Back on the Horse

Is it back on the horse? Or back on the bike? Why are my cliches so fuzzy this morning? Why can't I remember which it is?

But it doesn't really matter, because it's not a horse or a bike I'm back on, but rather: the treadmill. (Argh. Why can't I figure out what it is? Bike or horse? Horse or bike? I haven't had a Diet Coke yet and it's 10AM... this is probably what it is.)

In May I was going to run a half-marathon. 12 days of exhausting plague leading up to the run thwarted that dream. Sad, considering I'm a non-runner and had worked myself from 3 to 10 miles. (10 is as far as I got.) If you're particularly bored on this Tuesday, you can read the recaps of when I hit seven, eight, nine, and ten miles. (Seven is still one of my most viewed blogs behind Top Model)

So, I'm back in business. I gave up running the last three months but have decided to complete a half marathon. A few of us are going to run in Hartford, CT on October 13 (anyone is welcome to join). 10 weeks and change until the the half. No more failed attempts, I need to check this off my list.

I went to my new gym last night--and it's a five-step upgrade from Gold's. (Not too hard to beat.) Each cardio machine has a personal flat screen TV in front of it with full cable. My treadmill also had to little fans built into the front panel. Towel service... sauna... when did my life get so posh?

Wow. I can't remember the last time I wrote as boring a post.

Horse or bike? Bike or horse?

Checking In

A crazy news day.

They found bodies in the Charles River (MA), the Jordan River (UT), and the Willamette River (OR) today. I'm hoping it wasn't any of you.

Can I initiate a roll call?

TGI the 5th of 12 working days

It seems I only ever make lists on Fridays. So why stop now...?

• I'm going through Harry withdrawls.
• This has been an insane birthday week... 4 and counting!
• Did the internet shut off in certain parts of the country? Blogging has been slow, commenting has been slow, F-booking has been slow, emailing has been slow.
• I saw "Live Free or Die Hard" on Monday night. It was surprisingly very enjoyable--rather humorous. I love Bruce's sidekick; he started on Ed and I find him strangly, nerdy-hacker attractive. I just earned a few more cyber geek points.
• In other nerd news, earlier this week, Julie, Mary and I made an uber nerd joke about plain text quotes, smart quotes, and air quotes. Talk about geeking out. It might be one of my favorite memories of the week.
• P.S. When did I get to be such a techie? I'm considered a web developer at work--you know people go to school for the stuff I do. I'm trained to be sitting somewhere writing press releases. Proof that your after-school experience is what you make it.
• I'm working both Saturday and Sunday this weekend. Twelve straight working days when it's all said and done... The phrase TGIF has little to no bearing if Friday isn't the end of the work week, right?
• Bad table manners is one of my biggest pet peeves.
• I had a total DIY moment last night when I got under our bathroom sink, unscrewed all the pipes, mucked out the standing water and treated the sink. It smelled like a swamp and with the temperature in the 90's and humidity at 160%, it felt like a swamp.
• My DVR has been recording House episodes I missed early in the season. I am in love with Hugh Laurie. He deserves his Emmy nom this year.
• Yes, my copy of FNL is pre-ordered on Amazon for $19.99.
• I'd like to go somewhere for Labor Day, anyone have any suggestions?
• Eating out one-on-one with a good friend is one of the greatest joys in life.
• I did something I've never done before this week.
• Sometimes there are cute boys on the T. I can enjoy that.
• Every morning I get to work, go to the cafeteria and buy a Diet Coke and a cinnamon-spice muffin. I'm developing a little chatty relationship with the cashier guy.
• A year ago today, I went on a blind date with a quasi-celebrity looking baby.
• If I had my choice to do ANYTHING this weekend; I'd fly home to Portland in a heartbeat.

Happy Friday all. May your weekend be merry and bright. Does anyone have a random one-liner from their week/life they'd like to contribute to this week's brain dump?

The Burning Question

I'm a sucker; I clicked on this link. Because inquiring minds want to know the answers to these burning questions... I was disappointed to find this link to MSN's Live Earth page and how Evangelical Christians weigh in on Greenery. Blah blah blah. I didn't even read the article. Instead, I compiled my own list. Feel free to add:


Cars Jesus Might Have Driven

• Chevy Capurnum
• Hummer day3
• Porsche Parable
• Dodge Nazareth
• Jeep Samaritan
• Honda Reward
• Kolobvan
• Mercedes Miracle
• Resurrection Rover
• Honda Spiritual
• Jeep Jericho
• Dodge Disciple*
• Ford Fasting

Cars Jesus Wouldn't Have Driven

• Volvo Vice
• Pontiac Pilot
• Honda Civic
• Range Roman
• Mercedes Sinz
• Dodge Goat*
• Mazda 666*
• IsuJew*
  

And surely, he drove a Hyundai on Sunday.

*updates!

The Squirrel Whisperer

She shook her clear Tupperware box, a cacophony of rattled motion within.

"Ruby!," she called, "Ruby, I'm here!"

The shaking and rattling continued.

Across the Common, time stood still as in unison, the Squirrels froze--heads whipping around to find the source of the sound.

It was apparent this wasn't their first time.

Like the Pied Piper calling his rats, the Squirrel Whisperer beckoned the Squirrels to her with the rattle of her box and they emerged from the woodwork. They frolicked across the lawn, they ran down trees, and they gathered around her in a circle. The grass was a literal wave of Squirrels. They gathered around her like long lost friends. She, overjoyed, knelt down and hand fed them nuts.

Happy though she was, the Whisperer never stayed in one place very long--just long enough to shake hands and kiss babies.

Inevitably however, she'd stand, shake her box, and start meandering in a new direction.

"Ruby!," she called, "Ruby I'm here!"

Ruby must be the Squirrel Queen.

Queen or not, this woman was clearly nuts.

Everything's Coming Up Harry - The Conclusion

If you haven't been locked in a cellar the last two weeks, you know that Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows dropped Friday night at midnight. As promised in earlier posts, we pulled out all the stops for Harry.

I met Mike (the Harry look-alike) and Carly in Harvard Square to stand in the pre-line wristband line at 3:30. We spent the next hour and a half discussing theories, reading plans, and anything else to keep us entertained. The freaks (and I say that lovingly since we were obviously part of said group) were out in full force dressed to the nines. (Please note the photo I swiped from Peggy of her with the Malfoys. Creepy huh?) The Death Eater in front of us had a snake. A real snake. Freaks.

We were in the first 30 people to get a wristband (to indicate we'd reserved our book); we hosed the 600+ people behind us in line who waited 2+ hours. We then dined at a local eatery, with a menu filled with Harry Potterized names and descriptions. We then joined the Harry and the Potters concert in Harvard Yard.

When I say concert, I really mean noise. Genius lyrics, but noise nonetheless. The best part, and when I say best part, I mean best part, was the guy who gave the introduction to HandthePs... those of us gathered were really quite stunned. If you have a minute to learn about love, and the POWER it holds... watch this clip and try to imagine our in person reactions.

Here's a photo of our Quidditch team. Fun huh?

When we knelt to take this photo, several of the groups around us started photoing us as well. I felt like I was having a paparazzi moment! (It was pretty awesome...)

The Beaters on our team (Jared & Ben) strike their toughest faces.















These three ladies take the prize for best costumes...

Carly, dressed as Luna Lovegood, beaded her own radish earrings, painted her tie, and punched holes in bottle caps to create her necklace.

Trisha, dressed as Professor Sprout, made her hat out of a cardboard box, a curtain, duct tape, and staples.

Angela, dressed as Cho, is one of the cutest girls out here in Boston. She was my Visiting Teacher for awhile and I just love her!

The three of us getting books had to leave the concert early to go brave the 1500 people waiting for books. Using stealth skill yet again, we procured ourselves a place in the first 40 people in line. (Thank Dumbledore for a well timed juice cart that parted a path for us to move past a gazillion people in line.) The pushing and shoving started about 10:00, and when the bookstore doors opened at 10:30, I was nervous. Really, nervous. We were standing heel-to-toe with everyone around us, it was hot, it was tiring, and at one point I was ready to throw my hands up and leave.

Sigh. We were close enough to the front that they about 100 people inside. We were in that group. Sat down on the ground, ate some jellybeans, wore our HP glasses, did some HP-related word finds, crossword puzzles, and assorted other games. Clock strikes 12, people are screaming and cheering, the line moves fast enough, and we've purchased are books and are out the door by 12:04.

The throng waiting outside was frenzied and feral. We exited the door and people are cheering and taking photos, and screaming and pushing... Paparazzi moment #2.

We started reading while we waited for the bus. I didn't finish until Saturday night. I won't say much because I know most of you haven't finished (or started), but I was completely satisfied with the book.

If you've finished, in broad general (non-spoiler) terms, did you like the book? Was it your favorite? If you haven't/aren't going to read it, do you have reasons? (I'll confess, I wasn't really into HP until book 3.) Are you ready for Potter mania to be done?

Everything's Coming Up Harry

TODAY is the day!

I've been at work since 7am because I'm getting off early to go start the Harry shenanigans.

Isn't this photo cute? The casting people got lucky on these 3 unknowns -- especially now that they're all super adorably lovable.

I'm meeting Carly in Harvard Square to get our party started by 3:30. We're standing in line to get free gift bags (with hopes of winning the grand prizes!) and wristbands that let us back into our line order closer to midnight. We'll go listen to Harry and the Potters, Draco and the Malfoys, and other Harry-themed bands. We even have reservations at a restaurant with a Harry-themed menu! Talk about the royal treatment....

Carly made 7 of us Gryffindor Quidditch t-shirts. I've yet to see them (other than the design); but I'm sure they'll be fantastic.

In other HP Quidditch shirt related news... I'm wearing my "Seeker" shirt today at work. Is it appropriate? Debatable. I work in publishing though... I'm supporting the industry, right? Never fear, I have a maroon zip up with unicorns on it to cover HP but still keep the magical theme...

I had the option to work some overtime tomorrow (free money!) but have turned it down so I can devote my entire day tomorrow to how it will all end...

HOW WILL IT END!?!?!?

Golddiggers

Yall know I love a good and wacky experience. It creates a platform for an entertaining story. I'll go to almost any length to report the absurd. (Surely you remember the America's Next Top Model Open call. (Part 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, and 6. ) Clearly I have no shame.

This is a flashback story. Join me.

Valentine's Day 2006--Through my connections to the zany and ridiculous, I have entered Krista, Michele, Melissa and I into the local radio station's "Valentine's Day Massacre."

In short, the Valentine's Day Massacre is a yearly event with these key ingredients: 97 women, 1 giant cake, 1 one-karat diamond ring and several other glamorous prizes inside the cake. It is the contestants' job to uncake the prizes (or in this case, slips of laminated-paper with the prize name). Sounds easy, right? In theory, yes. In actuality, not so much.

The day dawned early and bright. 5AM and Michele, true to form, is playing Jock Jams to get us pumped. We arrive, put on our issued T-shirts, and started devising our plan around the cake. We staked, claimed, and didn't leave our spot on the perimeter.

Our plan was this: on the count, the two in the front (it looks like Krista and Mel) would be pushed from behind into the center cake. The two in the back would hold the perimeter and we'd create a squared-region of cake for us, and us alone, to sift. We had each other's backs.

The plan didn't work so great. The screaming ring-hungry banshees of Salt Lake County thrust themselves into the cake on an uncivilized count of 2 and a half. All hell broke loose and it was every golddigger for themselves. Women were launching themselves from the back of the back to the center ring. Enter the hair-pulling, elbow-throwing, and biting; literally. An entire new definition of weeping, wailing, and gnashing of teeth was created that morn.

I knew I would win a prize. I'm golden that way. I had hopes for the diamond (we'd predecided that if we won it, we'd sell and take a trip together), but actually really wanted to win the trip to LA for lunch with Ashlee Simpson (chalk up another story to the ridiculous-meter). Dig dig dig. I found the laminated slip with the "$400 Hair Removal Certificate" prize. Following the other pre-arranged plan, I slipped the prize in my wristband and kept digging.

The cake had been frozen the night before and was mostly thawed as we wormed our way through it. When I say mostly thawed, I'm hoping you're imaging it as I'm remember it--cold sludge. As 97 women trampled, squeezed, and sifted through what appeared to be a bran cake, the cake took on a consistency the likes I don't think this planet has ever seen. It was disgusting. And hairy in parts.

We made local and national news across the country. Here's the ABC spot. (You'll see us four girls bouncing, getting revved up for the great dive and cameos throughout the interviews and digging.) Michele's parents called to say they saw her on the news in Washington. (I've also heard of us being seen as far away as Tennessee.) Apparently we helped further the stereotype that Utah women will go to any length to obtain a wedding ring. I'll beg to differ, but will readily admit that I will go almost any length for a good story.

Oh, and the $400 Hair Removal certificate? I threw it away when I moved. It's not about the win, it's about the hunt.

TGIF Night Lights

Why? Why? WHY are you still not watching Friday Night Lights? Really people. I have begged. I have pleaded. I have appealed to your baser sense and promised you the hottest cast on television. Yet you still hold back.

Just look at all the positive reviews the nation's harshest critics have given the show. Think about how many times I, your beloved friend, sister, cousin, and stranger, have referenced the show, or implored you to watch.

The characters on this show are real and lovable. Invite them into your home, you won't be sorry! And, to boot! you can watch all of last season's episodes online. Start with the pilot. At least give me 42 minutes worth of devotion. If you aren't hooked by then, fine. At least you gave it a shot.

For those of you who are watchers, a list of spoilers for Season II have been posted to one of my everyday reads. If you want to be surprised, skip this list.

1. One of the show's big couples calls it quits.
2. Someone dies.
3. Someone commits murder.
4. The Panthers have a new coach.
5. Someone finds Jesus.
6. Matt's grandma gets a live-in nurse. (She's rumored to be in her 20's!!!)
7. Remember the name Gracie.
8. Tami makes a new friend.
9. There's a gratuitous locker-room shower scene within the first two episodes.
10. It ain't over between Tim and Lyla.

The Emmy nominations are announced tomorrow. I don't want to get my hopes up for any nods; it's rare that critically acclaimed, but vastly underrated freshman shows get credit when it's due, but I'll hold my breath for Kyle Chandler, Connie Britton, and Zach Gilford, who most definitely deserve nominations--and the whole show for Dramatic series. Expect jubilation and glee tomorrow if any are announced.

And if you love me, please please please watch this show so our relationship can have another point of connection.

If you haven't been watching, please feel free to explain your petty excuses to me in the comments. For those who do watch (Kendall, Mallory, Mom, Michele, Mel, Juan) please feel free to add your persuasive comments.

Go Panthers!

You Can't Stop the Beat

Tonight, Kylee and I are seeing a sneak peek showing of the new Hairspray movie. I am literally dying in anticipation.

First off, I love musicals--yall should know this by now. I especially love Hairspray because it brings to mind so many memories of the last year.

The song "You Can't Stop the Beat" immediately brings to mind my Salt Lake girls and my obsession with the show So You Think You Can Dance? Benji and Donyelle danced a Broadway routine that we taped and watched over and over again. And then over.

On the heels of Benji's Season II win, and the "M"'s moving to New York City; we decided to see Hairspray when we visited the city. We bought our tickets, stood in the pouring rain to get in; but not even wet socks and pants could destroy the joy we felt at this fast paced, loud, colorful, soulful musical.

I can't decide who I'm more excited to see in the movie! So many stars! John Travolta, Michelle Phiffer, Queen Latifa, Brittany Snow, Zac Efron, Amanda Bynes, James Maden...

Wow. I'm excited.

Walk it Out

I sat facing the street, my lunch laid before me growing cold. I'd chosen my seat to avoid the eyes of the other diners. I had my audiobook to listen to, and I didn't want to be distracted my other diners thinking I was staring at them.

A non-distracting lunch was not in the cards however.

Unknowingly, I had positioned myself on one of the busiest streets in the Back Bay. The parade of people and vehicles was astonishing--I literally felt like I'd stepped into a Sesame Street sketch. The pace was so dizzying that I had to close my eyes every once in awhile to combat the motion sickness.

In the brief 20 minutes I sat dining (people-watching, putting food into my mouth without tasting), I saw every kind, type, color, occupation, vocation, gender, disability, and transportation method imaginable.

Now, in no particular order (either organized or layout-wise as Blogger is a PAIN to upload photos in rational, clean way) I share with you some of my viewings--comments or soundtrack may be included. See if you can match the description to the photo... call it a game! (It's okay if you don't get some of the lyrical allusions.)

"Now Walk it Out, walk it out, now walk it out, walk it out..."

This guy was seen struttin' his blue collar stuff to the tunes of Macho Man...

The T conductor is tired of working on the railroad--all the live long day.

Even Colonel Sanders crossed my window! He walked right up to my window, did a quick round of the chicken dance and then walked with purpose the other way.

This one goes out to all the baby's mamas, and mamas' mamas. I am for real.

Stroller patrol, stroller patrol.

The Back Bay would NOT be complete without a photo of some Euro boys in sport jerseys and too-short shorts. Handsome man with athletic thighs...

This guy isn't really special, but he stood in front of me for a few minutes all by himself. I was kind of nervous he was spying on me... but who am I to talk?

Boston is famous for their "Duck Tours." These vehicles can traverse both land and water. I'm very interested to go one one. Any takers?

Photos I didn't take (but I did see!) because I was too slow on the uptake...

+Homeless guy in a wheelchair +policeman +13-year-old gaggle of girls +the skateboard gang +the trashman +woman with a cane +firetruck +family in tribal African clothing +more and more and more!

The BEST part of the whole lunch was when they all formed a giant conga line in front of my window and did the bunny hop. Sadly, my phone's battery had died by then.

A Harry Weekend

Thursday night: "Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix" movie

Friday night: "Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince" book - 1st half

Saturday night: "Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince" book - 2nd half

I'm caught up to date. Friday night can't come soon enough as I am finally caught up and swept away in Harry-mania. My book is pre-ordered, my plans for the release party in Harvard Square are made, and my stomach is in knots.

This article about Harry in the workplace cracked me up a little--employees, taking vacation time for reading? I love it so much.

This summer is turning out to be the Harriest ever--and I'm lovingly obsessed with every second of it.

**UPDATE: I was passed the super-secret pathway to view online snapshots of the first 450 pages... (names shall be withheld to protect the innocent from copyright cops). I won't read it, but knowing I could gives me a strange sense of power...

Mirror Mirror

For some strange reason, I delight in finding physical similarities in other people. The game isn't exclusively to famous people--but rather any and every one that has a trace of similarity. (This keeps me entertained in my people watching.) An individual can be a combination of several people or a near double. Several of my girlfriends and I are quite good at this game. I was happy to find a link that provided the following Summer celebrity matchups--check these out! If they're not twins than at least sibilings... holy cow!

Megan Fox (Transformers) v. Angelina Jolie (of Brangelina)

Josh Duhmal (Transformers) v. Johnny Knoxville (of the Jackass)

Alicia Keys (Nanny Diaries) v. Jessica Alba (Fantastic Four)Jesse Spencer (House) v. John Krasinski (The Office & License to Wed)

And now I submit my own personal findings from this summer:

Daniel Radcliffe (Harry Potter) v. Elijah Wood

Jaslene (America's Next Top Model) v. Jimmy (So You Think You Can Dance?)

Are there any Summer 2007 comparisons I have blatantly missed? Happy Saturday everyone. I'm at work.

Two Lions & a Nine

No one is blogging today. I had to resort to reading strangers' blogs. For the record, this is not nearly as entertaining as reading your own flesh and blood people's. I decided to write, this giant blog of nothingness, when I remembered that hit phrase "If you're not part of the solution, you're part of the problem." Enjoy people. It's Friday.

Not important enough to warrant its own blog:

• I'm listening to the 4th book of the Summer of the Traveling Pants on my iPod during my commute. I'm only allowed to listen to it if I'm walking, on the bus, on the T, or waiting. Interestingly enough, I don't mind the commute nearly so much (these books also make me happy). Listening to audio books is a very strange thing however--I'm inherently a very fast reader mainly concerned with plot and little for detail. Being forced to listen, at a slower pace than most people speak was a habit I had to learn my first few chapters. I assume I look gravely concerned on the bus and the T; my brow furrowed and my eyes staring but unseeing out the window.
• My new building in the Back Bay is fairly secure. You need your ID badge to get up the elevator, onto your floor once you take the elevator--and even in the stairs there are swipe zones. Being tall has its advantage however, and the swipe pads are right at hip level--where my ID badge is ever so nicely clipped. I don't have to worry about clipping, unclipping, clipping, unclipping; I'm the girl who gets to hip bump the wall.
• My new cube is exactly (hold on, I'm going to count) (okay I'm back) eleven steps from the bathroom. (Yes, I really did just go count, and yes, I'm sure I looked rather silly.)
• The employee cafeteria sells 20 ounce sodas for $1.25 and the vending machine sells 12 ounce cans for $.75. Being that I now work in college math textbooks, I decided to figure out which purchase was giving me more bang for my buck. I got out my pencil, formulated my equations and believe it or not the price per ounce is exactly the same. Boo! I was trying to take my 6th grade math and apply it to daily living. I wanted some kind of productive result dang it!
• I haven't done much at work this week (can you tell by the sheer volume of posts?). Believe it or not, I'm coming in tomorrow (Saturday) to work a half day. Hello overtime I don't deserve but will gladly take.
• Check out this hilarious blog Kendall sent me about some guy and his conversations with his crazy roommate. It's best if you start at the beginning.
• Saw HP5 last night with a slew of people. It. Was. Awe-some! For those of us who have a stake in Harry's pure existence (the purists who don't just see the movies but read the books as well), the ending was wrenching on so many levels. I will hit the Target on the way home and purchase HP6 (the book) to read before next Friday when HP7 (the book) comes out. WILL HARRY LIVE OR DIE!? Yikes. I can hardly wait.
• A year ago this weekend Mel, Nici and I went to Vegas with Joe, Jason and Jamar to stay at Nate's house. It was probably my favorite trip of the summer.
• All of H&M's sale stuff is buy one get one free. I purchased three dresses, three skirts, a shirt, two hats, and a purse for $48. I can get on board with that idea. Especially considering how muggy it's been here lately...
• I visited Rachel at her salon on my lunchbreak today. It's FUN being close to friends. We walked to Wendy's, purchased food for her coworkers, and then I walked her back. I dined at Burger King and listened to my book.
• Kendall also passed me this link about submitting a YouTube video resume to be P. Diddy's assistant. Votes on if I should give it a try for a few kicks and giggles?
• How do I write so much about nothing? It just comes out. Wow. And the funny thing is that I could keep going and going and going... I'm sure this has a lot to say about me, and this thought just hit me--I don't feel like I talk very much here in Boston. I mean I jib-jab and discuss circumstantial hoo-haw with people, but I don't verbally brain dump very often. I'm thinking I write the inconsequential matters down because they bounce around until I expel them. Thanks for supporting my expulsion method.

Good job Nat! You got... two lions and a nine.

Confession #21

With regularity, I read snarky commentaries for most of the shows I watch. They come from a variety of hosted sites, but most regularly Entertainment Weekly's TV Watch, TV Guide, and Television Without Pity.

Today, I threw my two cents into the commenting on last night's episodic commentary of "So You Think You Can Dance?"

I was the 3rd person to comment, and I'll confess, pretty proud of myself for being "published" on EW.com. (As working for Entertainment Weekly is my secret dream job)

Then, I got a shout out!

Short story long, here's my confession -- I got really really excited about this. Man I love the world wide web.

A Winner!

Ding Ding Ding! We have a winner!!!

The polls have officially closed as Stephanie is the winner of this oh so very fun game from my previous post. Thanks to all those who played, your guesses were entertainingly fun, albeit incorrect. (Yes I have to color my eyebrows to match my hair, Yes I wear yellow, Yes I wear earrings, Yes I wear green eye shadow, Yes I smiled "normally", Yes I dig my stumpy arm as well...)

The correct answer to "what's different about Nat in this photo?" is that Yes, my hair was parted on the other side. I just realized how lame this is all sounding. Could I really be THIS bored? Thinking... thinking.... YES.

As a baby spot of proof before I get to payment, below is a screenshot of my profile pictures on Facebook. Note that all photos circled in red have my bangs/hair swooped to the right. Photo circled in yellow is to the left. She's tricky...

I know I shouldn't have a post (or two) dedicated solely to my hair part, but it's too late now. (Yes, I feel the shame and pity you're feeling for me.) Nevertheless, now you all can see me as I've been seeing my part in the mirror for the past 20 years.

I promised $5 cash money and a poem to the winner. I've been trying to mail out Steph's birthday present for two months now (good thing it's not til September so I've got some time)--I'll include your five big ones in there too, mkay? And without further adieu, a really crappy poem:

S is the simple way you make me laugh (don't worry; it's not going to be one of those poems, just the start)
T is the time you showed me your favorite dance moves from the creepy Lil Superstar video
E is the empathy you gave when I blew up the D-Mark bathroom
P is the pretty, pretty boyfriend Neil on our most favorite dance show
H is the habit we've formed of loving/not loving the same things. Food, Entertainment, People.
A is the ample time we've spent on the phone discussing love, life, and the American Dream
N is the necessary daily discussion before and after our shows
I is the idiocy I feel that I can't think of anything that starts with I
E is the end of this poem; why couldn't you have had a shorter name like "Ed"?

Once in a Lifetime

Back in November, this blog became an interactive venue. To ward off a boring afternoon or two, the readers of my blog (that's you, commenters and cyber-lurkers alike) were asked to guess the color of the Starburst I was eating. How entertaining was this? Apparently, enough to warrant two--count them, one, two--days worth.

I shant stoop to you guessing my Starburst color again. (Though this served a dual purpose in proving who really knows the miniscule details of my rather boring existance.) Instead, I will create another opprotunity for you, the readers of my blog (that's you, commenters and cyber-lurkers alike) to take a gander at the photo below:

All looks surprisingly normal**, no? This is Kylee and I at dinner last Saturday night for our roommate Marianne's birthday. (Yes, we're at Joe's. What what!)

Review this photo. Contained within its pixilated details is something I can't remember having done, photoed, or attempted in at least the last five years. To lighten this Wednesday afternoon, I will literally mail 5 dollars cash money and a poem to the commenter to point out the detail.

Two clues:

1. It's not that I'm wearing my glasses (though this could almost be the case -- as I wear my glasses once, every other year).
2. It's not that I have a seemingly stumpy arm.

I can't give many more details beyond that. I have no idea if someone will get it. I have no idea if anyone will guess. All I know is it's a boring afternoon, and like I ask myself almost every time I'm about to publish a post, "Why the heck not?"

Ready. Set. Go.

**For those of you have been asking to see the downward turning smile##, there you go. I told you, it's not a frown; but how else do you describe it? It's obviously sloping down!

## It is impossible for me to create this smile on the spot. This is why I stopped smiling and started open mouthing.

Fight or Flight

And now, I will tell you my most embarrassing story of all time. Because it's a Tuesday and you're probably bored. I am also a full six months past said embarrassing moment, and I think it's high time to admit to what was done.

To my friends at the D-Mark, this is for you. You (save Steph) haven't heard about it, because it was the nearly the MOST TALKED ABOUT STORY OF 2006 and I needed to be far from the state before yall found out.

Some of you (totally and completely unassociated with the D-Mark) have already heard this story, so I apologize in advance. Nonetheless, admitting you have an embarrassing story is the first step in releasing it, right?

So, the women's restroom at my old place of employment wasn't really what you imagine standard place of employment facilities to be. Instead of a room with several stalls and sinks, the women's room was actually a woman's room with a door that opened right onto our entire department. Awkward. Sometimes, women would get walked in on if they forgot to lock the door. (Paranoid to death, I would triple check the lock most times. No sound was more fearful than to be going about your business and hearing the door knob rattle.) Please, review the figure below.

The best/worst part was, that I sat on Bathroom Row. (Bad because the line would often queue up and the women would get chatty. "Working With Women," Page 1. Good because I drink a lot. Always. "Our Bodies: Go With the Flow", page 1.)

Back to the story. So the one toilet in our little cube of a restroom had been acting up as of late. Tired from overuse, it seemed to give up the ghost. It clogged, it ran constantly, it ran out of toilet paper. The women in our office, being a competent lot, were familiar with using a plunger, and were all well schooled in how to plunge. It was the unspoken rule. You clog it? You clean it. No big deal.

Until, dun dun dun. One day. The day that lives in infamy in the D-Mark's Interactive Department. I'm getting warm just thinking about it. (Ironically, I also get really really, "I'm having a hot flash" warm when I really, really have to go... but that's probably TMI and should live in the "Stories When I've Really Had to Go" series I'll be starting shortly. I really should drink less. Sigh. Why is diet soda so good? But again, I digress.)

I do my thing. I flush. The water slowly starts to spin. The suction from underneath (is there some kind of technical terminology about this? Are there any plumbers among my cyber-sleuths?) drains what was in the bowl, washes, rinses, and spins the TP and then stops. Sigh. The bowl looks clean. But I know the rule. "Thou Shalt Not Leave Any Mystery Objects in the Toilet for Thy Co-Workers."

I pick up the plunger. I flush, and plunge. The water rises slowly. I freeze. OhNoOhNoOhNo, I'm thinking in my head. Don't overflow.

It doesn't.

But again, I can't just leave it like that. So I flush, and plunge. AND THE WATER STARTS RISING. OhCrapOhCrapOhCrap, don't DO THIS TO ME, I'm mentally screaming. I rip the plunger out of the bowl, realizing that it's displacing water from the space the bowl so desperately needs. IT. DOES. NOT. MATTER.

I'm hoping that the water will slither its way to the drain in the middle of the floor. That's what the drain is designed for right? Right!? Wrong. Wrong bloody wrong.

The water, perfectly clean, I promise you, begins gushing out the top of the bowl and onto the ground.

In an act, absolutely defying the laws of water and motion (surely those exist, right?), the water does not travel down the slight gradient towards the drain, but rather is drawn by sheer force of all that is evil and unholy towards the door.

Towards the door. The door that opens up on to everyone in my department. That is passed on the way to the kitchen. In a high traffic area. Freak. Freak. Freak.

I gather my courage to vacate the bathroom. Over and over in my head I prayed that no one would be outside waiting to use the one toilet assigned to 35 women. What were my odds?

Heart beating, palms sweaty, and breathing jagged--I opened the door quickly. No one waiting. Relief. I squeeze my body out the 10 inch space I open the door, and make a beeline for my cubicle.

In the game of flight or fight, I took the road more/less traveled and fled like a bat out of hell.

However, not wanting to completely abdicate myself of any wrong doing, I decided to leave a Post-It note on the door. Nevermind that the water is seeping out from under the door and onto the carpet, I decide it's only fair. (Why?! Why did I do this? I'd already fled, I should not have returned to the scene of the crime.) This is literally what I wrote on the door:

I even tried to change my handwriting. And then I hid the pad of Post-Its I had used. I didn't want anyone to link me to the crime. I AM NOT A CRIMINAL.

The water continued its seepage onto the common space carpet. Clean. Clean. Clean water. I swear on all that is holy, the water was clean.

I sat at my cube, close enough to hear what everyone was saying. Because there was no one on which to pin the atrocious doing, the verbal assaults and judgments were flying freely. It was a big mystery no one could solve but everyone wanted to play and or had something to say. I, of course, had to join the "who done it" game else I look like the guilty party. AhhhhH! (Dante has a special place in the nth ring for hypocrites. Yie!)

Several blogs were written by D-Markers about the bathroom "problem" that escalated to a catastrophe that fateful, fateful day. (I tried in vain to find them, but I promise, they exist.) Pure mayhem lived in that department for a good 25 minutes--the department was up in arms and ready to loot and plunder. After some time (minutes, days, weeks, it all felt the same), I returned to my cube, sat down, stared at my computer screen and stroked a hidden stack of Post-It notes in my purse.