I am off today, whoo hoo!
And so I am cleaning house a little. As I was cleaning my windows in the back I noticed a woman and a man huddling across the way, next to my neighbors jeep.
Lo and behold she was smoking crack. I sh*t you not.
Trust me, I know crack smoking when I see it.
Then the guy starts making some x-rated moves on her. Now, honestly, I cannot imagine a guy wanting to have sex with a chick who is all gangly-high on crack. She's tossing her hair weirdly and flailing her arms and legs awkwardly. It would be like trying to get it on with a meth-ed up octopus I imagine.
Anyway, I decide to call the police. The po-po for those of you who write for the Globe.
Talk about an AWKWARD conversation.
9-1-1: "State Police, what is the nature of your emergency?"
Me: "Uh there are people smoking crack and trying to have sex behind my house"
9-1-1 "Please hold while I transfer you"
So then I feel like a complete idiot for being so puritanical and putting the kibosh on the canoodle. Especially when they ask what is the nature of the emergency and you have to say sex. Quite literally it is a "f*cking emergency!" Tee hee hee hee!
Oh but then I am transfered to the BPD operator who is a major a**hole and who makes it quite clear that I am completely wasting his time.
BPD 9-1-1: "What are they wearing?"
Me: "Blue jeans, white tee-shirt, blue baseball cap"
BPD 9-1-1: " Slow down! Slow down! Ok, white jeans..."
Then after I provide all the minute details of what they are wearing, he wants to know what they are doing.
Me: "Well, she's smoking crack, he just sold some to another person, and uh now he is trying to have sex with her. Oh, and she's putting on make up in the sideview mirror of my neighbors car."
BPD 9-1-1: "What kind of sex are they having exactly?"
Ah hahahaha, no, not that last line! You'd have to pay me to get that detailed!
Instead I politely explained that by the time I gave the operator all the detailed information, plus a GPS location, and sent photos by text, they'd be long gone. Smoking crack and f*cking in the bushes really doesn't take that long.
With that the operator hung up on me.
Which means that I guess it is ok to smoke crack, sell crack, and pay to get a bl*wjob in the alley.
Who knew?!
Don't worry, next time I will definitely snap some pics!
Monday, June 16, 2008
Friday, June 13, 2008
The Truth Behind the Celts Win Last Night
I haven't watched a Celts game since about 1990.
Not even this year.
Not the games, or the playoffs, or the finals.
Don't get me wrong, I think basketball is a great game and Kevin Garnett is totally hot. But it just that, eh, I dunno, it's not my game.
However, the other night (Game 3 of the Finals) I switched on the game just because I felt I ought to. And the Celts ended up LOSING!
So then last night I switched on the game again, during the end of the 1st quarter and for the 2nd quarter and they were losing again!
Hmmmm.....
But then I switched off the game thinking that the game was just going to end with a Celts loss, however guess what? As soon as I turned off the game, the Celts came back to win!
So no more Celtics games for me and all you fans can thank me when they bring home the trophy or the gold ball or whatever it is you win in basketball.
Not even this year.
Not the games, or the playoffs, or the finals.
Don't get me wrong, I think basketball is a great game and Kevin Garnett is totally hot. But it just that, eh, I dunno, it's not my game.
However, the other night (Game 3 of the Finals) I switched on the game just because I felt I ought to. And the Celts ended up LOSING!
So then last night I switched on the game again, during the end of the 1st quarter and for the 2nd quarter and they were losing again!
Hmmmm.....
But then I switched off the game thinking that the game was just going to end with a Celts loss, however guess what? As soon as I turned off the game, the Celts came back to win!
So no more Celtics games for me and all you fans can thank me when they bring home the trophy or the gold ball or whatever it is you win in basketball.
Massholes of every variety.
This is a post to rant about everyone engaged in forward motion.
Seriously, Bostonians lose their mind in the heat.
Drivers: two things, when you merge you are supposed to zipper into the lane. It just makes better sense rather than trying to jam your way in. And something I noticed in Cambridge (because of the better marked bike lane) is that drivers swerve into the bike lane. If you can't get around a turning car, the bike lane is for a bike, not for impatient drivers. Please make a note!
Pedestrians: stop jumping out from between two parked cars in to cross the street. I will gladly stop for you at any crosswalk of your choice, so why test my brakes unnecessarily? Also, to the dopey guy who just had to cross against the light, the reason the cars were moving to the sides of the crosswalk was because they were trying to clear the way for an ambulance. And trying to assert your right of way against said ambulance as it was turning the corner took balls.
Cyclists: a red light isn't just for cars so you can't swear at a pedestrian using a crosswalk when you try bombing through it. The pedestrian didn't get in your way, you are being an a**hole. Also, riding on the sidewalk is really really lame. Please don't unless your bike has training wheels.
I don't know what is wrong with me with all this criticism!
Eh, it must be the heat.
Or the humidity.
Or maybe because I recently renewed my Masshole license.
Seriously, Bostonians lose their mind in the heat.
Drivers: two things, when you merge you are supposed to zipper into the lane. It just makes better sense rather than trying to jam your way in. And something I noticed in Cambridge (because of the better marked bike lane) is that drivers swerve into the bike lane. If you can't get around a turning car, the bike lane is for a bike, not for impatient drivers. Please make a note!
Pedestrians: stop jumping out from between two parked cars in to cross the street. I will gladly stop for you at any crosswalk of your choice, so why test my brakes unnecessarily? Also, to the dopey guy who just had to cross against the light, the reason the cars were moving to the sides of the crosswalk was because they were trying to clear the way for an ambulance. And trying to assert your right of way against said ambulance as it was turning the corner took balls.
Cyclists: a red light isn't just for cars so you can't swear at a pedestrian using a crosswalk when you try bombing through it. The pedestrian didn't get in your way, you are being an a**hole. Also, riding on the sidewalk is really really lame. Please don't unless your bike has training wheels.
I don't know what is wrong with me with all this criticism!
Eh, it must be the heat.
Or the humidity.
Or maybe because I recently renewed my Masshole license.
To all the Helipeeers and Sneaky Poopers
OK let me explain something about poop.
It's alot like B.O. - you can never quite smell your own like other people can. If you take a dump at work, you better have some kind of spray.
Don't get me wrong, pooping is a completely natural & necessary body function and sometimes you have to go in public. But please, be prepared.
There is something particularly overwhelming about walking into an overheated, humid, bathroom that stinks of poo-bomb.
Granted that a spray will only mask the smell, but at least is smells better than your poop that you can't even smell in the first place. Because seriously, your own poo always smells worse than you think it does.
Now, on to you Helipeeers. You are the ladies who hover just above the toilet seat to pee because you don't want to sit atop someone else's dried up old pee-pee.
I respect that 100%.
However I do ask that if you lay down a fine spatter of pee-pee droplets all over the seat, use a wad of toilet paper to wipe it off.
Not only is it kind of gross to look at, but then it smells like some dank cement stairwell downtown.
And that's not fun. Unless you want to be in a dank dark cement stairwell that smells like pee-pee, but then you are probably really just looking for a place to smoke crack.
It's alot like B.O. - you can never quite smell your own like other people can. If you take a dump at work, you better have some kind of spray.
Don't get me wrong, pooping is a completely natural & necessary body function and sometimes you have to go in public. But please, be prepared.
There is something particularly overwhelming about walking into an overheated, humid, bathroom that stinks of poo-bomb.
Granted that a spray will only mask the smell, but at least is smells better than your poop that you can't even smell in the first place. Because seriously, your own poo always smells worse than you think it does.
Now, on to you Helipeeers. You are the ladies who hover just above the toilet seat to pee because you don't want to sit atop someone else's dried up old pee-pee.
I respect that 100%.
However I do ask that if you lay down a fine spatter of pee-pee droplets all over the seat, use a wad of toilet paper to wipe it off.
Not only is it kind of gross to look at, but then it smells like some dank cement stairwell downtown.
And that's not fun. Unless you want to be in a dank dark cement stairwell that smells like pee-pee, but then you are probably really just looking for a place to smoke crack.
Tuesday, June 10, 2008
8 Days! Whoops! I am the worst blogger EVAR!!!
Oh but you know what? It is SH*T hot out.
Right now I am sitting here shvitzing like you would not believe and for some reason I am completely dusty, like a powdered donut.
I think it was from the half-assed weeding in the garden I did earlier.
But really I am too hot to be funny or in any way creative.
Eh, more tomorrow. The weather will break and I will feel less like a lint-covered half-sucked Lifesaver at the bottom of Nana's handbag.
So in the meantime, here is a little double hotness to take the edge off.
Right now I am sitting here shvitzing like you would not believe and for some reason I am completely dusty, like a powdered donut.
I think it was from the half-assed weeding in the garden I did earlier.
But really I am too hot to be funny or in any way creative.
Eh, more tomorrow. The weather will break and I will feel less like a lint-covered half-sucked Lifesaver at the bottom of Nana's handbag.
So in the meantime, here is a little double hotness to take the edge off.
Monday, June 02, 2008
Burning and Firming My Way to a Slow & Painful Death
I am out of shape. Woefully out of shape to be specific.
Which is why I've been going to the gym. I've been going swimming, using the elliptical, trying not to get bucked off the treadmill...
And for all my efforts I am down a size and a fistful of pounds. So I am feeling a little gym-cocky and I sign up for the Burn & Firm class.
First hint of trouble? It's an hour and fifteen minute class.
Second hint of trouble? I am the only one in it.
Things start off well enough. The petite Irish instructor is all sweet and patient and shows be how to assemble the step board. She asks me a few questions about my exercise routine, starts up the music, and we're off!
There two things you ought to know about me before I continue. Firstly I am not always entirely positive about the concept of left and right. I never ever get it right the first time. I have to make the little "L" with my thumb and pointer finger, and even then sometimes I can't tell.
Secondly I am not particularly coordinated in certain ways. I can fly a glider, but for the life of me I cannot follow along in a waltz. The step-step-slide thing, I can't do it. I look like baby Frankenstein.
Ok so picture this: the music is blaring, it's just me and the trainer, and I've never stepped before in my life when all of a sudden the sweet and nice trainer turns into a screaming banshee on me.
She's pumping away, jumping up and down and on and off this step board thingy, yelling at me "LEFT, RIGHT, RIGHT, UP, JUMP, LEFT LEG, RIGHT ARM, RIGHT LEG, LEFT, JUMP, SIDE, BOUNCE, LEFT, LEFT, BOUNCE, JUMP, TURN, LEFT, RIGHT, RIGHT, CROSS LEFT"
Huh? Only I am not thinking at this point because I just don't know what the f*ck I am doing. And the banshee won't stop screaming.
I am sweating, and gasping, and jumping, and crossing. My face and lungs are on FIRE and that is when the second member of the class strolls in.
She takes her time, puts out her mat, then her board, has some water, then jumps in on the routine and it's like she just warming up. No sweating, no panting, just hop hop jump jump.
This goes on for a body-terrorizing 45 minutes. At one point I thought I would die. Like, for real. Although in truth it could just be the allergies.
Finally we switch to the firming part of the program. Weights, balls, stretching, and lifting. It turns out that I am the unfittest person in the world. Or at least I now know exactly how that person feels.
Well fortunately it is now over. I anticipate that I will regain feeling in all the parts of my body located just below my chin aaaaany minute now.
Just in time for next week's class.
Which is why I've been going to the gym. I've been going swimming, using the elliptical, trying not to get bucked off the treadmill...
And for all my efforts I am down a size and a fistful of pounds. So I am feeling a little gym-cocky and I sign up for the Burn & Firm class.
First hint of trouble? It's an hour and fifteen minute class.
Second hint of trouble? I am the only one in it.
Things start off well enough. The petite Irish instructor is all sweet and patient and shows be how to assemble the step board. She asks me a few questions about my exercise routine, starts up the music, and we're off!
There two things you ought to know about me before I continue. Firstly I am not always entirely positive about the concept of left and right. I never ever get it right the first time. I have to make the little "L" with my thumb and pointer finger, and even then sometimes I can't tell.
Secondly I am not particularly coordinated in certain ways. I can fly a glider, but for the life of me I cannot follow along in a waltz. The step-step-slide thing, I can't do it. I look like baby Frankenstein.
Ok so picture this: the music is blaring, it's just me and the trainer, and I've never stepped before in my life when all of a sudden the sweet and nice trainer turns into a screaming banshee on me.
She's pumping away, jumping up and down and on and off this step board thingy, yelling at me "LEFT, RIGHT, RIGHT, UP, JUMP, LEFT LEG, RIGHT ARM, RIGHT LEG, LEFT, JUMP, SIDE, BOUNCE, LEFT, LEFT, BOUNCE, JUMP, TURN, LEFT, RIGHT, RIGHT, CROSS LEFT"
Huh? Only I am not thinking at this point because I just don't know what the f*ck I am doing. And the banshee won't stop screaming.
I am sweating, and gasping, and jumping, and crossing. My face and lungs are on FIRE and that is when the second member of the class strolls in.
She takes her time, puts out her mat, then her board, has some water, then jumps in on the routine and it's like she just warming up. No sweating, no panting, just hop hop jump jump.
This goes on for a body-terrorizing 45 minutes. At one point I thought I would die. Like, for real. Although in truth it could just be the allergies.
Finally we switch to the firming part of the program. Weights, balls, stretching, and lifting. It turns out that I am the unfittest person in the world. Or at least I now know exactly how that person feels.
Well fortunately it is now over. I anticipate that I will regain feeling in all the parts of my body located just below my chin aaaaany minute now.
Just in time for next week's class.
Ackkaachhskkskkaaka
That is how I sound right now. Exactly as if I swallowed a fork.
It is as annoying to listen to me as it is to be feeling like this. I refuse to believe that it is anything more than allergies though. Which, as the Evil Twin pointed out, I would say in the event I broke my arm or fell off a ladder. Oh allergies! It's my standard diagnosis.
I took some Aleve and drank a ton of water and a Claritin. Possibly I will knock back a few doses of Tylenol PM before bed tonight and I am sure I will feel better in the AM.
At least I better feel better because tomorrow I am going out for oysters with two of my most favorite people ever. And anyway oysters are practically medicinal.
But today I am cooped up in the house feeling like caca-poo-poo and being bored out of my mind.
I was too restless to watch TV so I watched out the window for a while, hoping for a kerfuffle, but no dice. I did notice though that during the day there are a lot of big trucks on my street, going up and down, or occasionally parking for no discernible reason.
Also, there are a f*ck lot of birds in my backyard. Seriously, it is comical. I was on the phone with Evil Twin and the window was open and some bird was twazzling away outside and she thought it was some kind of alarm.
So when I say there are a lot, I mean like more than a bunch.
If I wasn't a bird person, it would make me nuts. But you know, I love birds.
Ok well there is the allergy medicine kicking in. Time for a nap.
It is as annoying to listen to me as it is to be feeling like this. I refuse to believe that it is anything more than allergies though. Which, as the Evil Twin pointed out, I would say in the event I broke my arm or fell off a ladder. Oh allergies! It's my standard diagnosis.
I took some Aleve and drank a ton of water and a Claritin. Possibly I will knock back a few doses of Tylenol PM before bed tonight and I am sure I will feel better in the AM.
At least I better feel better because tomorrow I am going out for oysters with two of my most favorite people ever. And anyway oysters are practically medicinal.
But today I am cooped up in the house feeling like caca-poo-poo and being bored out of my mind.
I was too restless to watch TV so I watched out the window for a while, hoping for a kerfuffle, but no dice. I did notice though that during the day there are a lot of big trucks on my street, going up and down, or occasionally parking for no discernible reason.
Also, there are a f*ck lot of birds in my backyard. Seriously, it is comical. I was on the phone with Evil Twin and the window was open and some bird was twazzling away outside and she thought it was some kind of alarm.
So when I say there are a lot, I mean like more than a bunch.
If I wasn't a bird person, it would make me nuts. But you know, I love birds.
Ok well there is the allergy medicine kicking in. Time for a nap.
Friday, May 30, 2008
Hook Heartbreak
I am heartbroken that James Hook burned down. It's like a kick in the gut.
It's like when you found out that as soon as you left the house, your parents threw away all the crap from your childhood - all the hand-drawn pictures, school papers, photographs, yearbooks, medals, ribbons, mash notes into the garbage- and then converted your old bedroom into a home gym.
Let me explain.
When I was a teenager I worked here:
Which is now the Barking Crab but back then it was just a lobster pound known as Neptune Lobster. Which explains why the word "Neptune" is lettered across the side of the building, and why there is a "Neptune Lobster Parking Only" sign affixed to the wall.
At that time it was all women who worked there. The Boss Lady (my mom! yay nepotism), the Deputy Boss Lady, Kimmmmayyyyy, Me, and the Evil Twin. The only boy was the four hundred year old watchman who lived on premises in a closet who had no teeth and called himself Wally. Kimmmmmmmayyyyyy STILL cries a little when she talks or thinks about him. That's a fact.
Neptune was directly across the channel from this place:
(Note: the smaller building on the right is a newer addition)
Anyway, most afternoons and on the weekends it was me n' Kimmmmmay hanging out and waiting for the lobster boats to come in to the docks behind Neptune. Then to kill the time between customers, we would grab the grotty old binocs and scope out the BOYYYYSSSS who worked at James Hook.
The office at Neptune was where the first window is in this picture:
And from those windows we would pick out the cutest guys of the summer stock. Considering how positively disgusting we smelled by the end of the day (kind of like the Super 88 on a 100 degree day when the power goes out) the truth was that the only other people we could hit on were other people who stank like we did, ie: other lobster sellers or the lobster men themselves. A pretty tiny pool really, especially since the lobster men were old back then.
But aside from that, they were always really nice to us. I remember going into shoot the poop with them when I would get stuck on the wrong side when the bridge when it used to open regularly. Those were some really fun times in my life.
That was before the Moakley bridge, when the Northern Ave bridge was still in use for both cars AND boats.
So to see it like this:
really breaks my heart. A part of my youth has been erased because even if it is rebuilt, it will be different. And while I reluctantly understand that these things happen, it still feels like a kick in the gut.
Even more though, my heart goes out to the Hook family. Never mind the past, it's their future that has been destroyed.
(Note: None of the photos in this post are mine, they are from Flickr. Click on them for more info)
It's like when you found out that as soon as you left the house, your parents threw away all the crap from your childhood - all the hand-drawn pictures, school papers, photographs, yearbooks, medals, ribbons, mash notes into the garbage- and then converted your old bedroom into a home gym.
Let me explain.
When I was a teenager I worked here:
Which is now the Barking Crab but back then it was just a lobster pound known as Neptune Lobster. Which explains why the word "Neptune" is lettered across the side of the building, and why there is a "Neptune Lobster Parking Only" sign affixed to the wall.At that time it was all women who worked there. The Boss Lady (my mom! yay nepotism), the Deputy Boss Lady, Kimmmmayyyyy, Me, and the Evil Twin. The only boy was the four hundred year old watchman who lived on premises in a closet who had no teeth and called himself Wally. Kimmmmmmmayyyyyy STILL cries a little when she talks or thinks about him. That's a fact.
Neptune was directly across the channel from this place:
(Note: the smaller building on the right is a newer addition)Anyway, most afternoons and on the weekends it was me n' Kimmmmmay hanging out and waiting for the lobster boats to come in to the docks behind Neptune. Then to kill the time between customers, we would grab the grotty old binocs and scope out the BOYYYYSSSS who worked at James Hook.
The office at Neptune was where the first window is in this picture:
And from those windows we would pick out the cutest guys of the summer stock. Considering how positively disgusting we smelled by the end of the day (kind of like the Super 88 on a 100 degree day when the power goes out) the truth was that the only other people we could hit on were other people who stank like we did, ie: other lobster sellers or the lobster men themselves. A pretty tiny pool really, especially since the lobster men were old back then.
But aside from that, they were always really nice to us. I remember going into shoot the poop with them when I would get stuck on the wrong side when the bridge when it used to open regularly. Those were some really fun times in my life.
That was before the Moakley bridge, when the Northern Ave bridge was still in use for both cars AND boats.
So to see it like this:
really breaks my heart. A part of my youth has been erased because even if it is rebuilt, it will be different. And while I reluctantly understand that these things happen, it still feels like a kick in the gut.
Even more though, my heart goes out to the Hook family. Never mind the past, it's their future that has been destroyed.
(Note: None of the photos in this post are mine, they are from Flickr. Click on them for more info)
Thursday, May 29, 2008
Sex-For-a-Fee in the REAL World
Sometime I read a police report that really makes me laugh. Sometimes they make me shudder. Other times they make me stop and think.
Lately, with Operation Squeeze going on, I've been thinking a lot about the whole sex-for-a-fee business.
As you may or may not remember (and honestly how could you forget) the previous governor of New York was done in by a very expensive 'ho. Which I think raised more than a few hopes on both sides of this tawdry transaction. And certainly left plenty of people curious as to what exact sex acts could be had for 4 grand. I mean I am imaginative, but sorry fellas, I am not $4,000 imaginative.
However for the regular Joes, or Johns as it were, it would seem that the men of Boston price sex acts in the twenties.
Some of you who read the Herald know about the Boston firefighter arrested for offering an undercover officer $29 for a blow job. I have to know: did he really expect change?
And then I read a report today about an older gent who offered an undercover $20 to first dance naked for him before having "straight" sex with him.
I wonder if he was expecting an AARP discount maybe. I just don't get it. I mean it makes $29 for a blow job seem almost generous.
I could go on, but it starts to get boring and a little ick after a while.
I am pretty positive I would never have sex-for-a-fee. Weeelllllllll, I might for a ton of money. Literally for a ton of money. 2,000 lbs of hundreds that is. A ton of $100's.
But don't tell my folks ok. They still think I am a "good" girl.
Lately, with Operation Squeeze going on, I've been thinking a lot about the whole sex-for-a-fee business.
As you may or may not remember (and honestly how could you forget) the previous governor of New York was done in by a very expensive 'ho. Which I think raised more than a few hopes on both sides of this tawdry transaction. And certainly left plenty of people curious as to what exact sex acts could be had for 4 grand. I mean I am imaginative, but sorry fellas, I am not $4,000 imaginative.
However for the regular Joes, or Johns as it were, it would seem that the men of Boston price sex acts in the twenties.
Some of you who read the Herald know about the Boston firefighter arrested for offering an undercover officer $29 for a blow job. I have to know: did he really expect change?
And then I read a report today about an older gent who offered an undercover $20 to first dance naked for him before having "straight" sex with him.
I wonder if he was expecting an AARP discount maybe. I just don't get it. I mean it makes $29 for a blow job seem almost generous.
I could go on, but it starts to get boring and a little ick after a while.
I am pretty positive I would never have sex-for-a-fee. Weeelllllllll, I might for a ton of money. Literally for a ton of money. 2,000 lbs of hundreds that is. A ton of $100's.
But don't tell my folks ok. They still think I am a "good" girl.
Sunday, May 25, 2008
My Dunkin Donuts Problem
Listen, I hate to admit my love for Dunkies just as much as every other pretentious Masshole.
But here is the truth: not only do I love my medium iced coffee with a little cream, tweekle*, and a strawberry frosted donut**, I only LOVE it when it comes from this one Dunkies in Southie. This is not a phenomena I can explain, it's just that no where else does that combination taste as good.
Yep.
There are more than TEN (10) Dunkies within striking distance from my house*** and yet I will travel in my car to go to this one Dunkies in South Boston just for that particular chemical fix.
I AM a Masshole. Harbor water in my veins, a pot of beans for a brain.
Long live the Dunkin.
* Tweekle: means "two Equal" in my language
** Strawberry frosted donuts are alleged to be "seasonal"
*** Striking distance = a mile or less
But here is the truth: not only do I love my medium iced coffee with a little cream, tweekle*, and a strawberry frosted donut**, I only LOVE it when it comes from this one Dunkies in Southie. This is not a phenomena I can explain, it's just that no where else does that combination taste as good.
Yep.
There are more than TEN (10) Dunkies within striking distance from my house*** and yet I will travel in my car to go to this one Dunkies in South Boston just for that particular chemical fix.
I AM a Masshole. Harbor water in my veins, a pot of beans for a brain.
Long live the Dunkin.
* Tweekle: means "two Equal" in my language
** Strawberry frosted donuts are alleged to be "seasonal"
*** Striking distance = a mile or less
Saturday, May 24, 2008
Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh
Let me explain something here.
This week everyone kept asking: "So any fun plans this weekend?"
And my response was: "No"
And what people mostly presumed was that while I did have plans, they weren't fun.
I should have explained that I have no plans of any kind. I was invited to go "down Cape", to go camping, sailing, zombie marching, picnicking, canoing, and while I will admit that I would have probably have said yes to oakie-noodling, I just did not want to have to do anything this whole weekend.
Period.
The luxury of my life is that I am only answerable to myself. I don't have to check in with anyone if I want to do something or go somewhere, I don't have to feed a kid or a pet, I don't feel bad if I drink the last beer or eat the last piece of toast - all things I don't mind having to do if I were in a situation that required it. But since I am not, I like to enjoy not having to.
Like right now, I am catching up on my blog and my emails and listening to Alice Cooper Nights on WZLX (the last few tunes included Dokken, Van Halen, Yardbirds...)
I got up when I woke up this morning, went to the gym, cleaned the house a little, had lunch with my sister, went shoe shopping, popped over to see the folksters, half cleaned the bathroom, purged out a desk drawer, talked to a friend for a little while, had a nap....
And you know what? I might do more of the same tomorrow. But then again I might not! Depends on how I feel.
Ah sweet nothing, I love it.
This week everyone kept asking: "So any fun plans this weekend?"
And my response was: "No"
And what people mostly presumed was that while I did have plans, they weren't fun.
I should have explained that I have no plans of any kind. I was invited to go "down Cape", to go camping, sailing, zombie marching, picnicking, canoing, and while I will admit that I would have probably have said yes to oakie-noodling, I just did not want to have to do anything this whole weekend.
Period.
The luxury of my life is that I am only answerable to myself. I don't have to check in with anyone if I want to do something or go somewhere, I don't have to feed a kid or a pet, I don't feel bad if I drink the last beer or eat the last piece of toast - all things I don't mind having to do if I were in a situation that required it. But since I am not, I like to enjoy not having to.
Like right now, I am catching up on my blog and my emails and listening to Alice Cooper Nights on WZLX (the last few tunes included Dokken, Van Halen, Yardbirds...)
I got up when I woke up this morning, went to the gym, cleaned the house a little, had lunch with my sister, went shoe shopping, popped over to see the folksters, half cleaned the bathroom, purged out a desk drawer, talked to a friend for a little while, had a nap....
And you know what? I might do more of the same tomorrow. But then again I might not! Depends on how I feel.
Ah sweet nothing, I love it.
Audrey and Gretel at the Alchemist
Thursday night I went to see Audrey Ryan at the Alchemist in Jamaica Plain. She was playing a double-header with Gretel.
As some of you may know I went to see Ms. Ryan at the Dolphin Striker in Portsmouth back in February. The bar was packed, the crowd was nettlesome, and still she was enchanting.
After the show I bought her CD, exchanged a few pleasantries, and that was that. However since then her album Dishes & Pills has been an integral part of my playlist.
So I was excited to see her again at the Alchemist. The best thing about her music is that she sounds so utterly like no one else I've ever heard. Granted I don't know diddley-doo-doo about the technical nuances of music, I do know that music (to me) is either sounds I like, or sounds I do not.
What I heard Thursday were sounds that thrummed joyfully across my cerebral cortex.
Ms. Ryan's set was short and unfortunately played against the backdrop of the Celtics game - which meant there were bursts of applause at odd moments. Short though it may have been, sweet it definitely was.
After her set was Gretel, who I'd never heard before. Gretel seems to be a four person band, but for some reason they had five people this time. They were great too. And even better was that even though there was less than 50 people in the place, they rocked like they were playing to 500. In a good, full, way - not in the ear piercing annoying way.
I got home I checked Gretel out online and I have to say I think preferred them live. But I am not sure about that yet.
If you get a chance to see either, I highly recommend you do so. The best part was that the show was free. We ate there and the food was excellent, but there was no cover or anything which is great.
Quite possibly one of the best things in life is good live music for free!
PS: The food and the staff were really really nice at the Alchemist. Although that place will always be Triple D's to me, where the brother of a friend got so drunk he crapped in a planter outside thinking he was in the bathroom. Now THAT is drunk.
As some of you may know I went to see Ms. Ryan at the Dolphin Striker in Portsmouth back in February. The bar was packed, the crowd was nettlesome, and still she was enchanting.
After the show I bought her CD, exchanged a few pleasantries, and that was that. However since then her album Dishes & Pills has been an integral part of my playlist.
So I was excited to see her again at the Alchemist. The best thing about her music is that she sounds so utterly like no one else I've ever heard. Granted I don't know diddley-doo-doo about the technical nuances of music, I do know that music (to me) is either sounds I like, or sounds I do not.
What I heard Thursday were sounds that thrummed joyfully across my cerebral cortex.
Ms. Ryan's set was short and unfortunately played against the backdrop of the Celtics game - which meant there were bursts of applause at odd moments. Short though it may have been, sweet it definitely was.
After her set was Gretel, who I'd never heard before. Gretel seems to be a four person band, but for some reason they had five people this time. They were great too. And even better was that even though there was less than 50 people in the place, they rocked like they were playing to 500. In a good, full, way - not in the ear piercing annoying way.
I got home I checked Gretel out online and I have to say I think preferred them live. But I am not sure about that yet.
If you get a chance to see either, I highly recommend you do so. The best part was that the show was free. We ate there and the food was excellent, but there was no cover or anything which is great.
Quite possibly one of the best things in life is good live music for free!
PS: The food and the staff were really really nice at the Alchemist. Although that place will always be Triple D's to me, where the brother of a friend got so drunk he crapped in a planter outside thinking he was in the bathroom. Now THAT is drunk.
Thursday, May 22, 2008
L.o.n.g.e.s.t. W.e.e.k. E.v.a.r
For some reason the week before a long weekend seems to drag its butt around the carpet like a constipated dog.
How is it possible that today is Thursday?
I feel like Thursday was two days ago (Tuesday, for those of you not stumbling along the space-time continuum) and really I should not have had to have been at work today. Or wait, and not yesterday either, I think....
Gargh! You see how this happens!
This also means that it is quite possible that I will wake up tomorrow and it will really be Monday afternoon and I will be wondering where the weekend went.
Because you know, that happens to me A LOT.
But usually on Sundays.
How is it possible that today is Thursday?
I feel like Thursday was two days ago (Tuesday, for those of you not stumbling along the space-time continuum) and really I should not have had to have been at work today. Or wait, and not yesterday either, I think....
Gargh! You see how this happens!
This also means that it is quite possible that I will wake up tomorrow and it will really be Monday afternoon and I will be wondering where the weekend went.
Because you know, that happens to me A LOT.
But usually on Sundays.
Tuesday, May 20, 2008
I predict
That Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull is going to rake in a milliongazillionbillion dollars this Memorial Day weekend.
\
I further predict that I will be one of those lemmings.
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I further predict that I will be one of those lemmings.
Monday, May 19, 2008
Wrong, wrong, wrong, wrong, wrong, but, you know.
I, for one, cannot wait until the BPD tries out "The Rumblah" on my car.
"The targeted drivers will hear, in addition to the conventional siren, a deep, guttural sound, then feel a vibration beneath their feet."
Yep, I am ready.
Although I am not so sure that the Shampagne Supernova would survive being "rumbled". She would probably fly apart into a hundred pieces.
"The targeted drivers will hear, in addition to the conventional siren, a deep, guttural sound, then feel a vibration beneath their feet."
Yep, I am ready.
Although I am not so sure that the Shampagne Supernova would survive being "rumbled". She would probably fly apart into a hundred pieces.
Saturday, May 17, 2008
Holy Crap! What the #&^%@ IS That?
The other night there was a kerfuffle in the street.
The kind that starts with the words "B*tch!", goes on to include the words "Muthaf*cka", "Ho", "No you di-int!", and typically ends with "I'm gonna f*ck you up!" or "Oh yeah? Why don't you come here and say that sh*t to my face b*tch!"
Nothing too thrilling - no bats or knives, but there is something grotesquely intriguing about two women fighting.
It's just that two men fisticuffing is guttural and unimaginative. Two women screaming at each other is far more engaging - the verbal sewerage that comes spilling out is highly entertaining. If I knew I wouldn't die doing it, I would totally go out there with a tape recorder. When I am mad, I sputter and every great comeback line comes to me about 3 days after the fact. A handier, pre-recorded, back-pocket retort would be awesome.
So wait, where was I going with this post....
Oh yeah. So there was this kerfuffle the other night. I listened out the window for a bit and then it sounded like they were exchanging a few slaps, there was a ripping noise, then some other women stepped in and the whole thing was over.
However when I was walking down the street this afternoon I saw this:
Of course I was like, what the f*ck IS that? A dead bird?
And of course I had to take a closer look:
Ha hahhhahaha! It was the hair! From the b*tchslap fest the other night.
THAT explains the ripping sounds! Good lord, another thing to remember about high-falutin' city living: never, ever, wear fake hair when you plan on tackling your ex-man's new b*tch!
The kind that starts with the words "B*tch!", goes on to include the words "Muthaf*cka", "Ho", "No you di-int!", and typically ends with "I'm gonna f*ck you up!" or "Oh yeah? Why don't you come here and say that sh*t to my face b*tch!"
Nothing too thrilling - no bats or knives, but there is something grotesquely intriguing about two women fighting.
It's just that two men fisticuffing is guttural and unimaginative. Two women screaming at each other is far more engaging - the verbal sewerage that comes spilling out is highly entertaining. If I knew I wouldn't die doing it, I would totally go out there with a tape recorder. When I am mad, I sputter and every great comeback line comes to me about 3 days after the fact. A handier, pre-recorded, back-pocket retort would be awesome.
So wait, where was I going with this post....
Oh yeah. So there was this kerfuffle the other night. I listened out the window for a bit and then it sounded like they were exchanging a few slaps, there was a ripping noise, then some other women stepped in and the whole thing was over.
However when I was walking down the street this afternoon I saw this:
Of course I was like, what the f*ck IS that? A dead bird?And of course I had to take a closer look:
Ha hahhhahaha! It was the hair! From the b*tchslap fest the other night.THAT explains the ripping sounds! Good lord, another thing to remember about high-falutin' city living: never, ever, wear fake hair when you plan on tackling your ex-man's new b*tch!
Thursday, May 15, 2008
Great Gift Idea for a Grandparent
I am 100% Grandpa is NOT going to love me more for sharing this information with you, but he recently had a case of shingles.
Which is why he is growing a beard that makes him look much younger than 92.
I mention this because he was first diagnosed with having impetigo.
Which I thought was hilarious because it was right at the same time that Amy Winehouse was running around old London town with a dose of the impetigo herself. Never would I have ever put Gramps and Amy together in the same sentence.
But what really goes to show you that doctors aren't really expecting to see shingles in 92 year olds.
However the CDC expects that anyone over 85 who has had the chicken pox has a 50% chance of getting shingles. There is now a vaccine for it and while it doesn't work 100% for everyone, it is better than not taking it. Read more about it here.
Grandpa is lucky because he was treated pretty fast once it was diagnosed as shingles. Hopefully the painful effects won't last.
And if I had known that back in December, I could have gotten him the vaccine for Christmas!
Which is why he is growing a beard that makes him look much younger than 92.
I mention this because he was first diagnosed with having impetigo.
Which I thought was hilarious because it was right at the same time that Amy Winehouse was running around old London town with a dose of the impetigo herself. Never would I have ever put Gramps and Amy together in the same sentence.
But what really goes to show you that doctors aren't really expecting to see shingles in 92 year olds.
However the CDC expects that anyone over 85 who has had the chicken pox has a 50% chance of getting shingles. There is now a vaccine for it and while it doesn't work 100% for everyone, it is better than not taking it. Read more about it here.
Grandpa is lucky because he was treated pretty fast once it was diagnosed as shingles. Hopefully the painful effects won't last.
And if I had known that back in December, I could have gotten him the vaccine for Christmas!
Monday, May 12, 2008
It's NOT a marathon.
I convinced my friend Moet (of Sassy Sauce fame) to run the Jack Kerouac 5k with me this September. I am pretty sure that I have likely consumed about 47 jars of sassy sauce, so really I blame her for my oversized hassock and shockingly high cholesterol.
Anyway I have been going to the gym regularly for three weeks now. Which quite possibly means that hell has frozen over, or, I've died and hell is a gym. I figured I would give the Couch-Potato-to-5K regimen a try and run the Kerouac 5K is in September, which means I have a couple of months to figure out how to run 3.1 miles without dying.
Some people out there won't get it, this inability of mine to run with ease. Those people are natural runners. They're the ones who hop on the treadmill next to me and run like gazelles, gliding along on long legs, leaping forward at a rate of speed that would chuck me off the machine immediately.
I clamber onto the treadmill and as soon as I hit "Start" I want to get off. I look ridiculous running. I look pained from minute one and things don't improve much from there. My legs kind of splay out weirdly, one foot swings out and around while the other foot goes off to see what else is going on over on the other machines. I am easily distracted and almost constantly panting.
Which is even more ridiculous considering I am only on week 1 of the plan which means that I am only running for 60 seconds, and then walking for 90 seconds.
Eh well. It's for a good cause. The Kerouac run is a fund raiser run to send a deserving Lowell senior to college and I am all for learning. Even better the race ends at a bar. So not only is it a literary run for a good & intellectual cause, there is beer at the end, a sort of Holy Grail if you will.
I just have to try and not die from running between now and September 28th.
Anyway I have been going to the gym regularly for three weeks now. Which quite possibly means that hell has frozen over, or, I've died and hell is a gym. I figured I would give the Couch-Potato-to-5K regimen a try and run the Kerouac 5K is in September, which means I have a couple of months to figure out how to run 3.1 miles without dying.
Some people out there won't get it, this inability of mine to run with ease. Those people are natural runners. They're the ones who hop on the treadmill next to me and run like gazelles, gliding along on long legs, leaping forward at a rate of speed that would chuck me off the machine immediately.
I clamber onto the treadmill and as soon as I hit "Start" I want to get off. I look ridiculous running. I look pained from minute one and things don't improve much from there. My legs kind of splay out weirdly, one foot swings out and around while the other foot goes off to see what else is going on over on the other machines. I am easily distracted and almost constantly panting.
Which is even more ridiculous considering I am only on week 1 of the plan which means that I am only running for 60 seconds, and then walking for 90 seconds.
Eh well. It's for a good cause. The Kerouac run is a fund raiser run to send a deserving Lowell senior to college and I am all for learning. Even better the race ends at a bar. So not only is it a literary run for a good & intellectual cause, there is beer at the end, a sort of Holy Grail if you will.
I just have to try and not die from running between now and September 28th.
Sunday, May 11, 2008
10 Reasons Why My Mom Rocks
Personally I love Mother's Day because it is the one holiday each year where I can reflect on how much I appreciate my Mom and not just in return for giving me a present (ie: Christmas, Valentine's Day, birthday...).
My Mom really does rock. And here is why - both my Evil Twin and I came up with this list because well we both think she rocks, but uh, I am the wordy one:
10. While she can occasionally make sweeping and often surprising judgments herself, she raised me and my Evil Twin to be open-minded and non-judgmental. We were raised in what was at the time a pretty diverse neighborhood - black, white, hispanic, gay, straight, whatever - she never put any emphasis on one or the other as being different or bad or special. My mother believes everyone is the same and treats everyone as such.
9. She wants everyone to be happy and always thinks life is wonderful. No, seriously. When I was a kid I used to test her. I would get wildly ugly haircuts, and torment her with absurd ideas of career choices - all she would say was "as long as you are happy". I think now that probably that was a personal mantra to keep her from killing me, but I do believe she meant it as well.
8. She has a super-sexy French accent.
7. Don't let her fool you, she is smart. She knows a surprising amount of interesting tidbits and lots of big words. There are two things you should not do with my Mom: take her to Vegas because I have a feeling that she is a card shark, or doubt her ability to do anything she puts her mind to doing.
6. She could not repeat a joke. Not for one million dollars. If you called her up right now and said "Tell me a joke and I will give you one million dollars", if she didn't hang up on you, she would not be able to do it. She does however think other people are hysterically funny. She thinks this blog is funny, she thinks my Evil Twin is funny (looking maybe.. ahahhaha) and she thinks life in general is pretty funny.
5. She has a farting double standard. She alleges that she doesn't fart. And other people who do are "really grozz". However whenever she lets one slip, it's hilariously funny. I mean, if she ever let one slip...
4. She signs all her notes, emails, and texts with her initials. As in: "blah blah blah, Love XYZ". The exceptions to this rule are Christmas present tags which she signs "Love from Christmas Mousey" or "Love from Guess Who". And birthday cards, which are simply signed "Love Mom".
3. Whenever she makes a meal off the cuff with random items out of the fridge she calls it "plat unique" which I believe is French for "Might taste like poop, might not". A recent chicken-corn-pineapple-bacon melange recently comes to mind, but I am not going to say which "might" column that fell into. I am afraid of never being fed again.
2. Without her I think my Dad would starve to death. Well, not before eating every last thing in the house, right down to the last cornichon. Which he would probably dip in cream.
1. Whenever she calls, she always ALWAYS leaves a message. So not only do I see that her number has popped up on caller ID, but then she leaves this exact message: "Hi Leeeleee! Zis iz your mozer. Call me back!" Uh, really? My mom? Are you sure? Wait, I am being sarcastic. How many other French woman does she think are calling me in a day?And yes, that is the exact message, every time. Except she calls me by my real name because she gave it to me.
So yeah Mom, believe me when I say that you are much loved by two great kids.
And thank you for your unfailing love and support, especially during the ages between 13 to 18.
My Mom really does rock. And here is why - both my Evil Twin and I came up with this list because well we both think she rocks, but uh, I am the wordy one:
10. While she can occasionally make sweeping and often surprising judgments herself, she raised me and my Evil Twin to be open-minded and non-judgmental. We were raised in what was at the time a pretty diverse neighborhood - black, white, hispanic, gay, straight, whatever - she never put any emphasis on one or the other as being different or bad or special. My mother believes everyone is the same and treats everyone as such.
9. She wants everyone to be happy and always thinks life is wonderful. No, seriously. When I was a kid I used to test her. I would get wildly ugly haircuts, and torment her with absurd ideas of career choices - all she would say was "as long as you are happy". I think now that probably that was a personal mantra to keep her from killing me, but I do believe she meant it as well.
8. She has a super-sexy French accent.
7. Don't let her fool you, she is smart. She knows a surprising amount of interesting tidbits and lots of big words. There are two things you should not do with my Mom: take her to Vegas because I have a feeling that she is a card shark, or doubt her ability to do anything she puts her mind to doing.
6. She could not repeat a joke. Not for one million dollars. If you called her up right now and said "Tell me a joke and I will give you one million dollars", if she didn't hang up on you, she would not be able to do it. She does however think other people are hysterically funny. She thinks this blog is funny, she thinks my Evil Twin is funny (looking maybe.. ahahhaha) and she thinks life in general is pretty funny.
5. She has a farting double standard. She alleges that she doesn't fart. And other people who do are "really grozz". However whenever she lets one slip, it's hilariously funny. I mean, if she ever let one slip...
4. She signs all her notes, emails, and texts with her initials. As in: "blah blah blah, Love XYZ". The exceptions to this rule are Christmas present tags which she signs "Love from Christmas Mousey" or "Love from Guess Who". And birthday cards, which are simply signed "Love Mom".
3. Whenever she makes a meal off the cuff with random items out of the fridge she calls it "plat unique" which I believe is French for "Might taste like poop, might not". A recent chicken-corn-pineapple-bacon melange recently comes to mind, but I am not going to say which "might" column that fell into. I am afraid of never being fed again.
2. Without her I think my Dad would starve to death. Well, not before eating every last thing in the house, right down to the last cornichon. Which he would probably dip in cream.
1. Whenever she calls, she always ALWAYS leaves a message. So not only do I see that her number has popped up on caller ID, but then she leaves this exact message: "Hi Leeeleee! Zis iz your mozer. Call me back!" Uh, really? My mom? Are you sure? Wait, I am being sarcastic. How many other French woman does she think are calling me in a day?And yes, that is the exact message, every time. Except she calls me by my real name because she gave it to me.
So yeah Mom, believe me when I say that you are much loved by two great kids.
And thank you for your unfailing love and support, especially during the ages between 13 to 18.
Friday, May 09, 2008
Really, really sad.
Today the alleged murderers of Luis Gerena were arraigned in Roxbury District Court and I had the opportunity to see the members of his family and his friends who came for the arraignment.
To be honest, I don't think that I would have been able to sit through the arraignment. The facts of the case are heartbreaking enough on paper. I cannot imagine being the mother listening to them.
What is reported in the newspapers seems almost clinical: the mother weeps, the boy was shot, friends and family are devastated.
However I feel sometimes like words ought to be used instead to tear out your heart a little, just like the actual crime does to the people it affects.
I mean a thirteen year old boy was shot five times, five minutes from home. He was thirteen. He wasn't in a gang. He was a pre-teen living in a tough neighborhood but that does not mean his painful, solitary death should be shrugged off.
A thirteen year old boy, perched between the naivety of childhood and the sudden, surprising hardness of his teenage years, that's all. He was shot to death - hot, hard bullets shredding through the soft and pliant tissues of his liver, his kidney, his heart. A little kid really. Torn up by bullets on a cold winter night. Left to die by himself, without the comfort of his family, bewildered and terrified and dying.
And for what? For nothing. At the end of the day, there is no reason worth his life.
Ok, I know it's grim. But you know what, it was on my mind.
To be honest, I don't think that I would have been able to sit through the arraignment. The facts of the case are heartbreaking enough on paper. I cannot imagine being the mother listening to them.
What is reported in the newspapers seems almost clinical: the mother weeps, the boy was shot, friends and family are devastated.
However I feel sometimes like words ought to be used instead to tear out your heart a little, just like the actual crime does to the people it affects.
I mean a thirteen year old boy was shot five times, five minutes from home. He was thirteen. He wasn't in a gang. He was a pre-teen living in a tough neighborhood but that does not mean his painful, solitary death should be shrugged off.
A thirteen year old boy, perched between the naivety of childhood and the sudden, surprising hardness of his teenage years, that's all. He was shot to death - hot, hard bullets shredding through the soft and pliant tissues of his liver, his kidney, his heart. A little kid really. Torn up by bullets on a cold winter night. Left to die by himself, without the comfort of his family, bewildered and terrified and dying.
And for what? For nothing. At the end of the day, there is no reason worth his life.
Ok, I know it's grim. But you know what, it was on my mind.
Wednesday, May 07, 2008
I Blame Little House on the Prairie
I know what a hair receiver is, do you?
Granted they haven't been in use since, I dunno, 1898. But I know what they are because little Laura Ingalls mentioned it in one of her Little House books. I believe she or Mary made one for Ma.
And when I was a kid - reading these books and coming across words that had been popular in the 1800's - my parents made me look stuff up in the dictionary instead of just friggin' telling me what the words meant. Possibly because it was a 100 years later and they didn't know either.
Which is why I was probably the only 10 year old who knew that braces are what I call suspenders, that dimity is a type of cotton fabric interwoven with heavier ribbon, and that a slough is basically a swamp.
And because of this constant word search I asked to get a dictionary for my 15th birthday. With a stand please. The Random House, 2nd Edition, Unabridged.
It doesn't have the word "internet" in it, nor any other 21st century contribution, but that's fine. That's what I have the "internet" for anyway.
You might just ask what all this book learnin' is good for? Well let me tell you! Scrabble for one thing. You whip "dimity" on the board and you are guaranteed a challenge that I promise you will win.
Oh and ShiftyMike in case you forgot to look it up, I was totally wrong about "oxbow". It IS a word (again, thank you Laura Ingalls), but has nothing to do with bows and arrows. But you are very welcome anyway. Next time I won't be such an amenable opponent.
I will instead crush you with my knowledge of random vowel-friendly 18th and 19th century vocabulary.
Muhhhahhhhaaahhhhhhahaha!!!!!
Granted they haven't been in use since, I dunno, 1898. But I know what they are because little Laura Ingalls mentioned it in one of her Little House books. I believe she or Mary made one for Ma.
And when I was a kid - reading these books and coming across words that had been popular in the 1800's - my parents made me look stuff up in the dictionary instead of just friggin' telling me what the words meant. Possibly because it was a 100 years later and they didn't know either.
Which is why I was probably the only 10 year old who knew that braces are what I call suspenders, that dimity is a type of cotton fabric interwoven with heavier ribbon, and that a slough is basically a swamp.
And because of this constant word search I asked to get a dictionary for my 15th birthday. With a stand please. The Random House, 2nd Edition, Unabridged.
It doesn't have the word "internet" in it, nor any other 21st century contribution, but that's fine. That's what I have the "internet" for anyway.
You might just ask what all this book learnin' is good for? Well let me tell you! Scrabble for one thing. You whip "dimity" on the board and you are guaranteed a challenge that I promise you will win.
Oh and ShiftyMike in case you forgot to look it up, I was totally wrong about "oxbow". It IS a word (again, thank you Laura Ingalls), but has nothing to do with bows and arrows. But you are very welcome anyway. Next time I won't be such an amenable opponent.
I will instead crush you with my knowledge of random vowel-friendly 18th and 19th century vocabulary.
Muhhhahhhhaaahhhhhhahaha!!!!!
Tuesday, May 06, 2008
It's Not Called the Roxbury Tollbooth for Nothin'
Today on Bostonist.com I was pointed to an article on Boston.com about panhandling at the intersection of Mass Ave and Melnea Cass and the highway.
First of all I find the graphic text hilarious:
Rather than just say "Area of Interest", it basically says "THIS IS A BAD FIRST IMPRESSION FOR OUT-OF-TOWNERS EN ROUTE TO A SOX GAME".
Or something like that.
And then they open the article with such a cheeseball line: "The call went out: "Yo, po-po!" and within seconds, the panhandlers who meander with regularity through the intersection of Massachusetts Avenue and Melnea Cass Boulevard near Boston Medical Center scattered to parts unknown." Really quite unforgivable writing.
Pretty soon someone there is going to start an article with the line "It was a dark and stormy night.." at which point we can just hire a few wreckers to tear down 135 Morrissey Boulevard because all hope will have been lost.
Personally I don't really give a sh*t about panhandlers at that intersection. For the most part if you don't lower the window, and don't make eye contact, you're left alone. They might call you an a**hole, but if you can't spare a f*cking quarter, then they are sort of right.
And while the Globe article made it sound like the "street beggars" who run the Roxbury Tollbooth were innocent victims of a heartless economy, persecuted for being impoverished (hey! I could write for the Globe huh!), the reality is that often times there are other major issues that are the root of these people being homeless; drug addiction and mental illnesses to name an obvious two. So unless someone wants help and is willing to jump through a million bureaucratic hoops to get it, they are probably just going to continue to be panhandling, getting arrested, and basically living a life none of us would envy.
And when one considers that the nearby homeless shelter can hold up to 190 people, yet only about a dozen people ever seem to be panhandling that intersection, while the rest of the bunch are actually licensed flower sellers, the problem seems to be more aesthetic than endemic. I would be interested to see exactly how many assault by panhandlers on drivers there are in a year. I will see if I can find out.
Lastly, I am surprised that no mention was made of the kids who hang out there on the weekends in the warmer months. You know the ones, they are in bright orange shirts marked "Boston Chargers", shaking taped up tin cans at motorists. If you ask me they are worse than panhandlers, they swarm through the lines of stopped cars, tapping on windows, and dodging the light cycles. One day that is sure to end in tragedy. And can anyone tell me what exactly are the Boston Chargers?
Ok, I am done. Thanks Boston Globe for yet again providing me with the laugh of the day.
First of all I find the graphic text hilarious:
Rather than just say "Area of Interest", it basically says "THIS IS A BAD FIRST IMPRESSION FOR OUT-OF-TOWNERS EN ROUTE TO A SOX GAME".Or something like that.
And then they open the article with such a cheeseball line: "The call went out: "Yo, po-po!" and within seconds, the panhandlers who meander with regularity through the intersection of Massachusetts Avenue and Melnea Cass Boulevard near Boston Medical Center scattered to parts unknown." Really quite unforgivable writing.
Pretty soon someone there is going to start an article with the line "It was a dark and stormy night.." at which point we can just hire a few wreckers to tear down 135 Morrissey Boulevard because all hope will have been lost.
Personally I don't really give a sh*t about panhandlers at that intersection. For the most part if you don't lower the window, and don't make eye contact, you're left alone. They might call you an a**hole, but if you can't spare a f*cking quarter, then they are sort of right.
And while the Globe article made it sound like the "street beggars" who run the Roxbury Tollbooth were innocent victims of a heartless economy, persecuted for being impoverished (hey! I could write for the Globe huh!), the reality is that often times there are other major issues that are the root of these people being homeless; drug addiction and mental illnesses to name an obvious two. So unless someone wants help and is willing to jump through a million bureaucratic hoops to get it, they are probably just going to continue to be panhandling, getting arrested, and basically living a life none of us would envy.
And when one considers that the nearby homeless shelter can hold up to 190 people, yet only about a dozen people ever seem to be panhandling that intersection, while the rest of the bunch are actually licensed flower sellers, the problem seems to be more aesthetic than endemic. I would be interested to see exactly how many assault by panhandlers on drivers there are in a year. I will see if I can find out.
Lastly, I am surprised that no mention was made of the kids who hang out there on the weekends in the warmer months. You know the ones, they are in bright orange shirts marked "Boston Chargers", shaking taped up tin cans at motorists. If you ask me they are worse than panhandlers, they swarm through the lines of stopped cars, tapping on windows, and dodging the light cycles. One day that is sure to end in tragedy. And can anyone tell me what exactly are the Boston Chargers?
Ok, I am done. Thanks Boston Globe for yet again providing me with the laugh of the day.
Sunday, May 04, 2008
What the Natick Collection really needs....
Is a big f*cking luxury/high-end casino. If they want something luxury/high-end to make money that is.
An article on Boston.com reported on the lack of luxury spending out at the Natick Collection, you can read about it here: Downscaled hopes for an upscale mall
For some reason the article really irritated me. I don't know if it has to do with the fact that lately I have found that most everything I read on Boston.com is either blah or irrelevant, or if it is because I think that the Natick Collection is just about the dumbest idea in retailing ever, or if it is because most of the people quoted in the article sound as though they ought to have their heads shoved up their asses.
Let me just state for the record that everything I know about Natick is based on no better information that the fact that I've only been there about four times in my life, and that I only know about five people who live there. And I hardly visit them because you know what? Natick is f*cking far from Boston.
However even in my limited opinion, it never really struck me that the people who moved to Natick did so to go shopping at high-end luxury retailers. Mostly the people I know who moved there did so to raise families, to be in a suburban commuter community, to be away from the "City". They are people who wear Gap chinos because they are wash and wear - show me one parent out there who sees a "Dry Clean Only" tag and doesn't immediately put the item immediately back on the rack.
So when I first read about the Natick Collection, I wondered who would buy a million-plus apartment at a mall, to then go downstairs and buy a pair of Manolos, and then stroll over to Sel de la Terre for dinner, without ever leaving the mall. Apparently the fancy, diamond-wearing, Chinese food eating woman on the homepage of the Natick Collection website is who. What a ridiculous photo! Who dresses like that - hair, make-up, jewelry - to eat greasy noodles on the floor in the middle of the day? Please.
It would seem to me that the folks who are into that sort of flashy consumerism want to be seen being chauffeured to the Capital Grille and then to the theater and later at the Four Seasons mingling with other spenderati rather than be ogled by the mall set. And in the city you have options. Really the Natick Collection is like a party on a boat - if it sucks, you better suck it up because there is no way out.
And anyway, is a Manolo in a mall, really a Manolo if no one else knows what it is?
The article only covered the high end retailers, although it did make mention that the Gap was pretty busy, as was Macy's. Right there is the DBATSO* phrase of the day - people are not really buying $3000 handbags at the minute. People want H&M, Forever 21, and 9 West - cheap, feel-good purchases, a kind of cotton candy for the soul as the proverbial belt gets cinched ever tighter.
But possibly there is another reason.
The expensive retailers seem to have an unfortunate opinion of the locals, and as everyone knows, if there is one thing New Money cannot stand, it is being talked down to. This is made painfully obvious when Betty Ruiz of Stil said: "It's been quiet. Even if you have money, you may not have taste. We have to educate our customers on style. It's hard. I thought it would be easier in Natick."
Wow, did you hear that you denizens of Natick, you have no taste! You need to be taught!
With an attitude like Betty's, it is no big surprise those luxury & high-end sales are sluggish.
*DBATSO - Don't Be Afraid To State Obvious.
An article on Boston.com reported on the lack of luxury spending out at the Natick Collection, you can read about it here: Downscaled hopes for an upscale mall
For some reason the article really irritated me. I don't know if it has to do with the fact that lately I have found that most everything I read on Boston.com is either blah or irrelevant, or if it is because I think that the Natick Collection is just about the dumbest idea in retailing ever, or if it is because most of the people quoted in the article sound as though they ought to have their heads shoved up their asses.
Let me just state for the record that everything I know about Natick is based on no better information that the fact that I've only been there about four times in my life, and that I only know about five people who live there. And I hardly visit them because you know what? Natick is f*cking far from Boston.
However even in my limited opinion, it never really struck me that the people who moved to Natick did so to go shopping at high-end luxury retailers. Mostly the people I know who moved there did so to raise families, to be in a suburban commuter community, to be away from the "City". They are people who wear Gap chinos because they are wash and wear - show me one parent out there who sees a "Dry Clean Only" tag and doesn't immediately put the item immediately back on the rack.
So when I first read about the Natick Collection, I wondered who would buy a million-plus apartment at a mall, to then go downstairs and buy a pair of Manolos, and then stroll over to Sel de la Terre for dinner, without ever leaving the mall. Apparently the fancy, diamond-wearing, Chinese food eating woman on the homepage of the Natick Collection website is who. What a ridiculous photo! Who dresses like that - hair, make-up, jewelry - to eat greasy noodles on the floor in the middle of the day? Please.
It would seem to me that the folks who are into that sort of flashy consumerism want to be seen being chauffeured to the Capital Grille and then to the theater and later at the Four Seasons mingling with other spenderati rather than be ogled by the mall set. And in the city you have options. Really the Natick Collection is like a party on a boat - if it sucks, you better suck it up because there is no way out.
And anyway, is a Manolo in a mall, really a Manolo if no one else knows what it is?
The article only covered the high end retailers, although it did make mention that the Gap was pretty busy, as was Macy's. Right there is the DBATSO* phrase of the day - people are not really buying $3000 handbags at the minute. People want H&M, Forever 21, and 9 West - cheap, feel-good purchases, a kind of cotton candy for the soul as the proverbial belt gets cinched ever tighter.
But possibly there is another reason.
The expensive retailers seem to have an unfortunate opinion of the locals, and as everyone knows, if there is one thing New Money cannot stand, it is being talked down to. This is made painfully obvious when Betty Ruiz of Stil said: "It's been quiet. Even if you have money, you may not have taste. We have to educate our customers on style. It's hard. I thought it would be easier in Natick."
Wow, did you hear that you denizens of Natick, you have no taste! You need to be taught!
With an attitude like Betty's, it is no big surprise those luxury & high-end sales are sluggish.
*DBATSO - Don't Be Afraid To State Obvious.
Thursday, May 01, 2008
Whatever he is, he is NOT gangster!
The Heraahld ran this picture in todays paypah:
For some bizzah reason they filed it under the Inside Track which is mostly known for provincial gossip and a weird, guess-who-did-what-or-who column once in a while.
I have no idea why they decided on this photo which was apparently taken in 2005, but I find it hilarious. Even more so that anyone would consider it a gang sign. Our beloved and belittled Mayah is like an angel food cake - white & airy. Not only that, but he is also completely unintelligible about 94.7% of the time, hence his nickname Mumbles.
And that is no joke. I met him once at the bakery where I worked and when I asked him what he wanted he said: "Gfarty! Hungindfth arbothed milk".
So that is not him flashing a gang sign, that is him mumbling in sign language. And anyway, look at how they are all dressed. That is not a gangster look at all.
That is gangster like gangster in the Marky Mark and the Funky Bunch kind of gangster way.
(And really you need to watch the video if for no other reason than to see Marky Mark lick his lips when he is in bed with his chick, because if you are even passing familiar with Dot boys, you will totally recognize THAT move. It's at about minute 2:41 and you're welcome.)
But yeah, back to the photo.
The best line comes from Menino's own office:
“I think he thought he was speaking in Italian,” said Menino’s spokesgal Dot Joyce. “Either that or he was making shadow puppets.”
Which sums up the Mayah perfectly.
Gfarty!
For some bizzah reason they filed it under the Inside Track which is mostly known for provincial gossip and a weird, guess-who-did-what-or-who column once in a while.I have no idea why they decided on this photo which was apparently taken in 2005, but I find it hilarious. Even more so that anyone would consider it a gang sign. Our beloved and belittled Mayah is like an angel food cake - white & airy. Not only that, but he is also completely unintelligible about 94.7% of the time, hence his nickname Mumbles.
And that is no joke. I met him once at the bakery where I worked and when I asked him what he wanted he said: "Gfarty! Hungindfth arbothed milk".
So that is not him flashing a gang sign, that is him mumbling in sign language. And anyway, look at how they are all dressed. That is not a gangster look at all.
That is gangster like gangster in the Marky Mark and the Funky Bunch kind of gangster way.
(And really you need to watch the video if for no other reason than to see Marky Mark lick his lips when he is in bed with his chick, because if you are even passing familiar with Dot boys, you will totally recognize THAT move. It's at about minute 2:41 and you're welcome.)
But yeah, back to the photo.
The best line comes from Menino's own office:
“I think he thought he was speaking in Italian,” said Menino’s spokesgal Dot Joyce. “Either that or he was making shadow puppets.”
Which sums up the Mayah perfectly.
Gfarty!
Sunday, April 27, 2008
The Albatross calls
Sometimes I love writing this blog.
Other times it is my albatross.
I really have absolutely nothing at all of interest to write about. Well, that's not true exactly.
But I have been out of sorts this weekend. I didn't get anything done on my to do list. No laundry, no house cleaning, no nothing. I did go to the gym which felt terrific, and I managed to do a little food shopping, which was necessary.
I also signed up for OkCupid because after a short & sweet distraction I am trying to figure out how to get my dating feet wet again. And I have to start somewhere.
Unbelievably enough I do not have stacks of date requests piling up at my feet. Not because I am not awesome! But more because I really haven't been very genuine about putting that vibe out there. When a guy flirts with me I get sort of panicky and sweaty and usually blurt out something completely inappropriate like "I love lamp" or "Snafghhrty".
Sad but true. I am working on it, I swear. So please, don't be shy - feel totally free to ask me out (uh, that is if you are male, single, & available). I promise that I will recover my entire vocabulary in time.
So yeah.
Oh wait no, I did go out last night with my pal Jo-Jo-Joann. If I was Asian I am pretty sure we'd be Dopplegangers. We go through pretty much the same sh*t, only she dates women and I date men. But we have some pretty similar emotional reactions to stuff. Sometimes it is just nice to talk to your Furby.
And I slept in really late today, which I never do. But that makes me tired all day.
Plus it was a cloudy, cool day and that makes me even more lethargic. So lethargic that I can't really imagine going to work tomorrow.
Which might also be due in part to the fact that I really ought to get a new job. Don't get me wrong - I love where I work. However I am not loving the paycheck. It's too small and living from paycheck to paycheck is getting to be less Bohemian and more boring.
*sigh*
I think that I just need a hot toddy and my bed. Everything will be back to rights tomorrow.
Other times it is my albatross.
I really have absolutely nothing at all of interest to write about. Well, that's not true exactly.
But I have been out of sorts this weekend. I didn't get anything done on my to do list. No laundry, no house cleaning, no nothing. I did go to the gym which felt terrific, and I managed to do a little food shopping, which was necessary.
I also signed up for OkCupid because after a short & sweet distraction I am trying to figure out how to get my dating feet wet again. And I have to start somewhere.
Unbelievably enough I do not have stacks of date requests piling up at my feet. Not because I am not awesome! But more because I really haven't been very genuine about putting that vibe out there. When a guy flirts with me I get sort of panicky and sweaty and usually blurt out something completely inappropriate like "I love lamp" or "Snafghhrty".
Sad but true. I am working on it, I swear. So please, don't be shy - feel totally free to ask me out (uh, that is if you are male, single, & available). I promise that I will recover my entire vocabulary in time.
So yeah.
Oh wait no, I did go out last night with my pal Jo-Jo-Joann. If I was Asian I am pretty sure we'd be Dopplegangers. We go through pretty much the same sh*t, only she dates women and I date men. But we have some pretty similar emotional reactions to stuff. Sometimes it is just nice to talk to your Furby.
And I slept in really late today, which I never do. But that makes me tired all day.
Plus it was a cloudy, cool day and that makes me even more lethargic. So lethargic that I can't really imagine going to work tomorrow.
Which might also be due in part to the fact that I really ought to get a new job. Don't get me wrong - I love where I work. However I am not loving the paycheck. It's too small and living from paycheck to paycheck is getting to be less Bohemian and more boring.
*sigh*
I think that I just need a hot toddy and my bed. Everything will be back to rights tomorrow.
Monday, April 21, 2008
Let Me Explain One More Time: NO
I've said it before, and I will say it again: I will never, ever run a marathon.
And I am perfectly aware that when statements like that are made, the opposite quite often happens. Like how I said I would never ever quit smoking (I did) and that how I would never ever join a gym (I have), or how I would never learn to swim underwater without plugging my nose (I can).
But I will never, ever run a marathon.
That kind of long distance running makes scrambled eggs out of the brain and a ropey mess out of everything else.
Who else in their right mind would sh*t themselves simply to make a better time?
(It happens WAAAAY more often that just than that one time with Utta Pippig. Gross then, gross now.)
And honestly when I see some of those runners taking these weird rubber legged half run-half walk steps across the finish line I am tempted to immediately call them an ambulance.
Because if it wasn't Patriots Day and they weren't crossing a finish line and they were doing that - I would immediately dial 9-1-1.
And I am perfectly aware that when statements like that are made, the opposite quite often happens. Like how I said I would never ever quit smoking (I did) and that how I would never ever join a gym (I have), or how I would never learn to swim underwater without plugging my nose (I can).
But I will never, ever run a marathon.
That kind of long distance running makes scrambled eggs out of the brain and a ropey mess out of everything else.
Who else in their right mind would sh*t themselves simply to make a better time?
(It happens WAAAAY more often that just than that one time with Utta Pippig. Gross then, gross now.)
And honestly when I see some of those runners taking these weird rubber legged half run-half walk steps across the finish line I am tempted to immediately call them an ambulance.
Because if it wasn't Patriots Day and they weren't crossing a finish line and they were doing that - I would immediately dial 9-1-1.
Sunday, April 20, 2008
More Real Estate Crap I Hate
You might remember my post earlier on certain overused real estate terms that make me bonkers... you can re-read all about it HERE.
Well today I came across THIS real estate listing.
(click on it to make it bigger)
I don't even know where to start about all the things about this ad that grate on my eyes/ears/brain.
From the use of the word "intriguing" in the headline to describe the penthouse, to the "essentially new construction", to the jacuzzi in the bedroom....
It all just hurts so very very much.
Let me let the ad do the "talking" so to speak:
"original gumwood ballusters evoke the history of the history of Cambridge and the house that once was" (Huh? The only part of that sentence that makes sense are the first two words. It's 'balusters' by the way.)
"luxorious cabinetry" (wrong!)
"Essentially new construction with an incredible location" (so the location comes with the unit? how convenient.)
"A 100 year make-over with brand new everything" (It took a 100 years to make over? Well that would explain the 'essentially new' part)
Ugh, I could go on. Oh wait! I will!
A fricking Jacuzzi IN THE BEDROOM.
With "with fireplace views from Jacuzzi tub!"
I have never understood the Jacuzzi in the bedroom. Tub, toilets, sinks, all that crap belongs in the BATHROOM. It used to be that if you had those things in the bedroom it meant you were living in a flophouse. A fancy flophouse.
No wonder housing sales are slumping. They are slouching towards idiocy.
Just don't get me started on the ad that touted a "coy pond" as a garden feature.
Well today I came across THIS real estate listing.
(click on it to make it bigger)
I don't even know where to start about all the things about this ad that grate on my eyes/ears/brain.
From the use of the word "intriguing" in the headline to describe the penthouse, to the "essentially new construction", to the jacuzzi in the bedroom....
It all just hurts so very very much.
Let me let the ad do the "talking" so to speak:
"original gumwood ballusters evoke the history of the history of Cambridge and the house that once was" (Huh? The only part of that sentence that makes sense are the first two words. It's 'balusters' by the way.)
"luxorious cabinetry" (wrong!)
"Essentially new construction with an incredible location" (so the location comes with the unit? how convenient.)
"A 100 year make-over with brand new everything" (It took a 100 years to make over? Well that would explain the 'essentially new' part)
Ugh, I could go on. Oh wait! I will!
A fricking Jacuzzi IN THE BEDROOM.
With "with fireplace views from Jacuzzi tub!"
I have never understood the Jacuzzi in the bedroom. Tub, toilets, sinks, all that crap belongs in the BATHROOM. It used to be that if you had those things in the bedroom it meant you were living in a flophouse. A fancy flophouse.
No wonder housing sales are slumping. They are slouching towards idiocy.
Just don't get me started on the ad that touted a "coy pond" as a garden feature.
Friday, April 18, 2008
Perfect work insult
The other day I told my lovely co-worker to please stop poking me in the turkey wing. She was standing behind me poking at me in the part of my shoulder that is basically too close to my armpit for poking comfortability.
I told her to "quiddaat*!!!!". We joke a lot. She is frickin' funny.
Anyway, her response to my "quiddaat" was to say "Oh yeah? Well, next time I'm gonna slap you in the burger!"
SAY WHAT?
That sounds SO inappropriate, but only because I am gutter-minded.
And anyway, she is so skinny and scrawny she doesn't even have a burger to slap. She's more the chicken nugget sort.
So today when I was venting to the Evil Twin about how a different, not so nice, co-worker was "slapping my burger" and how it was not right because Wednesdays are burger-slapping days, the Evil Twin sent me this response:
Uh, no, since it's a long weekend and you work for the county the code reads:
"Wednesday, from here on out will be and henceforth known as, burger slapping day unless heretofore a Friday before a State mandated holiday made up to accommodate tall thin people aimlessly running around which will therefore become another burger slapping day."
So there you go, the exception to Burger Slapping Wednesday rule. And don't you forget it.
Or I might have to slap you in the corndog.
* "quiddaat" is how we say "quit it" in our house.
I told her to "quiddaat*!!!!". We joke a lot. She is frickin' funny.
Anyway, her response to my "quiddaat" was to say "Oh yeah? Well, next time I'm gonna slap you in the burger!"
SAY WHAT?
That sounds SO inappropriate, but only because I am gutter-minded.
And anyway, she is so skinny and scrawny she doesn't even have a burger to slap. She's more the chicken nugget sort.
So today when I was venting to the Evil Twin about how a different, not so nice, co-worker was "slapping my burger" and how it was not right because Wednesdays are burger-slapping days, the Evil Twin sent me this response:
Uh, no, since it's a long weekend and you work for the county the code reads:
"Wednesday, from here on out will be and henceforth known as, burger slapping day unless heretofore a Friday before a State mandated holiday made up to accommodate tall thin people aimlessly running around which will therefore become another burger slapping day."
So there you go, the exception to Burger Slapping Wednesday rule. And don't you forget it.
Or I might have to slap you in the corndog.
* "quiddaat" is how we say "quit it" in our house.
Thursday, April 17, 2008
Why I am so tired this week.
A piano is sucking the life out of me. An oboe AND a piano.
Namely the piano that starts the Cheers theme.
"making your way in the world today takes everything you got!"
Channel 38 now runs an episode of Cheers at 11pm. There is something about the cornball opening theme that sort of hypnotizes me and lulls me into watching the whole episode.
And by the time the credits and ending theme roll at 11:30, and that oboe music starts up, I am completely in a deep trance.
At least I think it is an oboe. Quite frankly I don't know diddley-poo-poo about musical instruments. It could be a flute. Or a pan pipe for all I know.
What I do know is that I cannot resist the Cheers re-run. And it's sucking the life out of me.
Especially since I am also getting up these days at 6:30 in the morning to do writing exercises.
Ugh. I expect that I will only last until about next Wednesday.
Namely the piano that starts the Cheers theme.
"making your way in the world today takes everything you got!"
Channel 38 now runs an episode of Cheers at 11pm. There is something about the cornball opening theme that sort of hypnotizes me and lulls me into watching the whole episode.
And by the time the credits and ending theme roll at 11:30, and that oboe music starts up, I am completely in a deep trance.
At least I think it is an oboe. Quite frankly I don't know diddley-poo-poo about musical instruments. It could be a flute. Or a pan pipe for all I know.
What I do know is that I cannot resist the Cheers re-run. And it's sucking the life out of me.
Especially since I am also getting up these days at 6:30 in the morning to do writing exercises.
Ugh. I expect that I will only last until about next Wednesday.
Monday, April 14, 2008
Hey, look what I found!!!
It was peeking out at me from behind some trees!
Here's a closer look:
I think it is sad to be so far away from Downtown.
Saturday, April 12, 2008
Why you want to watch this video
My favorite celeb blog is The Superficial which sadly is not updated on the weekend.
So instead I catch up on the late shows over on People.com because they conveniently clip together the funny bits of all the shows into a few minute segment.
This one you have to watch, if only to hear sweet little Betty White call Craig Ferguson an illegal immigrant. Although Stephen Colbert dry-heaving is funny too.
Click HERE to watch.
So instead I catch up on the late shows over on People.com because they conveniently clip together the funny bits of all the shows into a few minute segment.
This one you have to watch, if only to hear sweet little Betty White call Craig Ferguson an illegal immigrant. Although Stephen Colbert dry-heaving is funny too.
Click HERE to watch.
Updated Nada Surf Review
Today, Saturday, is turning out to be a F*CKING wonderful day.
It's NOT raining out. I am NOT going to work. Things are starting to turn green in my backyard. The birds are chirping away. I have Nada Surf blaring on the radio.
I once read an article somewhere that said that everyone has a certain spot on their cerebral cortex that is scratched by certain sounds. Which apparently is why music makes people happy.
I believe that 100%. Right now I am listening to the Lucky album. Particularly to track 6 Are You Lightning? which has a chorus of "oohh ooh oohhh" or something like that and I can't help but want to sing along.
Which is how it was it was at their show on Thursday night. Pretty much I just sang along to every song. Which is I think what the lead singer, the wonderful Matthew Caws, kind of wanted. Because who wouldn't be excited about a packed venue singing along to songs you wrote. And singing along to Blizzard of '77 was the highlight for me, since I usually listen to that when I walk home and have to fight the urge to sing out loud and scare people.
Although it was very very cool when the crowd took over on Fruit Fly. And then again on Weightless. Gives me goosebumps just thinking about it.
What I like about their music is that the lyrics are sometimes both happy and a little sad at the same time, and the actual sound of all the instruments together does that cerebral cortex thing to me. If I were a dog, my leg would be twitching right now.
Oh, and the sound at the Paradise here in Boston is really good, unlike almost every other venue I have ever heard music at, I didn't leave completely deaf, and I could hear the band perfectly. I hope the new management doesn't f*ck it up.
The other thing to love seeing shows at smaller venues is that you can meet the band afterward.
That's how I got to meet Aqualung with FabAmy (and no, they are not a Jethro Tull cover band), and how I got my picture taken (sort of) with Rhett Miller, and how I got to meet Matthew Caws, who is a very sweet and very personable performer. I am in love with him now - well not the actual person, but rather the musician character. Sorry Rhett.
Ah, yeah, today is turning out to be a great day.
It's NOT raining out. I am NOT going to work. Things are starting to turn green in my backyard. The birds are chirping away. I have Nada Surf blaring on the radio.
I once read an article somewhere that said that everyone has a certain spot on their cerebral cortex that is scratched by certain sounds. Which apparently is why music makes people happy.
I believe that 100%. Right now I am listening to the Lucky album. Particularly to track 6 Are You Lightning? which has a chorus of "oohh ooh oohhh" or something like that and I can't help but want to sing along.
Which is how it was it was at their show on Thursday night. Pretty much I just sang along to every song. Which is I think what the lead singer, the wonderful Matthew Caws, kind of wanted. Because who wouldn't be excited about a packed venue singing along to songs you wrote. And singing along to Blizzard of '77 was the highlight for me, since I usually listen to that when I walk home and have to fight the urge to sing out loud and scare people.
Although it was very very cool when the crowd took over on Fruit Fly. And then again on Weightless. Gives me goosebumps just thinking about it.
What I like about their music is that the lyrics are sometimes both happy and a little sad at the same time, and the actual sound of all the instruments together does that cerebral cortex thing to me. If I were a dog, my leg would be twitching right now.
Oh, and the sound at the Paradise here in Boston is really good, unlike almost every other venue I have ever heard music at, I didn't leave completely deaf, and I could hear the band perfectly. I hope the new management doesn't f*ck it up.
The other thing to love seeing shows at smaller venues is that you can meet the band afterward.
That's how I got to meet Aqualung with FabAmy (and no, they are not a Jethro Tull cover band), and how I got my picture taken (sort of) with Rhett Miller, and how I got to meet Matthew Caws, who is a very sweet and very personable performer. I am in love with him now - well not the actual person, but rather the musician character. Sorry Rhett.
Ah, yeah, today is turning out to be a great day.
Friday, April 11, 2008
I *heart* Nada Surf
Yes, it is true, I am in love with a band.
*sigh*
Not since Duran Duran have I felt this gooey! The show last night at the Paradise FRICKING ROCKED.
I went with CheapThrills Rob and I am really counting on him to post a more level-headed review of the show.
Right now I am sitting at my desk trying to figure out how on earth I am going to be able to get through the day today. If I don't die, I will post more about the show later.
*sigh*
Not since Duran Duran have I felt this gooey! The show last night at the Paradise FRICKING ROCKED.
I went with CheapThrills Rob and I am really counting on him to post a more level-headed review of the show.
Right now I am sitting at my desk trying to figure out how on earth I am going to be able to get through the day today. If I don't die, I will post more about the show later.
Tuesday, April 08, 2008
Sometimes I feel like I am an alien, like from outer space
All afternoon people around the office having been saying:
"Hey, what's the score? Anyone know the score?"
And all afternoon I have been like:
"What game? What are you people talking about???"
Oh right. The Red Sox home opener. Duh.
In other news, I correctly guessed (or rather cribbed from the Evil Twin's sheet) that Kansas would win the basketball bracket thingy and I won the office pool. Whoo hoo!
I should be so lucky in guessing winning lottery numbers right.
"Hey, what's the score? Anyone know the score?"
And all afternoon I have been like:
"What game? What are you people talking about???"
Oh right. The Red Sox home opener. Duh.
In other news, I correctly guessed (or rather cribbed from the Evil Twin's sheet) that Kansas would win the basketball bracket thingy and I won the office pool. Whoo hoo!
I should be so lucky in guessing winning lottery numbers right.
Sunday, April 06, 2008
Because at heart I like to quantify sh*t...
Or contextualize... whatever.
Anyway did you see this headline?
185 Pounds of Cocaine Seized in Lynn Bust
Well, it got me thinking - what exactly is 185lbs of cocaine ?
Hmmm.
Cocaine is typically sold in grams so, according to a random online converter, 185 pounds is about 83,915 grams.
According to the White House Drug Policy website, the 2007 cost of pure cocaine was about $119.00 per gram, although at that time they also indicated that there was a cocaine shortage in New England.
Furthermore they estimated the street cost of powdered cocaine (cut, not pure) was selling for between $20 to $30 per gram in New York City, while in Bangor, ME a gram was selling for about $100.
The bust in Lynn netted 185 lbs/83,915g of coke, which officials claim is worth $8,400,000.00 - which works out to about $100 per gram.
Which means two things.
1. It was not pure cocaine, in case you're curious.
and
2. At that price, we are definitely in a recession.
Anyway did you see this headline?
185 Pounds of Cocaine Seized in Lynn Bust
Well, it got me thinking - what exactly is 185lbs of cocaine ?
Hmmm.
Cocaine is typically sold in grams so, according to a random online converter, 185 pounds is about 83,915 grams.
According to the White House Drug Policy website, the 2007 cost of pure cocaine was about $119.00 per gram, although at that time they also indicated that there was a cocaine shortage in New England.
Furthermore they estimated the street cost of powdered cocaine (cut, not pure) was selling for between $20 to $30 per gram in New York City, while in Bangor, ME a gram was selling for about $100.
The bust in Lynn netted 185 lbs/83,915g of coke, which officials claim is worth $8,400,000.00 - which works out to about $100 per gram.
Which means two things.
1. It was not pure cocaine, in case you're curious.
and
2. At that price, we are definitely in a recession.
Thursday, April 03, 2008
NKOTB or Not
My inner teenager is secretly wikked excited to see Joey, Jonathon, Donnie, Jordan, and Danny hit the stage at the Tweetah Centah this summah. Especially if Tiff-ney opens for them.
Already I am sort of breathing a little funny. Is it hot in here?
Also let me explain that my inner teenager is a split personality.
I spent half my time as a teenager being misunderstood with my gay friends at Rudi's cafe on Newbury Street who drank iced coffee and did weird drugs in the bathroom and who lived in grody basement apartments in the South End. Yes, I am that old. *sigh* With them I listened to Depeche Mode, Bronski Beat, Madonna.
The other half of those teenage years were misspent hanging out with my big-haired girlfriend from Dot who drove the bitchinest Camaro EVAH and who taught me how to cuss with gusto and how to drive like a Masshole. She introduced me to wine coolers and to boys who wore Dakkar Noir and who wore turtlenecks, Champion sweatshirts, and Pumas - or maybe they were Adidas... And we listened to Guns n Roses, Poison, and I secretly fell in love with NKOTB.
When your favorite boy band is FROM where you live you start to figure that at some point you are going to meet one of them. In fact I was pretty sure that me and Donnie were going to be making out at Castle Island at some stage.
Heck I would STILL make out with Donnie at Castle Island.
Which is why I used to go to the New Store on the Block, you know, to be closer to the boys.
Thank god for growing up. I think.
And uh, I will totally go with you if you get the tickets...
Oh oh oh oh oh, the RIGHT STUFF!
Already I am sort of breathing a little funny. Is it hot in here?
Also let me explain that my inner teenager is a split personality.
I spent half my time as a teenager being misunderstood with my gay friends at Rudi's cafe on Newbury Street who drank iced coffee and did weird drugs in the bathroom and who lived in grody basement apartments in the South End. Yes, I am that old. *sigh* With them I listened to Depeche Mode, Bronski Beat, Madonna.
The other half of those teenage years were misspent hanging out with my big-haired girlfriend from Dot who drove the bitchinest Camaro EVAH and who taught me how to cuss with gusto and how to drive like a Masshole. She introduced me to wine coolers and to boys who wore Dakkar Noir and who wore turtlenecks, Champion sweatshirts, and Pumas - or maybe they were Adidas... And we listened to Guns n Roses, Poison, and I secretly fell in love with NKOTB.
When your favorite boy band is FROM where you live you start to figure that at some point you are going to meet one of them. In fact I was pretty sure that me and Donnie were going to be making out at Castle Island at some stage.
Heck I would STILL make out with Donnie at Castle Island.
Which is why I used to go to the New Store on the Block, you know, to be closer to the boys.
Thank god for growing up. I think.
And uh, I will totally go with you if you get the tickets...
Oh oh oh oh oh, the RIGHT STUFF!
Saturday, March 29, 2008
It's (maybe) the End of the Woooorld As We Know It....
So today I am browsing around on the front page of the NYT web page.
And I see that yeah more fighting in Iraq, more news from the Treasury, over in the Book Review section I see that John Grisham is putting out his like 4,856th book...
Then I read the story in the middle - click on the image to see it bigger:
ARE YOU FRIGGIN' KIDDING ME????
A giant particle blaster that could make a black hole that could eat up the Earth!??!?!
Now, I was so amazed that I immediately check to see the date because this seems like something they'd publish on April Fools Day.
(Which, FYI, is on Tuesday so watch out!). Today however is only March 29th.
Ok, but back to the particle blaster. I mean GIANT particle blaster.
The whole thing reeks of a Hollywood blockbuster really. It seems that some scientists spent $8 billion (half the price of the Big Dig!) to build this massive proton smasher to see if they can reconstruct the Big Bang.
The blaster being built by Swiss researchers in Hawaii. It seems that they haven't filed any safety reports, which seems to be the basis for the lawsuit.
Or something like that. The article is actually really well written, so you should read it.
Science gives me a massive headache, so I am extremely grateful that there are thousands of other people being scientists to invent stuff like medicine, and spaceships, and low-fat potato chips. Most of the article involved words like "quantum gravity", "elementary particles", and "quark-gluon plasma". So pretty much my eyes glazed over quickly.
I do believe the scientist who says that the chances of the giant particle blaster creating a black hole that will swallow the earth are about the same as it also creating an enormous dragon to eat us up.
However I also believe the scientist who says that it could make a black hole and just saying that the probability that it won't is not good enough.
Like one original researcher said: the "possibility that a black hole eats up the Earth is too serious a threat to leave it as a matter of argument among crackpots."
And according to the article, there were those who believed that the atom bomb would make the atmosphere catch on fire. Well that didn't happen, but that didn't make the atom bomb any safer to mankind.
I am just saying.
Ugh. All this science talk. I need a Bloody Mary and some aspirin.
And I see that yeah more fighting in Iraq, more news from the Treasury, over in the Book Review section I see that John Grisham is putting out his like 4,856th book...
Then I read the story in the middle - click on the image to see it bigger:
ARE YOU FRIGGIN' KIDDING ME????
A giant particle blaster that could make a black hole that could eat up the Earth!??!?!
Now, I was so amazed that I immediately check to see the date because this seems like something they'd publish on April Fools Day.
(Which, FYI, is on Tuesday so watch out!). Today however is only March 29th.
Ok, but back to the particle blaster. I mean GIANT particle blaster.
The whole thing reeks of a Hollywood blockbuster really. It seems that some scientists spent $8 billion (half the price of the Big Dig!) to build this massive proton smasher to see if they can reconstruct the Big Bang.
The blaster being built by Swiss researchers in Hawaii. It seems that they haven't filed any safety reports, which seems to be the basis for the lawsuit.
Or something like that. The article is actually really well written, so you should read it.
Science gives me a massive headache, so I am extremely grateful that there are thousands of other people being scientists to invent stuff like medicine, and spaceships, and low-fat potato chips. Most of the article involved words like "quantum gravity", "elementary particles", and "quark-gluon plasma". So pretty much my eyes glazed over quickly.
I do believe the scientist who says that the chances of the giant particle blaster creating a black hole that will swallow the earth are about the same as it also creating an enormous dragon to eat us up.
However I also believe the scientist who says that it could make a black hole and just saying that the probability that it won't is not good enough.
Like one original researcher said: the "possibility that a black hole eats up the Earth is too serious a threat to leave it as a matter of argument among crackpots."
And according to the article, there were those who believed that the atom bomb would make the atmosphere catch on fire. Well that didn't happen, but that didn't make the atom bomb any safer to mankind.
I am just saying.
Ugh. All this science talk. I need a Bloody Mary and some aspirin.
Wednesday, March 26, 2008
A different kind of market altogether.
I love to look at real estate listing, it satisfies a curiousity itch I have that they currently don't make a cream for.
Anyway, yesterday I was looking at property in London. Holy CRAP is that market insane!
I found a home for sale for 45 million pounds sterling. Which is ohhh about $90,000,000 dollars. Which written out for those of you bad at math is NINETY MILLION DOLLARS.
I don't even think that it comes furnished. But it does have a pool.
Check it out here: WHAT NINETY MILLION GETS YOU
However if that is a tich out of your range, perhaps THIS PLACE suits your budget better. Granted it is a fixer-upper, notice the boarded up windows and the need for "complete modernisation", but at only about $44,000,000 it's practically a bahgin!
I wonder if it comes with a cup of tea. Or maybe a butler.
Heh, this is clearly out of my range. And apparently out of the range of most Britons if THIS ARTICLE is to be believed.
Besides if I had $90,000,000 I would not spend it on a house. What dumb investment that would be. Sheesh!
I would definitely invest it in a new pair of shoes. And a new dual fuel stove/oven like this one.
Anyway, yesterday I was looking at property in London. Holy CRAP is that market insane!
I found a home for sale for 45 million pounds sterling. Which is ohhh about $90,000,000 dollars. Which written out for those of you bad at math is NINETY MILLION DOLLARS.
I don't even think that it comes furnished. But it does have a pool.
Check it out here: WHAT NINETY MILLION GETS YOU
However if that is a tich out of your range, perhaps THIS PLACE suits your budget better. Granted it is a fixer-upper, notice the boarded up windows and the need for "complete modernisation", but at only about $44,000,000 it's practically a bahgin!
I wonder if it comes with a cup of tea. Or maybe a butler.
Heh, this is clearly out of my range. And apparently out of the range of most Britons if THIS ARTICLE is to be believed.
Besides if I had $90,000,000 I would not spend it on a house. What dumb investment that would be. Sheesh!
I would definitely invest it in a new pair of shoes. And a new dual fuel stove/oven like this one.
Monday, March 24, 2008
Stuff like this makes me bonkers!
I know that in all journalism there are always two sides to every story, but it was hard to see both in an article in today's Noo Yawk Times.
This is the article: A Boy the Bullies Love to Beat Up, Repeatedly
I get it that kids are awful little sh*ts to each other - kids can mostly get away with saying and doing things to each other that adults get sued or go to jail over.
But what gets me totally riled up is the apparent laissez-faire attitude over the fact that this kid gets beaten up all the time. Seemingly he is mouthy to people and has a thing about shoving, but overlooking the beatings and the torment because of his behavior is unacceptable. It's cowardly to blame the victim.
And you know what? It is never, ever, ok to victimize someone. That's the simple truth.
A person who terrorizes another person can be a rapist, a murderer, a stalker, a terrorist, a molester, or a bully. I wonder how proud a parent of a bully is, knowing that their child falls into that category. Perhaps they cover their shame with bravado or self-justification, but their child will always have that monster lurking within them, no matter how they might later disguise it.
No one ever deserves to be bullied, no matter what. No single person is given the right to decide that someone else deserves to be punished - only a judge, a jury, or if you believe, God, can make that decision. That is how we have chosen to construct our society and you have the choice to like it, leave it, or change the rules for everyone if you want.
Don't get me wrong, I don't want everyone to suddenly hug and kiss and cuddle bunnies or something. Having major a**holes is a necessary evil in society, otherwise how would we know who to like? Just keep that sh*t to yourself, and tell your kids to do the same.
Ok, I am done with the venting. I will now step away slowly from the soapbox.
This is the article: A Boy the Bullies Love to Beat Up, Repeatedly
I get it that kids are awful little sh*ts to each other - kids can mostly get away with saying and doing things to each other that adults get sued or go to jail over.
But what gets me totally riled up is the apparent laissez-faire attitude over the fact that this kid gets beaten up all the time. Seemingly he is mouthy to people and has a thing about shoving, but overlooking the beatings and the torment because of his behavior is unacceptable. It's cowardly to blame the victim.
And you know what? It is never, ever, ok to victimize someone. That's the simple truth.
A person who terrorizes another person can be a rapist, a murderer, a stalker, a terrorist, a molester, or a bully. I wonder how proud a parent of a bully is, knowing that their child falls into that category. Perhaps they cover their shame with bravado or self-justification, but their child will always have that monster lurking within them, no matter how they might later disguise it.
No one ever deserves to be bullied, no matter what. No single person is given the right to decide that someone else deserves to be punished - only a judge, a jury, or if you believe, God, can make that decision. That is how we have chosen to construct our society and you have the choice to like it, leave it, or change the rules for everyone if you want.
Don't get me wrong, I don't want everyone to suddenly hug and kiss and cuddle bunnies or something. Having major a**holes is a necessary evil in society, otherwise how would we know who to like? Just keep that sh*t to yourself, and tell your kids to do the same.
Ok, I am done with the venting. I will now step away slowly from the soapbox.
Thursday, March 20, 2008
You know what sometimes keeps me up at night...
Sometimes I wonder how the Big Dig started. How any tunnel gets started really.
Not the paperwork and the planning and the politics and crap.
But like who was the FIRST person to make the very FIRST stab at the ground with their shovel and actually START the Big Dig.
Oh and not the photo-op stuff either.
Was it a Monday morning at 7am with some guy in a back hoe and another guy shouting at him "Hey Sully! A little more to the left! A little more...... more...... more...... YEAH! Right there! Dig right THERE!"
I am glad it's done, but these are the little details that sometimes I wonder about.
Not the paperwork and the planning and the politics and crap.
But like who was the FIRST person to make the very FIRST stab at the ground with their shovel and actually START the Big Dig.
Oh and not the photo-op stuff either.
Was it a Monday morning at 7am with some guy in a back hoe and another guy shouting at him "Hey Sully! A little more to the left! A little more...... more...... more...... YEAH! Right there! Dig right THERE!"
I am glad it's done, but these are the little details that sometimes I wonder about.
Monday, March 17, 2008
I don't know why I do it, but I know I can't help it....
Now that the Boston Herald allows commenting on articles, I can't help reading them, even though they pretty much almost always escalate in to a massive train wreck.
This also happens over on Universal Hub, which I also read daily. I am not sure if Boston.com allows comments, but I don't think so.
Commenting is a weird thing to begin with. For the most part, you might as well just be yelling out your opinions at a death metal concert for all the people who are actually going to hear you.
Like on the Herald, if there is an article that sheds any negative light on cops or on firemen, you invariably get the commenter who says that all cops/firemen should be fired, clean house, all on drugs, blah blah blah.
Which then brings out the commenter who says that all cops/firemen are all hard-working, honest, god-fearing saints protecting POS's like the first commenter.
Ad nauseum.
Or like every single blog post about pedestrians & drivers that generates forty-eight billion comments about how all drivers should be killed and how all walkers should be run over.
So boring. And sometimes I wonder if commenting is sort of like talking to yourself. I certainly sometimes feel that blogging is like talking to myself. Exactly who really reads and contemplates and considers a rant posted as a comment?
Kind of like that theory about the bear crapping in the woods. Or wait, no, like that tree falling in the woods. Yeah something like that. Who really is around to hear that.
But I still can't stop reading them. It is my secret shame. Ahh the glorious, potty-mouthed, vituperative, squalor of it all.
I want to roll around in it.
This also happens over on Universal Hub, which I also read daily. I am not sure if Boston.com allows comments, but I don't think so.
Commenting is a weird thing to begin with. For the most part, you might as well just be yelling out your opinions at a death metal concert for all the people who are actually going to hear you.
Like on the Herald, if there is an article that sheds any negative light on cops or on firemen, you invariably get the commenter who says that all cops/firemen should be fired, clean house, all on drugs, blah blah blah.
Which then brings out the commenter who says that all cops/firemen are all hard-working, honest, god-fearing saints protecting POS's like the first commenter.
Ad nauseum.
Or like every single blog post about pedestrians & drivers that generates forty-eight billion comments about how all drivers should be killed and how all walkers should be run over.
So boring. And sometimes I wonder if commenting is sort of like talking to yourself. I certainly sometimes feel that blogging is like talking to myself. Exactly who really reads and contemplates and considers a rant posted as a comment?
Kind of like that theory about the bear crapping in the woods. Or wait, no, like that tree falling in the woods. Yeah something like that. Who really is around to hear that.
But I still can't stop reading them. It is my secret shame. Ahh the glorious, potty-mouthed, vituperative, squalor of it all.
I want to roll around in it.
Evacuation Day Rocks!
Seeing as how I now work for "we, the people" I get all sorts of holidays off.
And I am particularly excited to have Evacuation Day off. I don't know why it makes me so excited, but it totally does. Perhaps it's because I am a "herstory dorkus" as one person calls me. And because I guess I prefer "event" holidays like the Fourth of July, to "people" holidays like Columbus Day.
And so today when I called the bank to see if they were open (my Mom didn't believe me that they are), the nice customer service person told me I was the third caller that day asking.
So I told her about Evacuation Day - probably to her complete amusement. But at least now she knows!
I am going to celebrate this day, and be grateful that we celebrate Thanksgiving instead of Guy Fawkes Day, traded the Queen for the Fourth of July, and Dunkins instead of tea.
Oh yeah, and Happy St. Patricks Day!
And I am particularly excited to have Evacuation Day off. I don't know why it makes me so excited, but it totally does. Perhaps it's because I am a "herstory dorkus" as one person calls me. And because I guess I prefer "event" holidays like the Fourth of July, to "people" holidays like Columbus Day.
And so today when I called the bank to see if they were open (my Mom didn't believe me that they are), the nice customer service person told me I was the third caller that day asking.
So I told her about Evacuation Day - probably to her complete amusement. But at least now she knows!
I am going to celebrate this day, and be grateful that we celebrate Thanksgiving instead of Guy Fawkes Day, traded the Queen for the Fourth of July, and Dunkins instead of tea.
Oh yeah, and Happy St. Patricks Day!
Sunday, March 16, 2008
Once I start reading Odds & Ends, forget it....
Who the f*ck would ever send a turnip to a law office?
And you know that the Bomb Squad really REALLY wanted to bring out the water cannon and blow that sh*t up, even after seeing nothing to indicate that it was a bomb on x-ray.
Because blowing stuff up is AWESOME! Just ask Michael Bay.
************************
I know it is old news, but I STILL can't get over the fact that a woman in Kansas sat on a toilet for two years.
As a matter of fact I am a little obsessed by that. I mean my bathroom is the most boring room in my house and when I know I am going to be in there for a while, I will admit to bringing reading material in there with me.
Plus it's got to be funny which is how I got through The Frogs. I would have never read it otherwise - outside of high school anyway.
But I don't think I have ever gotten past the half-hour mark. Unless you count that time I had the most awful, horrendous, attack of food poisoning, and then sitting there was more for convenience.
Yep, TWO whole years. I am fascinated.
************************
And finally this story that I just do not get.
A bunch of knitters in Ohio are knitting tree cozys.
It's a public art thing, and oh my gosh I think it looks SO pretty. But I bet there are people out there who could use a person cozy.
Like maybe homeless people.
And maybe the tree is like "what the f*ck Grandma is with this stupid sweater?! No one on the block wears stripes anymore. Puh-leeease!"
I am just saying...
And you know that the Bomb Squad really REALLY wanted to bring out the water cannon and blow that sh*t up, even after seeing nothing to indicate that it was a bomb on x-ray.
Because blowing stuff up is AWESOME! Just ask Michael Bay.
************************
I know it is old news, but I STILL can't get over the fact that a woman in Kansas sat on a toilet for two years.
As a matter of fact I am a little obsessed by that. I mean my bathroom is the most boring room in my house and when I know I am going to be in there for a while, I will admit to bringing reading material in there with me.
Plus it's got to be funny which is how I got through The Frogs. I would have never read it otherwise - outside of high school anyway.
But I don't think I have ever gotten past the half-hour mark. Unless you count that time I had the most awful, horrendous, attack of food poisoning, and then sitting there was more for convenience.
Yep, TWO whole years. I am fascinated.
************************
And finally this story that I just do not get.
A bunch of knitters in Ohio are knitting tree cozys.
It's a public art thing, and oh my gosh I think it looks SO pretty. But I bet there are people out there who could use a person cozy.
Like maybe homeless people.
And maybe the tree is like "what the f*ck Grandma is with this stupid sweater?! No one on the block wears stripes anymore. Puh-leeease!"
I am just saying...Monday, March 10, 2008
More fun times at the RMV
So today, being my birthday and all, I went down to the RMV to renew my drivers license.
I figured I would just pop down, have my photo taken, pay my $40 and go have a little lunch and buy myself a birthday present.
Well I figured wrong.
Somehow between February 15th and today, two tickets from 2006, a excise bill from 2006, and a ticket from Watertown magically appeared on my record.
After waiting for over an hour the nice registry lady said "sorry, no can do". In fairness she gave me the numbers for all the departments and told me to come right back as soon as I cleared it all up.
Foolish me. I thought I could pay everything over the phone.
I started with the City of Boston parking clerk. After waiting on hold for 9 minutes I am told that sometimes even though I checked at city hall (I was there on 2/15) and was told I owed nothing, sometimes these things just "come up". Magically, from the archives.
Even though I didn't remember these two tickets, the locations seemed to fit and so I paid them . (Here is a tip: the pay-by-phone line is SO sensitive to sound that it took prompts from bystanders. Very annoying!)
Then I moved on to the excise tax. But guess what? You can't pay them over the phone. Only in person or online. How inconvenient is that? Very. Because let me tell you, the RMV is certainly NOT going to let me use their computer! I should have gone to the Apple Store and borrowed an I-Phone (see Dad, that is why I need an I-Phone!)
At this point I sort of lost the plot a little.
It is totally inconvenient to get to the RMV, wait an hour and then be told that you have to go to City Hall - both in Boston and in Watertown, and then go back and get your new license - if your head hasn't exploded by then.
When I finally got home I checked online to see what checks I had paid to Boston and to Watertown, and sure enough I already paid them, they were just never cleared from my record.
So now I have to order copies of the checks and mail them in. Allegedly Boston will refund the payment, but Watertown's whole system is down because of the recent weather (!) and they couldn't even tell me if I actually owed anything.
Which means that I could not have gotten my license today anyway - according to the Watertown clerk.
I still do owe the 2006 excise tax. Apparently I didn't pay it when I bought my car in '06 - even though I really think I did pay it around the same time I registered my car. But I must not have paid by check. Dang!
Thankfully Even Stephen took me out for lunch. And then the Evil Twin took my out to buy stuff.
I feel much better, but I still f*cking hate dealing with petty City b*llsh*t!
**** UPDATE ****
Fair play to the Watertown Parking Clerks office who were able to remove the tickets and clear my record over the phone. If you are nice to them, they are nice back.
I should buy a lottery ticket to celebrate. Then I can take you all out for a beer!
I figured I would just pop down, have my photo taken, pay my $40 and go have a little lunch and buy myself a birthday present.
Well I figured wrong.
Somehow between February 15th and today, two tickets from 2006, a excise bill from 2006, and a ticket from Watertown magically appeared on my record.
After waiting for over an hour the nice registry lady said "sorry, no can do". In fairness she gave me the numbers for all the departments and told me to come right back as soon as I cleared it all up.
Foolish me. I thought I could pay everything over the phone.
I started with the City of Boston parking clerk. After waiting on hold for 9 minutes I am told that sometimes even though I checked at city hall (I was there on 2/15) and was told I owed nothing, sometimes these things just "come up". Magically, from the archives.
Even though I didn't remember these two tickets, the locations seemed to fit and so I paid them . (Here is a tip: the pay-by-phone line is SO sensitive to sound that it took prompts from bystanders. Very annoying!)
Then I moved on to the excise tax. But guess what? You can't pay them over the phone. Only in person or online. How inconvenient is that? Very. Because let me tell you, the RMV is certainly NOT going to let me use their computer! I should have gone to the Apple Store and borrowed an I-Phone (see Dad, that is why I need an I-Phone!)
At this point I sort of lost the plot a little.
It is totally inconvenient to get to the RMV, wait an hour and then be told that you have to go to City Hall - both in Boston and in Watertown, and then go back and get your new license - if your head hasn't exploded by then.
When I finally got home I checked online to see what checks I had paid to Boston and to Watertown, and sure enough I already paid them, they were just never cleared from my record.
So now I have to order copies of the checks and mail them in. Allegedly Boston will refund the payment, but Watertown's whole system is down because of the recent weather (!) and they couldn't even tell me if I actually owed anything.
Which means that I could not have gotten my license today anyway - according to the Watertown clerk.
I still do owe the 2006 excise tax. Apparently I didn't pay it when I bought my car in '06 - even though I really think I did pay it around the same time I registered my car. But I must not have paid by check. Dang!
Thankfully Even Stephen took me out for lunch. And then the Evil Twin took my out to buy stuff.
I feel much better, but I still f*cking hate dealing with petty City b*llsh*t!
**** UPDATE ****
Fair play to the Watertown Parking Clerks office who were able to remove the tickets and clear my record over the phone. If you are nice to them, they are nice back.
I should buy a lottery ticket to celebrate. Then I can take you all out for a beer!
Sunday, March 09, 2008
I am just saying....
Nothing peeves me more than poor spelling.
Which is why I am horrible at texting. None of this "4COL" or "STFU" for me thanks.
So when I see spelling mistakes on Boston.com like this... :
it makes me a little bonkers.
I know that I muck up words & punctuation & grammar & the MBTA Trip Planner all the time, but this is a blog I call "Shamrag" for crying aloud!
I could write penis-vagina-elbow in my headline if I wanted, I am low brow. Or peenus-vajiyna-elbo for that matter.
When you are bringing the "nooze" to the masses, f*cking run spell check people!
UPDATE:
And now it is fixed. I must be on their feed.
Or the junior editor just got his pee-pee slapped.
And if not, they will when Sr Editor sees that they haven't fixed the headline.
Just the title in the main box.
Tick tock tick tock, let's see how fast the feed refreshes.
Which is why I am horrible at texting. None of this "4COL" or "STFU" for me thanks.
So when I see spelling mistakes on Boston.com like this... :
it makes me a little bonkers.
I know that I muck up words & punctuation & grammar & the MBTA Trip Planner all the time, but this is a blog I call "Shamrag" for crying aloud!
I could write penis-vagina-elbow in my headline if I wanted, I am low brow. Or peenus-vajiyna-elbo for that matter.
When you are bringing the "nooze" to the masses, f*cking run spell check people!
UPDATE:
And now it is fixed. I must be on their feed.
Or the junior editor just got his pee-pee slapped.
And if not, they will when Sr Editor sees that they haven't fixed the headline.
Just the title in the main box.
Tick tock tick tock, let's see how fast the feed refreshes.
How the other half lives.
Unless I win the lottery, make that Megamillions, chances are I won't ever be renting a $6000.00 one bedroom apartment at the Mandarin Oriental.
Although, if I did have the income enough to be able to rent a one bedroom for that price, I don't think I would.
I read this article on Boston.com and quite frankly I think the emperor is, as they say, butt nekkid.
I at least thought that the article would better explain to a mere mortal like myself what makes a one bedroom worth $6000 a month.
The amenities appear to include take out from Sel de la Terre, room service from the hotel part of the complex, dog walking, and laundry. I am curious if these services are included in the rent, or if they are extra.
I don't really care that much that the countertops are "gleaming", or that the floor-to-ceiling windows are soundproofed (because duh! That isn't an extra these days), or that there'll be a private mall entrance, because this all sounds similar to the design of the Natick Collection apartments.
Oh wait, it sounds like just about every apartment ad. Well, except for the mall entrance part. Unless you are looking at the Avalon at the Prudential apartments.
I would love to have $6000 a month to spend on shelter. I would pay off my mortgage in like two seconds. And then I would build an endless pool and that to me would be the height of indulgence.
Oh wait, I would also eat at Sel de la Terre a LOT more. Seriously, I love their food.
And give more to the Greater Boston Food Bank.
Although, if I did have the income enough to be able to rent a one bedroom for that price, I don't think I would.
I read this article on Boston.com and quite frankly I think the emperor is, as they say, butt nekkid.
I at least thought that the article would better explain to a mere mortal like myself what makes a one bedroom worth $6000 a month.
The amenities appear to include take out from Sel de la Terre, room service from the hotel part of the complex, dog walking, and laundry. I am curious if these services are included in the rent, or if they are extra.
I don't really care that much that the countertops are "gleaming", or that the floor-to-ceiling windows are soundproofed (because duh! That isn't an extra these days), or that there'll be a private mall entrance, because this all sounds similar to the design of the Natick Collection apartments.
Oh wait, it sounds like just about every apartment ad. Well, except for the mall entrance part. Unless you are looking at the Avalon at the Prudential apartments.
I would love to have $6000 a month to spend on shelter. I would pay off my mortgage in like two seconds. And then I would build an endless pool and that to me would be the height of indulgence.
Oh wait, I would also eat at Sel de la Terre a LOT more. Seriously, I love their food.
And give more to the Greater Boston Food Bank.
Friday, March 07, 2008
Homicide @ Dudley Square Today
Traffic is a big f*cking knot in and around and out of Dudley tonight. Seek alternate routes if you can.
Seemingly there was a fatal stabbing late this afternoon at the corner of Washington and Melnea Cass.
I wonder if it's related to yesterday's double stabbing at Roxbury Crossing.
Hopefully it's not just random. I walk in that direction to go to work and one time I did see a very angry man waving a big kitchen knife. I crossed the street and wound up walking the rest of the way home with a neighbor.
I sure hope it wasn't that crazy person.
Seemingly there was a fatal stabbing late this afternoon at the corner of Washington and Melnea Cass.
I wonder if it's related to yesterday's double stabbing at Roxbury Crossing.
Hopefully it's not just random. I walk in that direction to go to work and one time I did see a very angry man waving a big kitchen knife. I crossed the street and wound up walking the rest of the way home with a neighbor.
I sure hope it wasn't that crazy person.
Tuesday, March 04, 2008
End of winterrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr blurgggggggg
The reason I haven't posted anything in like forever is because I feel like poo.
This is the part of winter I cannot stand.
My funny bone is completely out of order, I feel like drinking heavily, I am excited when the temps soar into the 40's, and my house is starting to stink like fust.
I am totally dragging the line right now. Thank god for the NASCAR fantasy group I belong to. It gives me something to look forward to every weekend.
Otherwise I really would probably start with the drinking & crap.
But fo'shizz, once the weather starts to get nice again, the funny bone will sort out and I sweah I will be back on form.
This is the part of winter I cannot stand.
My funny bone is completely out of order, I feel like drinking heavily, I am excited when the temps soar into the 40's, and my house is starting to stink like fust.
I am totally dragging the line right now. Thank god for the NASCAR fantasy group I belong to. It gives me something to look forward to every weekend.
Otherwise I really would probably start with the drinking & crap.
But fo'shizz, once the weather starts to get nice again, the funny bone will sort out and I sweah I will be back on form.
Friday, February 29, 2008
Addicted to Firebrand
I don't know why I am so addicted to Firebrand, but I am.
It's on at 11pm on Channel 68 and all the show is are commercials from around the world.
Hysterical.
Especially the Axe ads. They are funny all over the world - it's a universal thing.
It's on at 11pm on Channel 68 and all the show is are commercials from around the world.
Hysterical.
Especially the Axe ads. They are funny all over the world - it's a universal thing.
Friday, February 22, 2008
For $2.2 million I hope the lights are included
Look what just came on the market:
If you are having trouble recognizing it, maybe this will jog your memory:
Neighbors (and Al Gore) are probably thrilled, but kids everywhere are going to be wondering who canceled Christmas.
If you are having trouble recognizing it, maybe this will jog your memory:
Neighbors (and Al Gore) are probably thrilled, but kids everywhere are going to be wondering who canceled Christmas.
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