all anybody had. And people memorized those numbers. So, DO NOT think for a moment that I am about to abandon the "wire" phone, as NPR has taken to calling the good old fashioned phone service. I don't care what number you can put with your cell phone; I don't want one of those dadgummed things flubbin' up my life. If you can't get in touch with me, maybe you should just wait . I'm bound to come home sometime. That's what we used to do and we got along just fine. Better than fine, because we didn't have all those silly people chattering to themselves on our streets, or if we did we knew they belonged at the asylum. (grumble, grumble, grumble.)

Pee Wee's Wonderful Italian Wedding of Doom
Context, Schmontext, I always say.

Post script in blogger becomes a pre script
I like my 'rents. I'm excited to see them. I'm just nervous. He's nervous and he's got New York City. I've just got the D of C. Which is slighty more exotic than the KC, but not much under my direction. I would like to get to the Escalator and moving sidewalk exhibit. I hear it rises above expectations and whisks you to new heights. I did hear that some of the sections were downers, however, I'm sure it is all quite moving.

The 'rents are coming. The 'rents are coming.
Take cover.

What should we do?
If you deal in people, you've probably had some variation of the "What should we do?" conversation. I find that one of three things usually happen at the end of this conversation.
1. One person is really happy with the answer.
2. Everyone is at least sort of agreeable to the answer.
3. No one is happy with the answer.

Last night, after a long and not too wordy debate, the answer to the above question was, "Watch something."
But what? After going through the video/dvd collection the parties involved were able to narrow the field down to 4 finalists. In no particular order we agreed that we would be willing to watch one of these:
-Coming to America
-Notting Hill
-Pulp Fiction
-Buffy, some episode(s) of the first 4 seasons

We found the variety to be quite amusing.

It's a wacked out exercise in dotopian demographics

This forward has been making the rounds recently. It's a little twist on the old "tell me about you" email; it's a tell me about me email. I'm throwing in a Twist on top of the twist because that's what I do. I'm not sure it makes any sense, but the twist is that I'm going to tell you, Do Topia reader, about yourself-- but I'm skipping some of the questions, you'll have to fill those in yourself.

1. name:
2. Where did we meet? College, unless you are my aunt or Kristin's mom and then I'm not sure where we met.
3. Take a stab at my middle name: Ann- that should cover a couple.
4. How long have you known me? 6 years or less; or 25 years if you are my aunt.
5. When is the last time we saw each other? Yesterday or about 1.5 years ago- that covers most of you.
6. Do I smoke? No.
7. Do I believe in God? Mostly
8. When you first saw me what was your impression? That's the best looking/hottest/funkiest/coolest/wackiest person I've ever seen. I want to be his/her friend.
9. Month of my Birthday? November 8th if you're The Royer. Is that right? Shouldn't someone call him?
10. Color hair? mostly brown
11. Color eyes? blue
12. Do I have any siblings? yes, unless you are Kristin or the birthday boy.
13. Have you ever had a crush on me? um YEA!
14. Have you ever been jealous of me? just a little.
15. What's one of my favorite things to do outdoors? Throw the disc with Dave.
16. What's one of my fav. things to do indoors? cuddle up with Dave.
17. Do you remember one of the 1st things I said to
you? "Hi"
18. What's my favorite type of music? loud

There were more questions, but I'm bored with this exercise. I'm quitting now. You're welcome.

It's gloomy out
and in.

Televised? I can't even find the revolution.
I was to see the Matrix Revolution tonight. I was looking for resolution to the revolution. I didn't make it. I went to the wrong theater, and then when I realized it was the wrong theater I went toward the right one, but couldn't find it. I spent somewhere in the neighborhood of $15 on a movie I still haven't seen. What with Metro rides, phone calls, tickets, and food I might as well have downloaded it off the Internet and then paid a lawyer for defense against those anti file-sharing people. Now that would've been revolutionary.

A poem of futility
Video games and Internets have replaced the idiot box.
I'm stuck in a sinkhole of shirking responsibility.
The banjo and a new book could be my freedom,
but I digress, for I really need to sew on some buttons.

Is this my alter ego?
Dystopian blogspot .

No.

Not love, actually,
but the day was filled with other emotions. In fact, you might say it was quite an emotional day. This was caused by, my "business proofreading class". In it I found out that I am not using commas correctly. I'm not using them incorrectly regularly, but I should be using them more often (or always) to separate independent clauses with a conjunction. Also I should be using them in lists to eliminate confusion. For instance I should say, "This is a fine list containing peaches, your mom, eight robots, and a slice of rhubarb pie." This way you know that ruhbarb pie and eight robots are distinct. I didn't know I felt strongly about commas, but I was feeling quite defensive.

Further emotions sprung forth at my unveiling. You can call Coach, Super Dave, Safari Dave, Who is Dave?, or any other name you see fit as I take to guiding the Catholic University Ultimate players. They were fired up and already playing better, so I am looking forward to this challenge.

Is hungy an emotion? 'Cause I'm that too. Also, I'm now ticked because I've edited this post 3 times. Let it go.

However, I fear that this is not the height of lameness
For the past two nights, those being the traditional party nights of Friday and Saturday, I have barely been able to function past 11 p.m. In fact at around 9:30 on each of those nights I have begun to look around for the clock thinking, "my God, it must be like 1 a.m." It isn't.

You've already heard some mention of the Halloween goings-on and figured that surely things would get settled down as the weekend progressed. And settle down they did. Last night I went to what can only be called "Spectacle of the Baby". Proud Aunt Monika had us over to meet Shan, pronounced like Shaun (poor kid). We watched him for something like 2 hours. And I do mean watched. There was lots of baby talk and bouncing up and down. It was not as much fun as it sounds. Although, I took my turn holding him and admit that it might have been the highlight of my weekend, but please don't tell the other twenty-somethings. They expect a lot more drunkenness and wild outings that last past 11. Frankly, so do I. I'm just too tired to partake.

This is the coolest
No wonder Columbia was a hot spot for the Pop/Soda/Coke debate
Thanks to J-Dub

Happy Holloween
Halloween was particularly unsettling, here are some possible reasons why:
-Rob was a very ugly Ringwraith.
-Kim was a disturbing Reuben.
-My sweet tooth never really kicked in.
-I couldn't escape the feeling of my impending doom as November approached.
-various other events that my team of lawyers has asked that I not discuss.

It's possible that Clare and I are one and the same. We're like Clark Kent and Superman. I mean, really, have you ever seen the two of us in the same place? (I realize that 3/4 of my readership is now loudly exclaiming "YES!", but that other 1/4 is thinking, "hmmm. now that you mention it..." Please don't ruin it for them, or me.)

More signs that I'm getting older
*"Checking out" a woman now involves a look to the ring finger.
*"Checking out" now involves a woman (as opposed to a girl, see.)
*If you ask for my contact information I'll give you a business card.
*I pick up cleaning supplies and side dishes on my commute from work.
*I intend to use said cleaning supplies and said side dishes.
*I have been asked to help out as a "coach" for an Ultimate team because of my many years of experience.
*I listen to NPR more, trust the government less and wonder if I have the proper asset allocation.

What's the return policy?
There's a "Big Sale" at the tattoo parlor near my house. I was going to check it out but the barbershop with Internet access distracted me.

I can't even spell bischotti
I attempted a roast last night. I'll pretend it's a blur and say I know there was bleeding (uncooked meat''ll do that) and there were nearly tears. There was definitely cursing. I remember the rice had to become an appetizer for the pizza. Eventually I got the hunk of meat done, but by then it was too late. On the bright side, I have a whole roast waiting for me tonight.

Your money or you life? Blog Post April 15, 1948
Did you hear Bing Crosby on the Jack Benny Show last night? Hilarious.
"Your money or your life?" says the robber.
"I'm thinking!" says Benny.

Matter and antimatter
What happens when all your friends get blogs? And they talk about their blogs and the relationships of those blogs and pretty soon blogs become another topic of conversation like politics, or mating or sports. And so in addition to group dynamics you now have blog dynamics. What happens when you realize that reading your friends' blogs is not something you want to do on a regular basis because it turns out that maybe you really didn't want to be in their head because on paper they sound lots different or not different enough or because it freaks you out a little that they really can't remember to eat. How can that be when you're hungry right now and you just ate massive amounts of chicken and biscuits? And maybe it's hard on you because now all of your blog stories are off limits or have significantly less impact because everyone has already read them. Then what? I don't have that much to say usually and so if I blog about something and then don't get to talk about it, what's left?
And what happened to Paul that he would call it weird to meet someone whose blog you read? Which by the way I took as a warning of sorts.
My head probably won't explode, but it's getting closer

The weekend and other grand illusions are here
I'll start a publishing company with Clare and others if need be.
Here's to jobs.
Maybe I should go out for dinner tonight.
Yea. And start work on my Halloween costume.
I'm going to be the best cardboard box Ent ever. this year. in a 2 mile radius.

The reruns
Please refer to November 25, 2002 7:39 am. I'm still smiling. Also too lazy to link it there.

Grounded
I am on pace to eat ground beef at 7 meals this week. So much for the Time article on eating healthy.
At least I had yogurt for breakfast. AH. More cow!

this is a broken record
tears don't fall
a broken record
I've heard it all
This is
a broken record

To make a short story long
I've used this and the new expression "Life is Burritoful" (Thanks Chipotle) far too many times in the last 4 days. The funny thing is I almost never manage to make my short stories long. I can barely manage to make my long stories long. I think this is why people figure I'm a good listener. Little do they realize that I'm just trying to string together enough words to make it a "conversation" when they take their next breath.
I'm an ok listener, but Life is Burritoful.

Fate strikes again
For the second time in a year the Ultimate team I left is going to Nationals. Last spring it was Leadbelly of Ohio State heading to Texas and now the Mixed team Flicks of Fury is on its way to Florida. It is hard for me to be too down about this because I know in both cases I did the right thing. I came to D.C. rather than languish in grad school and I quit a team that I didn't enjoy. Part of growing up is making decisions like this. I am a wizened twenty-something unencumbered by the glory of National Ultimate. Or some would say, I am a fool. I can only hope that my opportunities have not passed me by, like so many...Cubs.

Blue is my favorite color
I've got a new GQ work shirt. It's dead sexy. It just looks like 4 other shirts I own if you view it from more than 1.5 meters away.
So come closer.

Are you in the zone?
(insert pre-teen screams here)
Madonna and Britney Spears have a new song out!
When you combine those two together you get one of the hottest 64-year olds EVER.
You also get little else.

Thought bubbles in my comic strip
-I don't look as good in pictures as I used to.
-Winning isn't everything. Maybe I am just a glory-hungry, selfish Ultimate player.
- My feelings on the kind of book that Lamb: The Gospel according to Biff, Jesus' Childhood pal was best summed up by the author in the last section when he said that he certainly took some liberties with history to add to the story but for this book he felt it was a good thing to do because he really needed to answer the question, "What would Jesus have been like if he had known kung-fu?"
-I think there is a market for a Real Simple for men. Then again maybe that's just the metrosexual in me rearing its head.
-"You go girl" has lost a lot of its oomph.

My real life and my bloguniverse are on a collision course: An advertisment
Identical cousins is good for a laugh.
Just like therapy is good for all of you practicing psychiatrists.

When you read the title of this post please pronounce advertisment like it is spelled. I think that will add the sophistication that this post might otherwise lack.
Thank you for your cooperation.

And speaking of family...
AARP and I must be siblings because my parents are retired teachers and AARP's parent is retired teachers (NRTA). Not only that, but I too have the power to make it better. Then again, so do you. Maybe we're all one big family dodging furry twinkies in this zany little game called life.
Come on, let's have a big group hug

Beware of the Furry Twinkies
Talk about strange emails. My cousin Kelly, who likes to center her emails and use multiple colors anyway, just wrote me an email that involved at least three references to Furry Twinkies. Not just any Furry Twinkies either, these desserts were flying and quite dangerous, I assume by the number of times she told me to DUCK. This might seem especially odd to some people, but I think there is a little furry Twinkie in all my relatives.

Consider
There are over 500,000 people my age (25-34) in D.C. according to USA Today.
75% of men in D.C. are bisexual according to two girls in a bar.
Dancing may prevent the onset of Alzheimers' according to some study somewhere.
I am a better dancer by myself than with a partner according to Kim.

All of that together leads me to believe that I should be able to find someone (man or woman) my age to dance with in this town and if I do, it could make my later years more productive, but if I don't find anyone to dance with I'll dance better anyway.

Dear Silly Boy
Shut up and leave me alone.
You annoy me.

-Love

P.S. Please stop calling me late at night.

Dear Love,
I'm not looking for you. I'm looking for me.

-Silly boy

P.S. It's hard to admire you from afar if you sit so close.

I'm bloggin the suburbs
Things I have to say about New York and my experiences near:
-The city is huge. It's not like I'm coming from Idalia, Colorado here. I took the train from Washington D.C. New York makes D.C. feel down home.
-My Aunt and Uncle spoil me. The only times I ever have warm breakfasts are in this joint.
-Phantom of the Opera has too much opera. I realize this exposes my uncultured underbelly once and for all, but give me tap dancing anyday. I will grant the second act is superior to the first.
-Broadway shows are nifty. We should go to one.
-Kate Beckinsale in Serendipity- Yummy.
-I have got to get out. There are people all around and some of them look interesting.

Blog on.

Thanks Blogs
The wonderful world of blogs has lead me to my second reunion of real people --this one in the Big Apple. Anne and Paul took me to Scruffy McDuffy's and Doyles and the Staten Island Ferry last night. And it was blogs that kept me in touch. Because of this wacky technology I knew that neither had gone off the deep end. Good people change, grow up (Ladies- that Pauly not shore is 2nd only to Taye Diggs) but they stay good people.

Thanks AARP
For sending me to Jersey. It was not New Orleans. It was not Nashville. It's only redeeming quality was that the volunteers I help support are amazing.

I always knew I liked accents
Taking Clare and Aaron's advice I watched the British Coupling last night and the word I repeated most often was "DUMBFOUNDED" as in "I am dumbfounded". How could NBC screw up so much? Using virtually the same script (of course removing several of the funnier bits) NBC has taken a funny show and made it awkward, uncomfortable and dirty. Just like my new bed, except for the uncomfortable part. But man is it dirrty, me-OW.

There’s no place like home

Last Saturday I piled my stuff into a car and a half and moved it across town to my new place where with some assistance I managed to plop it into the room in under 20 minutes. 2 days and no furniture later my stuff still looks rather plopped. The Carriage House, as we like to call it, is taking shape quite nicely because Reuben owns everything you could ever need.



I’ve already managed to have two near-disasters resulting from our new appliances. Are toilets appliances? The toilet scare resulted from IHOP omelets and the lack of a plunger. It’s amazing what a stick from the yard can do. The second scare was caused by a brand new oven. It turns out that you should not cook or even preheat your instruction book. We checked the warm instruction book after peeling off the melted plastic and no where in the book does it say “Don’t cook me”. Still, I don’t recommend it. The house smelled funny for a while, but the PastaBake tasted fine.

Stay tuned for more adventures in bachelorhood.

No wonder I'm single
I sat through half an hour of NBC's new sitcom "Coupling" last night. I thought a good night's sleep might put things in perspective. Sleep just heightened my distaste. This show was bad. I think my roommate liked it (not Reuben, I move tomorrow). That frightens me. What if others felt the same way? What if they aren't already planning a mid-season replacement? The characters were so vapid. All of the marginally funny stuff was in the commercials. At least this way I can shut the TV off right after "Scrubs". I'll get my "Good Morning Miami" (I can't believe that show is back. I thought I was the only one that could stand to watch it) fix after the "Gilmore Girls" on Tuesday. I don't like "Will and Grace" anymore anyway. Looks like this TV season is shaping up to be another fine one.

I thought I was sick of TV. I guess not. I will be in December. Just wait.

The book of Lego
Wow. Even The Royer never did this with his little blocks. Although I have no doubt that he could've.

Doin' it Stuckeyville style
Yes, I was happy when Ed and Carol finally heard my chants of "Bowling Alley Sex" that began somewhere around the halfway point of the episode. No, I'm not happy that this show has to die. And no, clasped hands is not my favorite visual representation of sex. I don't know what is right now, but that's not it.

Stop being polite and start being jealous
The Real Worlders were snowboarding in Switzerland and I had to turn off the TV or else I was going to run into my room, grab my board and leave the country.

The question is,"Why not coffee?"
At Starbucks yesterday I decided that I could have a Vanilla Creme Flappychino. The tall $3 treat was like sipping Vanilla air with the occasional chunk. At least it was until I got to the whipped cream. Then it was like sipping air and fat through a straw. Which leads me back to my initial question.

You're not the boss of me now
My boss returned from 2 months of sick leave today. It was really great for at least 10 minutes. Mostly it was odd. She was asking me to do things that I was already doing and have been doing for about 2 months now. She was way out of the loop and I can barely remember how to fill her in. I really like her though. I'm glad she's back.

The Battle at Materialism Crossing
I'm moving next week and all my things are nearly boxed up. Everything I've been living with for more than a year can fit crammed inside a '92 Saturn. I want to throw half of it away, but I want to buy furniture too. Something has to give. Since I need a bed and I want the UltraLounge I'll probably keep the rest of the junk.

What Would Elvis Do?
Maybe I am all shook up. Uh-huh.

My dear sweet
Isabel, violent windy Isabel, thanks for sparing me. You did take out my cable, but that's only 'cause you love me.

Could it be?
I was just invited to a party via evite. The party isn't far from here, but I swear I have no idea who the host is. Am I a bad, forgetful friend? Am I out partying and blacking out? Do I lead a double life?

Stop with the lies
-I wish Michaella would stop changing her birth date.
-The most beautiful two days possibly ever and tomorrow it all gets blown away. How can it be?

For those of you that thought time was standing still
More reports of high school classmates getting married and having babies. Zany.
Me- I'm a happy 5th wheel, with a garter in my back pocket.

The storm, she iza comin'.

Oh no
Oh blargh is dead. Sad.

Oh yea
It's Kella's birthday. Happy birthday to her.

Ewww.
I painted "Just married" on the Smiths' cars. My thinking in choosing the red marker was red=hearts=love. After the marker/paint stuff ran it looked more like red=blood=psycho thriller.

Where can I find a theory like that?
It is my belief that "Stacy's mom" is the same woman as "Jesse's girl". It may seem odd, but I think that J's girl is all grown up now. She has a daughter and she is once again inspiring music. Quite a woman.
This is only conjecture at this point, though I am searching for evidence. I do not however see any reason to believe that Jesse is Stacy's dad. Even the romantic in me will not allow such whimsy.

so afraid that what I'll find might be what I deserve
I can't escape the pull of my television. I know there are things to do; things I want to do, but I just can't get it together. I'm like my new Zippo (registered trademark). I'm shiny and pretty on the outside and I get a spark or two, but there's no fuel-- man. I've got to get some fuel so the fire will burn, man. It's all about the fuel.

"So afraid that what you'll find, won't be what you deserve."
It's about that time of year again. School would've started if I was into that sort of thing. I'd be meeting new people and starting to crush so I'd be primed by the time my November "love cycle" was ready to roar in.
Instead there's no school, minimal new people. So, I start thinking about new jobs, new places, new stuff in general. Moving across town will calm me for a bit, but will it be enough for the winter? Perhaps if I couple that with some of those personal goals I can head into another year. One of those goals is to get out and experience more of DC- more museums, shows, big city life. They don't call me Big City for nothing. Nobody calls me Big City anymore. Then again, nobody knows why I got that nickname in the first place. So they do call me Big City for nothing. Or they did. That's not the point!

A moment to reflect
Two of my friends from high school are getting married (Justin Shaw and Nick Wills in case you're keeping tabs). Congrats to them. The engagement announcement mentions that they are both account executives at fairly large Ad/Pr Agencies in KC. In no way does the following statement intend to demean their achievements: Perhaps I did not fully exhaust the agency job market in KC or anywhere else for that matter.
I'm reflecting, are you?

That's the spirit
I just found out that the Ultimate team I joined last winter for a tourament in Edinboro, PA won the spirit award for that tournament. Nice guys do finish last, but get a reward months later. Way to go CUltimate! (I'm still amused that a Catholic School would name their team Cultimate and not see the irony.)

Post-vacation stress disorder
I know it's only been two days, but I'm really lonely since I got home from vacation. And really, how big of a complaint can that be when I put in a 12 hour night of sleep last night?
Amanda is doing her best from Holland to fix things and my lunches with Trang have been especially nice, but the Metro rides home and the actual being home have been less than stellar. Groceries might be the cure. Stay tuned.

Happy Birthday to my sister!

It's kinda ok to be back
Wisconsin treated me well. Families, even those that aren't mine and friends are quite nice. After a day to reflect here's what I know.
-I miss Mr. and Mrs. Smith. Freaky.
-Wind surfing is easy, as long as the wind changes directions on cue.
-The line between joke and truth can get blurry.
-Dancing rules. Especially: riding the pony and fake ballet.
-Skinny dipping may not be for every one, but I don't know why not.
-DO NOT, I repeat, DO NOT be so stupid as to make negative comments about the fit of a bridesmaid's dress.
-You'd think I would have known this already.
-Eat at Al Johnson's. They have Swedish Pancakes to die for and goats on the roof.
-I love Margo and Rodger.
-Margo and Rodger drive me crazy.
-Karyn is hot.
-Even if you stand very very still sometimes you still have to catch the garter.
-The Gilmore Girls are crazy. Not the ones on TV. These girls are crazier.
-The Milky Way is a beautiful beautiful thing.
-So is Door County Wisconsin.
-So was the wedding. Beautiful. So much love.

I love the convenience of Barnes and Noble
I'm confused by the mating rituals of the homosexual male.
I worry about committing to a new lease.
I'm excited to have a home for the UltraLounge and matching naugahyde chairs.
I know you're jealous.

Ain't no cure
Don't get me wrong, I'm enjoying my 9 day weekend. It just feels like it needs a jumpstart; which is funny because my car needs the same thing. I think what this weekend really needs is Wisconsin. So I'm going tomorrow. I've got to make like a groomsman. See the ol' college gang. Eat at a Fish Boil and if all goes well-- watermelon polo.

Haunting memories
Every time I work out, go for a run, etc. I end up feeling the way I did at Districts in the 2-mile so long ago. It feels like I need to reach inside and drag myself along by my intestines. Only now, there's nothing to fight for except "fitness". And I've always disliked fitness for fitness sake. It's time for a goal.

Superlatives be damned
Two of my best friends are getting married in 9 days. I don't know what to say on the card. I don't know what to say in a toast. I don't even know when to deliver the gift. You'd think I'd get this wedding thing down by now.

That Little Jimmy Dickens!
I went to the Grand Ol' Opry with Dori and two co-workers. The great thing about Tuesday night at the Opry is that it's a smorgasbord of country music. Before I could get too tired of any one performer they were replaced by another. Yee haw.

Jumbo Inflate Monkey meets funny hats
I think the fact that I live in a "hip, happening town" but went to Laurel, MD for a bachelor party tells you a lot about my friends and me. The title of this post probably tells you the rest. There was a monkey incident, but it got resolved. Don't be concerned.

I'm one of those people
I have bailed on an Ultimate tournament to take care of other stuff. You can call it a new low or a new high, but no matter what you call it- I have very mixed feelings on the issue.

the frog king a love story by adam davies
Is it good? you might ask me. And I would not know how to answer. Yes. It did make me squirm on the edge of passing out, but you could too if you knew what buttons to push. Sure it has left me feeling very empty and alone, feeling like this wasn't just "a love story" but rather just a few drunken tweaks from "my love story". Is that good? I don't know. Maybe it's time to face that every story doesn't have a happy ending. Surely you've already faced that. Surely. I have and stop calling me Shirley. Or at least I thought I had. I wanted to cry but I don't know how. It didn't make me cry; it just took me to the edge and left a little hole in what? my stomach? my heart? I don't know. Was it good? I guess so. Am I good? I don't know.

Oh yea?
Human touch is underrated.

Got Blech?
It's like my milk is flat or something. It's not sour, but it's still gross. I continue to have bad experiences with milk here. This is causing increasing levels of anxiety in my life.

I'm not afraid of Americans
If you want to read blogs from other countries be up at 5 AM. All those Aussies and Brits are posting about breakfast. WHY AM I UP?

Who is your Big Bad VooDoo Daddy?
At one point I had much anticipated the follow-up to the self-titled BBVDD album that propeled that swing craze (which will return, I swear.) That anticipation died down some 2.5 years ago. Four long years after that first album my favorite swingers have returned to Save my Soul.
Alas, this album is heavy on the VooDoo and light on the Big and Bad. It has a couple swell tunes in the middle “Simple Songs and “Next Week Sometime”, but those are mixed in with a number of tunes that sound a whole lot like the songs from 4 years ago. Perhaps BBVDD thought we’d forget ‘cause they’d been gone so long, but you don’t forget catchy songs like “Me and You and The Bottle Makes Three Tonight.”
Scotty Morris still makes me want to put on my fedora, drink my moonshine and find myself a flapper and Glen “The Kid” Marhevka still blows a mean trumpet, but if BBVDD swings through this town I’ll be there for the nostalgia and not the “zig zaggity woop woop.”

Ultimate. My drug of choice.
I've never been drunk, but a hangover has got to feel just like this.

Barbie and the flesh-eater
Any story that involves eating steak without utensils and a date with a Barbie model has to be good. And it was. Ask Rob's cousin the next time you see him.

Scott and his scoopability
Do topia apologizes to readers (my mom) who were uncomfortable with Scott and his scoopability. I would like to point out that there was a disclaimer.

The 2 Q's
1. Is it actually possible to forget that Rob D. is turning 25 this week?
2. What if the Hokey-pokey is really what it's all about?

flies with honey
If you say something nice to me I am better able to overlook all the yelling you did at me this weekend, maybe even consider the message in the yelling. Funny how compliments will do that.

The look
If I did scoop up Scott* because he meets the requirements, then we would move on to the next phase. In the next phase if I decided I liked Scott and I really wanted to connect with him I would look at him. It wouldn't be any look, it'd be that look that starts from the back of my head that tries to tie a cord between us emotionally, physically, maybe even spirtually. It's that look of longing, of possibility, of connectivity. The one that pierces his eyes and tries to draw him in.

That's the look to avoid.

*The scoopability of Scott and my desire or lack of desire to scoop Scott up is not the issue here. Please focus, people. He's the only volunteer I had.

By the numbers
7players starting our Savage 7 Tourney
5players left when we gave up
2knee injuries
3wins
1loss
200fluid ounces of liquid I consumed today
60minutes ago I should have gone to bed
.5jerks on the team
1.5times I nearly(?) lost my cool responding to Mr. Loudmouth
At least 2teammates who had played at Worlds
1guys named Boozer from Wyoming that I happened to know.
Severalthings I learned about myself: I'd rather lose and have fun than win and be shouted at; If I find a gal and get her to play Ultimate I hope I treat her better than the people I saw today. A great captain is a rare thing indeed. Every time I play with a new team I learn to appreciate Renny MacKay all over again.

I have the strange desire to scoop someone up. Anyone, really, someone smaller who smells nice would be best.

It bothers me
-that the next logical step after losing your virginity is a wedding. At the very least that makes American Pie2 a complete waste.
-that our leader is celebrating the death of two men and our news organizations are excited about tracking down their father.
-that cows had to die to make leather dividers for someone's presentation.
-that I ate two donuts at a meeting with the IRS.
-to spell doughnuts. Either way.

To be filed under "huh?"
*I tried to MASH and my connection went out. Now that's fate. Sorry Rob. Huh?
*Not two hours after my cubicle neighbor received flowers from her boyfriend she asked me to watch the movie we missed last week. Huh?
*BBQ SPAM is actually good cold and hot. Somehow the BBQ must soak up the disgusting SPAM pus. No verdict yet on SPAM&cheese. Huh?
*The licorice fish are coming. The licorice fish are coming. YES!

The Biscuit is good
The book has the details, but the movie captures the essence.

Somewhere along the line
it started to mean a little less. Is that good or is that bad?

On crushes
Thanks to Kristin for the much needed boost. I had a crush on her too. 'Course I had a crush on Justin as well. Is it a crush if it still lasts 2 years later?

And in other Justin news
Word on the street is that Justin Poirot, former FARCer, movie maker, and my neighbor for 2 years, is going to get married. Congrats to him.

It's like fight club
And not just because of the punches. It seems that the rule is don't mention the "date". All knowledge from the "date" is acceptable knowledge, but the actual "date" may not have even happened. Perhaps I dreamed the whole thing, like I dreamed my own suffocation last night- only more pleasant.

Film at 11
The boyfriend shoe dropped today and I feel like a super-schmuck. It's partly because I feel like maybe I should've seen it coming. I obviously thought last night was more of a date than it must have been. It's not such a big deal that it wasn't, really.

Still, I feel like a schmuck even more because of the way the elements of a "date" change me and my perceptions. I treated this girl differently because I thought I was on a date. I opened more doors, I picked up the check, I tried to impress her. I tried to make it more than it was because in my head it was a date. Why? Here's a sweet girl without many DC friends who wants to hang out and a part me isn't sure that's enough. The other part of me is kicking that part and saying, "Hey super-schmuck, friends rule. Why do you have to get so carried away?"
Yea. 2nd part. Yea.

The Postman doesn't ring
I had a date tonight. The first "first-as in I don't know you, you don't know me" date I've had in I'd say 6 years. Sweet girl, pretty smile. I'm a sucker for the smile. I work with her. We went out to dinner and were going to see "The Postman Always Rings Twice" out on the mall. The conversation was ok. She talked a lot about dogs and food. I listened. I chimed in where I could. I'm not a great conversationalist, but I listen. Everything was nice. Then a storm started brewing, but a migraine headache sent us packing first. So we left as the movie began. She said it wasn't the company and I believe her. Even if it wasn't true, I have to believe her.

Public Transportation throws a whole new wrinkle into dating. Where is the ending point? Is it returning the girl safely to her car? Is it at the logical seperation point? I behaved like a gentleman and offered to escort her to her car. It's a big city. It's late at night. She declined, not surprisingly. So then the date ends when the Metro arrives. No lingering in the doorway or the car. This doorway closes in 15 seconds and says "Doors Closing" and means it. That's a tough way to end a first date, or any date if I remember correctly.

I'm dealing with all of this when the final blow lands. THE GOOD NIGHT PUNCH. Just a soft little jab to the shoulder and a "see you tomorrow." The good night punch may be the hardest punch there is. Soft punch to the shoulder followed by the heart dropping to the toes. I couldn't end on a good night punch, even with "Doors Closing" seconds away. So I reached out and gave a hand squeeze. A vastly superior move to the good night punch, if I do say so myself. It salvaged the moment, but the effects of the good night punch linger on.

Ok. Ok. I'll ask.
In case you were wondering the high school girls are in Ocean City, MD. So is the finest in all pre-post modern architecture.
And so is the sea. Ah the sea. I never got the sea the way I got the mountains, but I still enjoy a nice visit to the beach now and again. Yesterday was now and again. Ah the sea.

BANJ-woe
I went to tune my banjo and I made it sound significantly worse.
My harmonica didn't help. So I played them together.

What do you do when the wizards are gone?
For a few days there I was lost in Harry Potter. I went to bed reading Potter, dreamed Potter and had breakfast with Potter.
There are other wizards. I attended a meeting with some bigwigs. The scene reminded me of the Sauron/Gandalf battle in Lord of the Rings. We were on the top floor of the building around this shiny wooden table, dark enough to be stone and though Mt. Doom wasn't on the horizon, the looks people around the table were giving each other were viscious. I was waiting for someone to pull a wand or shoot fire or something. It all ended amiably. Maybe next time.

It's a what?
Tonight I experienced Fondue. For the uninitiated that's a French word for pricey pieces of food that you should skewer and stick in hot bubbling goo. 4 courses and 3 hours after it started I was still stuffing my face with anything I could dip in chocolate. At one point I think I was poking at the table to pick up crumbs just so I'd have something else to scoop up the chocolate with. I've never been so stuffed in my life. And the best part was it all came pre-cut. This stuff is better than having the crust cut off of a Mom pb&j. It's also nine thousand times more expensive. NINE THOUSAND. I am unable to do anything else that costs money in the month of July. Unless I go to a matinee of Pirates of the Carribbean. I can surely take that from the August budget.

I'll be your pirate
I say, "AYE! July 9th is Curse of the Black Pearl Day!" The movie has laughs, swordfights, wacky Johnny Depp and lovely swashbuckling Kiera Knightley. It's lots better than you'd expect. Worth every penny of the 9 dollars I paid for it. I might even see it again. ' Course it does have my bonnie lass in it.

The Italian Biscuit
I saw The Italian Job today. It wasn't very Italian. If making Mini's and tanktops sexy was the Job, then Charlize Theron did it. Unfortunately for all the twists and turns this movie tried to give me, it all ended up on a pretty straight and narrow path. Save your money for 2 more days, 'cause Kiera's coming!

I also saw a preview for Seabiscuit. Read the book. Read the book. READ THE BOOK! I was thinking that Seabiscuit might make a great movie because the book is a real kick. It looks like Spiderman and Hollywood just might mess up an awesome tale. The book doesn't have music, but I've got a hunch it's got a lot the movie is missing. I'm trying not to judge too harshly, but let's say that my hopes are diminished. And for those of you who want to dust off the ol' library card, read the book.

Progress as promised
Better than a MoDot highway, I'm getting better picking my ol' banjo everyday. It's neat to get better at something.

My new toy...
is a banjo. YEE haw.

As promised,
Why I love the Folk-life Festival
Banjos, banjos, banjos! I've seen more banjo players at this festival than I've ever seen in my life. I hear that banjo players spend half of their time playing out of tune and the other half tuning. A fiddler told me that.

Playing civil war songs, a large African American liberal spouting off against Bush and ignorance, was dwarfed by his thin, sweet-voiced Native American partner WAILING on the harmonica. I mean WAILING.

If that juxtaposition wasn't enough, I saw the sexiest upright bass player I've ever seen, imagined even. Sorry Dave Hall and Jim Widner.
She was pleasantly plump, down-home as could be and dead sexy. Not only could she play the bass, but her voice was beautiful.

I did take a break to eat a Scottish delicacy, Fofar Bridie, I believe, and find my family tartan.

And today I found out that a violin and an accordion can make some of the most sorrowful sounds I've ever heard.

I might just go back tomorrow and see what else I can discover.

Mind spinning
I have so much to post I think my head is going to explode. I think I'll break it down and only give responses for now. I'll come back later with a "Why I love the Folk-life Festival".

#1. You should all know that I was one point away from being able to marry Clare according to the fabulous quiz. I think I lost some serious points due to material concerns that I rarely possess. You just can't be a metrosexual if you don't care much about clothes or hair. I also lost a point or two because Frisbees in quizzes bias me.

#2. Um. Blogger, why? Why? Sure it's pretty, but I can't access my bloggin history. That's bloggin' ridiculous if you ask me. AND they didn't.

#3. For readers of J-Dub "Out saving the world" (the address now escapes me) I would like to remind everyone that I DID NOT APPROVE of the Hardee's Star. I want that perfectly clear. I found it threatening and mean and I even wrote Hardee's about it to complain.
They never wrote back.

Down, down, up
I missed the Scottish dressing. I played less than stellar in my first Summer League game. I met Paul Duncan and he seems like an upstanding Ultimate player from St. Louis. Brad Fingland might remember him. I don't.

Take that
For those of you that said "Kilts and banjos don't go together," I want you to know that if it all works out, tomorrow night I'm going to hear a man play a banjo and Thursday night I'm going to go listen to a talk on proper Scottish dress. And it's all the same festival. How about that?

Special attention to CSR
*I lied about my throws. More like 10 to 15 feet.
*I didn't lie about Tony Hawk. Wow.
Special attention to you
The Hulk is as bad as it looks in the commercials.
College movies are dangerous. They make me want to get out there and conquer. I should probably just stay right here and conquer for a while.
It's only Monday and already my weekend is deteriorating.

oops.
I woke up this morning and thought, "what a refreshing 6 hours of sleep". I rolled over, looked at the clock and realized the thought should've been, "what a refreshing 10 hours of sleep". I was 3 hours late to work. I've been late to work two other times in my life. And those two times I was less than 20 minutes late. THREE HOURS!
I'm never going to live this down. I paid the price today. I got to do all the junk that I was going to get out of had I been on time. I'm sure I'll pay the price for a while. Curses...

My thoughts on rap music
No. Nevermind.
I've decided that is neither herre nor thurr.

Full Throttle--I said it before, I'll say it again.
Dump Lucy, Cameron and Drew. Give us the originals. Even at 50+ they still look hotter than these three. The men I know agree.

No Vampy Eye Makeup!
Thanks to the lovely Clare and the lovely Kiera Knightley I now have some great advice on proper make-up application. Kiera is now 20 according this recent source. That's 3 years she has aged since we first met a few months ago. She'll catch up to me in no time and then all of you can stop snickering. In the meantime, I'll continue to admire her from afar, except when I find close-ups. July 9th is coming fast. Who's going to "Pirates of the Carribbean" with me?

Perhaps I need a hobby
Today I stayed a bit late at work so that I could set up a cubicle horse race. That sounds more exciting than it is. On the back wall of my cubicle I have 10 Clip Art Horses and jockeys, all wearing different color jerseys and caps, of course. They are lined up and ready to race toward the finish line. Each racer represents a member of the volunteer leadership team. As they assign computers for me to ship out to their various regions I will move the horses to the finish line. The first one to assign all thier computers will cross the line first. One jockey has jumped out to an early lead already. You never know what will happen at the AARP Downs, though. So don't count your winnings yet.

Much ado about nothing
I worked through most of my lunch so I could do a little "Word XP Clip Art". I rode my bike around in circles. AND I threw the flying disc with myself.
2 of those 3 activities were quite satisfying. The other resulted in a trip to the roof.

Acronymns Are Rather Pretentious
I'm lost in a sea of HMO's, PPO's POS's, 401k's, ASI, and various other top secret code.

What is the price of fame?
Is he/she a fan of Dotopia?
Check out the end of the paragraph under Point/Counterpoint June 8th.

Fighting Materialism with plastics
I have a confession.
I went shopping yesterday. It was for birthday presents for my friends, but I spent a lot of time admiring material goods that I suddenly "had to have". Frightening what a bit of disposable income will do to a fellow. Williams and Sonoma, Bed Bath and Beyond, and Express for Men have some beautiful items. I managed to escape before I bought a shirt to match one of those nifty shower curtains. It was a narrow escape though. A close call. I found a temporary remedy for my materialistic itches-cleaning. Nothing like putting the junk you already own in its place to give you a little perspective on what you really need. The income will have to be disposed another day. Disaster averted.

Come on baby let's retire
I got my AARP membership today. How's that for service? I can't wait to start using my discounts. In my retirement I plan to read Mental Floss, since that wish was granted by my Auntie Moose(she's a regular blog reader it seems) and Uncle Roger. Chris seems to have a strange desire to mat me. I can only assume he and I no longer have the same frame of reference. And Kristin, there are something like 26 shopping days left... 'course with my discounts of up to 20%, it hardly seems fair to have a wish list at all.

Crazy drunk drivers
That's what the bum says when Michael J. Fox comes BACK TO THE FUTURE, which is now very much the past.
I spent a lot of my day in the studio watching "them" photograph stupid props for a poster. It was cool for a while, but I can only have so many opinions about a coffee mug that was moved 3 inches before I run out of opinions. It was almost like being part of something advertising though. Almost.
Great Scott.

Buy now. Pay later
In case you are shopping for my birthday present already I would like:
a banjo, a kilt, a cribbage board, a Blink-182 CD, a book-maybe called The Lone Ranger and Tonto Fistfight in Heaven and maybe not, a subscription to Mental Floss,
new pants, banjo lessons, a trip, a giant frame that I can walk through, cleats, someone to throw the disc with, a state-of-the-art pencil, mmmmmm. cookies, a book definitely a book, and some music I lika de music- Bluegrass Country? Zydeco? don't be afraid to expose me to new things I lead a very sheltered life. A visit, a piece of pie,...

Somewhere between
crotch holes growing to unmanageable size and roast beef hash patties, I managed to fit in both my first conference call (zzzzzz) and my first meeting with creative services. My pappy always said that those quarterly financial reports would make a dandy place for my advertising skills, maybe he was right. That's not what I was doing though. I was back-up to a coworker trying to get a designer to do some freakin' designing. We'll see how that works out. The calendar keeps filling up. The job becomes harder to escape. I went to work happy though and I felt guilty. It's ok to like going to work. Just don't tell the pranksters. They'll serve you electric kool-aid and make you walk through a giant frame. So we all have the same frame of reference. Thanks T. Wolfe.

What a trip, man.
It's been awhile as some of my more impatient readers pointed out, but I'm back to bore you now. Here's a little look at my trips by the numbers.
*9 different airports. Cleveland's had the coolest artwork.
*8 bachelorette parties seen in Austin, 5 in a single bar. James and I decided that there are plenty of beautiful women in Austin, but you better hurry because they are all getting married.
*13 (tied)- Leadbelly's place at Nationals.
*15-13 Stanford women edged out MIT in a thriller women’s final.
*15-? Wisconsin annhilated Oregon.
*2 Ultimate games I've seen in a stadium. Ooh. Ahh.
*6th- the “cool” street in Austin.
*Bourbon St. is not a number.
*7 drink offers I turned down
*39 average age of women I danced with on Bourbon St.
*Lots- of things I found out about my coworkers that I probably shouldn’t have.
*90-95 age that I'll live according to the palm reader.
*1 items consumed from the mini-bar charged to the room.
*2 kingsize beds in the last 2 weeks.
*a gazillion - other blogworthy thoughts that just didn’t quite make the cut for one reason or another but may trickle in later

The Adventure continues
Details in June...

Blah.
My grandma died Friday night. She taught me how to play poker. I'm pretty much ok. I'm just stressed a bit about when I should fly out of here to go to the funeral. That's the problem with having a job.
It's raining, it's cold, and the Matrix wasn't very good. It's been a particularly somber weekend. I want dinner.

Got a haircut, got a real job
Well, I did it. After complaining for weeks that my life has been on pause, I finally get to Play. I got a job! Starting Monday I'm a Program Assistant for AARP Tax-Aide. On Friday, I'm taking my first vacation day to go to Austin, Texas to see my other College Ave. roommates and some good old-fashioned College Nationals Ultimate. (And Kate if all goes well.) Then on Tuesday I take my first business trip to N'awlins. Woo. Doggie. No wonder people get jobs.

What's the deal..
with D.C. potato salad? Where I come from Potato Salad is yellow and of questionable shape. Here it looks like potato. No good. I want unnaturally yellow potato salad. No more of this Capital city creee-ap.

Austin?
Austin, Massachusetts?

Near run-ins with the almost famous
The past few days has just been filled with fame...
*My friend Rob ran into Nathalie Portman on campus in N.H. He was brave enough to talk to her.
*I met a guy who played at Worlds Ultimate. He was lazy enough to let me hand-block him and sky him. He had poor spirit and was my new nemisis until he asked me to play on his team.
*Today while eating my lunch of fried shark I eavesdropped on the proud father of a future star. You’ve seen his kid in Pizza Hut commercials and soon you’ll see him in a movie with Darius Miles, Erica Christenson (sp?) called “Perfect Score” We all expect very big things. I just wish he would’ve shut up for 10 seconds so I could think my own thoughts during my solo lunch. He’s on his 4th Volvo you know. 3 in row, one in graduate school...

And the plot thickens
If you aren't going to sleep enough and you aren't going to exercise, eventually it will catch up with you. I guess today was my day. I still got asked to play on a Coed team Memorial Day weekend. See title.

Do I?
There is something about Arlington, VA that makes me want to participate in the mating rituals of my species.

No regrets. Ok not many
Check it! That's my buddy Rodger doing OSU's scoring (message 11). Nationals baby! I could've been studying junk and using up my eligibility with that gang, but I'm living it up with the old folks and trying to win a Rec league instead. All the way OSU! All the way boys. Football and Ultimate in the same year. Why the heck not?

Can’t explain it
I went to a party Sat. night. I’m not a party guy. I thought this one would be different. It was an Ultimate party and there was free pool. It was not different. Even in a room where everyone shared my favorite talking point-Ultimate, I still couldn’t find a place to start a conversation. Beer and noise are my kryptonite.
Cut to the next day. Surround myself with basically the same people, but this time I’m in a field and conversation comes second to the actual game of Ultimate.
In our very first game I had one of those great one on one battles going. I got a D on him. He got a D on me. He called a foul. I contested it. And the play was done over. I was wrong, but he treated me with respect. I burned him. He burned me. And all through the game we battled it out. It was one of those occasions when opponents bring out the best. My team snuck away with the victory, but that’s less important to me than the rest of the story.
And the post-game story was interesting too. In between games I struck up a conversation with Chip, my new rival. As I walked away he said to me, “I have an extra skirt if you’re interested.” I thanked him and said maybe I’d find him later. A bit later I did find him and I borrowed a beautiful blue kilt. I wore it like a Scotsman should, perhaps a backwards Scotsman, but still a Scotsman. And it was glorious, probably less so for the spectators. From that point on, I talked it up with my teammates. I joked, I laughed and I didn’t care. It was my kind party.

My sister asked me an interesting question that I still can’t answer. “Why did he offer you a skirt in the first place?” It didn’t occur to me, but that is an interesting question. Chime in if you read all this, but don’t forget that skirt wearing in Ultimate is an accepted practice. I like to think it’s because my Spirit was visible.

As graduation approaches people start to dispense advice. Here at Dotopia, I'm no different. In honor of all those readers graduating soon, already graduated, and even those of you who think graduation is for punks, I give you All I need to know I learned from punk music
*Being grown up isn’t half as fun as growing up...The the only thing that matters is just following your heart and eventually you’ll finally get it right.
*That’s the point. I won’t think about nothing, now I’ve got to do something else.
*ROCK. It’s what we’re all about. It’s what we live for. Come on and shout it out.
*Someone’s got to lose when someone wins. Look at the world you’re livin’ in.
*You’re not alone.
*Go on and take it off. TAKE IT OFF!
*Living so free is a tragedy, when you can’t be what you want to be.
And finally although it isn’t punk, it’s very important advice from Carolyn Hax, “Nothing is better when it rules out a moon bounce.”

And this special heartfelt, nonpunk message from me, "Make me proud, but do it your way."

Nice shoes
Here's the new D.C. pick-up "line". Me: Do you read the City Paper?
CG(cute girl): No.
Me: Too bad. They have these "I saw you" classifieds and now you'll never see the one I put in about you.
or
CG:yes.
Me: Save me 3 dollars and don't make me put an "I saw you" ad in next week's paper.

I know. I know. Who can resist?

I'm flying, Jack
I'm feeling particularly antsy. Overtime isn't helping. The free southern peach Ben and Jerry's ice cream didn't hurt, but it didn't last long. Take me away. To a place where injuries heal, extra work disappears and insurance isn't twice as expensive.

I listen to Bluegrass Country everyday now. I need a banjo.

It's my life
If life is a choose your own adventure, I need to stop picking the same one every day.

to laugh, or to cry?
My grandma claims to have thrown a party this past weekend, but she didn't invite anyone because she couldn't get a hold of them. She also claims to have been kidnapped by the Mafia.
My Sociolgy teacher claimed there is no Mafia.

strange desires
If I had a banjo right now, I'd be playing it.

Sure, Dave, that'll be the day
Know how blogger introduced that feature so you could call into your blog from a phone and post? Well, why stop there? I say connect a button through your neurons that goes off whenever you press your thumb and forefinger together so you can blog as soon as you think it. How cool would that be? No longer would you get these edited, scripted posts. You'd have the real stuff. Uncut and unfiltered, or at least more uncut and unfiltered. Although, I get the feeling that Clare doesn't leave out much on American Idol days anyway. Best of all THINK of the hilarity when people posted by accident. That girl is kinda cute. She doesn't have a wedding ring. Her nose is kinda big. I wonder if I have any frozen pizza left. I really have to pee. I think I do have pizza, whoa, was that my stop? See what I mean!

I interview tomorrow.

You can say that again
but you don't have to.
That's the best Secretaries' Day I've ever had. Cookies, certificates, I even found out what the whole nine yards meant. Then, I topped it all off with some 17th century Dutch Art.

Big Time?
Lunch, on the company dime

The non-moss gathering pebble
*I applied for a job in the department I've been temping for six months. Cross your fingers. Cross your toes.
*After work today I figured if I can't exercise, I can at least be a tourist. Post Office Pavilion. April 29th is Ben and Jerry's Free Cone Day.
*Today is Kim's birthday. After 6 years of being pals with her, I finally tried the ketchup and peanut butter sandwich. I guess you're supposed to dip the pb sandwich in the ketchup, but I can't imagine that changes much. It's not as bad as it sounds, but I'll stick to jelly.
*2 games of mini-golf is a nice way to celebrate Easter. Find the symbolism. I can't.