The Monkeehaus

2011-05-02T20:44:00.002-04:00

"I find hope in the darkest of days, and focus in the brightest. I do not judge the universe."

-Dalai Lama

I can't help but be a little philosophical these days. Well, to be honest, for the past few months.

Since I've been deployed to New York, I've come almost face to face; nose to nose with my past, my present, and my future; who I was and who I am and who I hope to be. Bear with me.

I find that I have these persnickety and persistent thoughts - all revolving around when I first moved to NYC almost 10 years ago, and the events that followed. It's like I can't shake it, I can't help but run into it - and after last night's events, I am compelled to finally try to find the proper perspective and reflection. Because it almost feels to me like it did in the days and months following September 11th.

I've been more involved with the organization where I was a Fellow in 2001. I have been living in the building just south of the WTC site. I pass my friend's old and still empty apartment two blocks south of the site where I used to spend a lot of time in the years leading up to that fateful day in September. It was the Tribeca Film Fest this past week - and I took full advantage of it, seeing a movie every night, realizing the origins of the festival itself every time. I participated in Coro Fellow Selection Day, peering over the East River at the skyline I grew to love and feel was as important to me as my own skin. Every day, I look up, with fascination, at the Freedom Tower, getting taller and taller each week.

And I have been living in my past for the last two months, almost as if watching it through a looking-glass, the perspective of almost a decade crashing on top of me as I've been forced to reflect on who I was and who I've become. And inevitably, who I want to be.

I will admit I can never complain about my assignment. I think I have the best in the world, spending time in the best city in the world. And I've thoroughly enjoyed living here full-time again, feeling like I just put on my favorite old coat for two months. You know, that really warm and comfortable feeling when you just feel like all is well and life is good, despite how hectic the last two months have been. I've retreated back to my New York shell, walking briskly up and down the streets, muttering under my breath to the tourists, reveling in taking the train or riding my bike to work every day.

But this time, more than any other time, I have been more and more keenly aware of September 11th and it's reverberations in my life. I can't explain it any better than I have before, other than perhaps being right here, so close I can smell and hear the workers on the site, that may be creeping into my subconscious. I was just a few blocks south of here last year for a few months and I didn't have that kind of feeling now. Perhaps the spirits are interjecting.

I'm not sure I can explain this. Other than I could be going through that phase where in my 30's, I feel like I'm looking back at my life and it's trajectory and where I am and how I got here and if it's where I want to be. But it's odd and ironic that I find myself here once again and face to face with something I'd consider to be one of the most influential in my life, that changed and scarred me and it's just everywhere I turn.

So put this frame of mind around what I'm about to explore next. Because this is already what I was grappling with when I heard the news that Osama Bin Laden was dead. After having the most perfect, quintessential, New York Sunday.

It was definitely a strange feeling. Lightheaded, elated, almost like the floor was yanked out. Surreal. And as the news started to sink in, I realized where I was sitting. And it seemed right to crack open a beer. And then it seemed the emotions just started flowing and I started to tear up. It became clear to me that I needed to go around the corner and be at Ground Zero as soon as I heard what the president had to say.

I literally was waiting for him to finish so I could go. I was out the door as soon as he was done. I even grabbed the wrong keys as I left, realizing it halfway through the elevator down and after calling the super and grabbing the keys, I was on my way.

Hopping up Albany street, I turned to head up Trinity and as I turned left, I saw three firemen, standing silently in a doorway, turned towards Ground Zero. A small group of people had gathered at the corner beyond them - I could just make out their silhouettes against the lights of the site. I jogged over to Church and just turned left. Some cars had started to honk. An ambulance turned on the lights and drove by with the windows down and EMT's were fist pumping into the night. A solitary man stood wearing a hoodie (it had gotten pretty cold) and holding a candle in front of Century 21. As I got closer to the Millennium Hilton, I could see a crowd begin to form. Meeting Jess outside, we hugged and held on for a bit. We just knew we couldn't figure out what we were feeling. And we headed toward the small group that had assembled.

People had started to chant, "USA, USA." In general, they were just excited, but it started out small and almost quiet. Before we knew it, people were just coming from everywhere. TV crews started to assemble. After collecting Steve, we found a place to stand and just observe what was happening. The crowd was getting bigger. And louder. And the "USA" chants kept going. The American anthem started to be sung and flags started to fly. It was almost as if you blinked and suddenly you were surrounded by hundreds of people, the crowd swelling together, people pushing to get to the "front", though no one really knew what the "front" was.

It started out peaceful enough, but then the crowd started getting rowdy. Somehow, there was a successful moment of silence before things started to get a little more surreal. Someone started and everyone joined in loudly as the crowd started to sing, "Na, na, na, na - na, na, na, na - hey, hey hey, goodbye."

And suddenly, I wasn't feeling very celebratory anymore. I was actually pretty upset.

It occurred to me in that moment that we were celebrating death. We were celebrating the perpetuation of the cycle of violence. I was so conflicted about being happy we finally accomplished the mission we had set out for but here we were, at Ground Zero, singing, "Hey, hey, hey, goodbye"? That just seemed wrong. Out of place. Disrespectful. Not to Bin Laden. To Ground Zero. That seemed intolerable to me. Sure, celebrations were needed and necessary - almost cathartic, but so did reflection and respect. Especially in that space and in the shadows of where the towers once stood. I felt almost sick when I started to think about it again. But yet, there I stood, waiting to see what would happen next.

I suddenly was transported to nine years ago, having a conversation with my roommate and fellow Fellow, Vivian, upon the announcement that we would go to war with Afghanistan. I remember saying to her that I was upset we were going to war. That I understood it, that I was glad we were going with NATO and a world force, but that "war was not the answer, it should have been the last resort."

Vivian just looked at me and said, "Well, what else should we do? They came after us, isn't this what happens next? What do you think should happen now?"

And I had nothing. I know I hated GWB, but that had nothing to do with this. I could only blankly say, "I'm just waiting for the day that we stop reacting to violence with violence. I'm not sure what else to do and I pray they know all the details we will never know and they will be smart about this, but what just happened here, this kind of destruction and death - war will be more of that. And when will it ever just stop?"

I think of what she said then and it suddenly echoed in my ears. What else should we do now? And then the "F*ck Bin Laden" chant started and I just went blank. Steve turned to Jess and I and just said helplessly, "And there it is. They're coming after us." And I suddenly was very, very disappointed. A few minutes later, two guys climbed a streetlight, which, under normal circumstances, would have had the police scrambling to get them down. And I felt jubilant again because they weren't making any moves towards the people crawling up there at all as one of them had an American flag and started waving it. One was handed a sign that said, "Obama 1, Osama 0" and the crowd went wild. I even screamed for it.

Later, when I left, taking a very roundabout way back home, I came across a Fire Chief, lighting a candle under a picture of the fallen Firemen from the firehouse he was standing in front of, speaking quietly to a young man who was asking about the experience. Along the wall, there was a brass fresco commemorating the fallen and that day. Busboys were getting off of work and bringing flowers to lay under the memorial. The firemen who had been standing there just hours before when I first passed were gone. And I could feel the emptiness starting to take over again.

Just like that, all night. Back and forth between excited. Upset. Celebratory. Disappointed. Confused. Conflicted. Empty. And swelling with emotion. All at once. I felt like I either wanted to scream or cry or just sit in silence. I couldn't figure out which. But I also couldn't tear myself away from the scene or our place on the street, that as long as I was there, I was doing the right thing, being a part of this.

And it hit me that I was looking for reflection. To pay my respects to the dead. To honor those serving our country. And dear God, for some piece - any piece - of closure I could possibly get. Going home would feel like a capitulation, I was a part of this moment and fate had brought me here, the same way it had brought me to Metrotech Brooklyn so I was there at 8:30 am, just before the first alarms started to go off. Something felt right about begin there, no matter what was going through my head. And my soul. Because all I know is an ache started in my chest that hasn't gone away yet.

It hit me today that I've had this feeling before. And it was 10 years ago, in the days and aftermath of 9/11 that started the week after it happened and Matt and I stood at Ground Zero, looking at the mangled wreckage and the firemen and rescue operation. That strange ache that would start in my chest and move to my throat and back and forth. It was back. And yeah, it was different reasons then than now, but here I was, still conflicted, still wanting peace and respect, but so proud of how we responded, proud of community, proud of our country.

This is the hurt that has yet to heal. I didn't even really know anyone all that well who died that day. I just know the effect it had on the people around me, the people close to me, the city I lived in, the country I love and I am finding, 10 years later, that I'm still trying to figure out the full effect it had on me.

Some of it was good. Really good. The fire that it lit to commit myself to the recovery of this city, the feeling of community, of resiliency, of the human spirit. The devotion to the work I have committed myself to. And yet, the wounds still hurt, they are still deep, and still raw.

We all have our stories of that day. We all have stories of last night. We all have different feelings, different hurts, different perspectives about everything related to it. All are valid. All are real.

Yet, I still think, "What happens next?" And like the night of 9/11, all I can do is pray. And wait and see. And find a way to live with the ache that has returned with a vengeance.

- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad

2011-01-03T20:42:00.000-05:00

A BRAND-SPANKIN' NEW YEAR...

Okay. Color me sentimental. Here I sit, waiting patiently for my new iPad to restore to it's factory settings after a misguided attempt to jailbreak it. So I am thinking that it's already January. Didn't this past year just fly by?

I'd argue I've had an interesting year. By many different milestones. I can't even begin to fathom where to begin or really that I want to get too far into it. But let's see...

I finally joined Team in Training, a goal I set for myself four years ago when my dad passed away from a pre-leukemia disease. Instead of making excuses as to why the timing didn't work, I just made it happen. Since then, I have done two centuries and a metric century ride (63 miles) and ridden over a thousand training miles to do it. Kick ass. That may be one of the highlights of the year.

Many friends were married this year. That was a ton of fun and wonderful to be a part of so many happy days.

I got to go to Ireland! Finally! I don't care if it was cold as a witch's teet. I went, dammit.

My house continues to stand. That's pretty darn important.

Those are good highlights.

The ones that broke even - well...

Work. Saved some jobs, lost some jobs. Won some elections, lost some elections. At the end of the day, we fought and fought hard and this year will be harder.

Yeah, I'm still single. But I've learned a TON this year. I've been adored, lied to, wooed and confused. More than anything, I can honestly say that I'm not going to settle. That seems to have been my problem a few times this year. I've made some friends - some really good ones, in fact - and I've lost a few. But this is life and the universe has interesting lessons to learn. If you care to listen.

Despite going on some fantastic vacations, I feel ridiculously tired. I know it's a mix of work, stress, keeping myself busy on the wheel so I don't fall off - whether it's work, going to the gym, keeping up with training, etc, but honestly - is this the price I pay every year I get older? Because this is some bullshit. Mama needs a week off to do NOTHING. I mean, nothing. This may be an intention in the New Year.

See, I stay away from resolutions. I like what my friend Vivian coined as "intentions". It has a better ring.

For instance: I intend to get and stay fit in the new year. I intend to think positively and spread good will into the universe and not get bogged down by negative emotions, situations - and people. I intend to fight with all my will for the working families I represent. I intend to remember that every day is a chance to do something good, a chance to simply live and enjoy. I intend to get into bikram yoga again and possibly try my hand at some martial arts. I intend to ride Tahoe. Again. I intend to be more free, to be more true to myself. I intend to write music again. I intend to paint instead of sit in front of the TV. I intend to spend more time with my friends and my family and the people that love me, not chase after people who aren't worth my energy and disrespect me. I am intending to live a very full and positive year. Come to think of it, that's been my intention for a long long time. And despite a few, um... setbacks here are there, I think I've succeeded at that goal, anyway.

Intentions are not wicked. Don't be tricked into thinking so. But not following through on an intention or bobbling one slightly has a much better and more positive feel than failing at a resolution. It's not that I don't have the resolve to do these things. It's that sometimes, situations make it hard to follow through all the way. But my intention remains. This is why I love the term.

But in the meantime, I'm just surprised at how quickly this year seems to have gone. It seems that way since I turned 30. I know, I know. It's a tad ridiculous, but while I've had an epic year, I also am just amazed we're into another one. Here's to seeing whether my intentions stick. In the meantime, happy new year to all! Let's make it a good one!

A very quick week...

2010-11-28T20:47:00.001-05:00

This always happens. The beginning of our vacation here is slow. We usually take our time getting adjusted. Then we make plans and the last days are suddenly upon us and the rest of the vacation is a blur.

We returned from Ilocos Sur late Tuesday night. The next day, we had plans to go to a resort in Pansol, Laguna. I know. Tough me. What was even better is that it used mineral springs from the mountains so no chlorine, which I am allergic to. Sweet.

Thursday we had lunch plans and we ended up using Thursday and Friday to wrap up loose ends, finish up some shopping, get a hair cut, go to the cemetery one last time before leaving, etc. I spent the last two nights cooking for the family, showing them how to make some non-Filipino food - and having a blast while doing it.

It has been a long couple of days, with little sleep in between and still recovering from this little sinus cold I have. I have to say that this trip, which I wasn't actually looking forward to the travel part (I was pretty exhausted and has been home a total of two days before crossing over several time zones), has been nothing short of spectacular as far as vacations go and for spending some time with family, which always has a tendency to ground me.

I find myself sitting in the airport in Manila after five checkpoints and arguing with the guard to let me bring some Philippine wine home and feeling somewhat blue at having to go back. And exhausted because we haven't slept and arrived at the airport at 2:30 for a 6:30 flight. With all this damn security, I now remember why (two hours later).

Several folks have commented on going back to see and experience your roots and it is a phenomenally rewarding experience. This time, I heard stories from my grandmother I had never heard about the Japanese occupation during WWII and what it was like. I'm planning on helping my family put together a documentary for the town about the experience. I experienced a lot of religion here, but that's par for the course. For the first time in five years and four trips, I can say having to come here for a visit and not a funeral has been freeing for once. And has made it much more enjoyable.

And thankful and humble again. To remember where we came from, how thankful I must be for the life I've been given and have had the opportunity to live and my family that continues to grow in love and support. So even though I missed thanksgiving back home, I assure you, I sure felt it here.

Back home. And while I won't be blogging with such intensity, I will keep going because god knows I ain't getting another break anytime soon!

Mabuhay!

- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad

Location:Metro Manila, Philippines

I'm an adult...

2010-11-26T07:24:00.001-05:00

In the eyes of the Catholic church, anyway.

Amazing considering my history in the church - of blasphemy at three. In my defense, I thought that Jesus sat behind the altar and was psyched because people came to his heezy every weekend. Literally. So me calling out the third time they rang the bell during the consecration, "Jesus Christ, pick up the phone!" was quite literal. His house, answer the phone. Simple. All it cost us was not going to that church anymore. Again, terrible threes, not twos.

I was confirmed in the maternal hometown of my mother, like the generation before me. My grandmother stood behind me as my witness. It was actually pretty picturesque. In theory, really.

Because as I've said before, Filipinos are really SUPER Catholic. And me growing to the ripe age of 31 without a confirmation was a bit of an anomaly. An anomaly that needed to be fixed if I was to properly be a Godmother to my cousin who is going to be confirmed. My mom and I had talked about getting confirmed in the Philippines for years, but never had much of an impetus to do it. Until now. So talks began before I arrived here two weeks ago.

Eventually, the talks yielded fruit and the parish priest that presided over my aunts funeral just three years ago got special dispensation from the
bishop, who was conveniently in Rome. Anyway, the day before my impending confirmation, I realized something may actually required of me and I didn't (don't) speak Ilocano. I questioned my grandmother.

She looked at me sideways. "Do you know the Lord's Prayer?"

I scoffed. "Yes."

"Well what about the Hail Mary?"

Incredulous look. "Of course, Mamang, I went to Catholic school for seven years, I know all those prayers!"

"What about the Apostles' Creed?"

"Yes, of course I...um." I blinked. "How does that one go again?"

She looked at me like a wayward child. "We believe in God, the..."

"Father almighty," I chimed in, "Maker of heaven and earth, of all that is seen..."

"NO! That's not it! I believe in the Holy Spirit, of Jesus Christ..."

I stopped her. "Huh? That's not the one I know."

This quickly lead to a frantic search for a prayer book in the house. She pointed out the Creed to me. "Wait," I realized. "I know the Nicene Creed, the longer version of this." Which lead to a longer conversation about the difference and then the actual trying to write down the Creed from memory.

"This is so much easier to recite in church," I groaned.

"Because you hear the next word and know where it goes. The problem is putting it in order," my mother tried to helpfully intone.

I looked at my grandmother. "I can't recite the shorter Apostles' Creed without getting it messed up with the Nicene and I can't remember the exact order. But I know the story really, really well. Can't I just relate the story roughly and let the priest slap me a few times on the cheek and be done with it?"

"Ay apo!" (Ilocano for "Oh my God!")

I quickly walked out of the room.

My uncle had joked that getting confirmed was as simple as standing in church, have the priest slap me once and I'd be done. Apparently, it wasn't going to be that easy.

An hour later, my grandmother came to me and said, "I told Father that in America, they recite the Nicene Creed and he agreed that would be fine. He said they are going to start using it next year so you're going t introduce the Nicene Creed to San Juan."

"Oh?" Neat.

She walked away with a smile on her face. Yikes.

What didn't really help me was that I had also managed to get sick. I was taking NyQuil PM and Advil to break the fever. Regardless, I found myself awake at 5 am and walking to church 40 minutes later in the darkness with my mother and grandmother, amidst the sounds of roosters starting to wake. It was still cool enough, thank God. We got to the church as daylight was starting to break. We were directed to a small chapel off the large church. I was struck by it's simplicity, rather, it's rustic look. Exposed brick from what must have been the original church wall surrounded me, a roof extended beyond the dilapidated stone walls, held by iron rods. A beautiful cross hung in the front, made completely of withered wood that gave the impression of beauty rather than sorrow. Birds flew in and around, singing while they flew overhead. Paintings lined the walls. A simple marble-topped altar stood in the middle of the room while a neighborhood dog wandered between the aisles. I looked down. Apparently, they decided to save money on the kneelers. Simple pieces of 1x5 served as the place to kneel. Yup. It hurt like hell.

As we sat, waiting, my fever started to break. I was feeling quite cool but started to sweat. A lot. Oh boy. And of course, that was the moment Father Manolo came over to me and said, "are you ready for your confession?" I swear I was sweating beforehand. Anyway, he takes me into a small room off the back that was still just getting the first taste of daylight. I turned the corner into the room and was shocked.

Before me, on a table, lay a dead Jesus wrapped in cloth and in a box of glass. It took me a second to realize that it was the statue they used in Easter processions around town. He then motioned me over to two plastic chairs facing each other. Not only had I not confessed since I was thirteen, I was now going to have to face him. Yikes. After it was over, my mother asked what I had said. "That's between me and God."

So then came the time I had to stand up. My grandmother stood behind me. Thankfully, only a handful of people had attended the mass, most of them my grandmothers friends. And then my fever started to break. Dammit. I am now standing, sweating wildly, even with a fan right in front of me. Thankfully again, this part of the mass was in English. For my benefit, I imagined.

However, my head was spinning as I struggled to stand straight, sweating and wiping my brow and decided to concentrate on the cross so I wouldn't fall over. Then my grandmother's hand appeared on my shoulder. It was time for the Creed.

Up until this point, the priest had been pretty serious. I started into the Creed, as my mother and I had remembered it. Clearly, my order was wrong. Father Manalo started to read from the book. Thank God. I can do it when someone else reads it. It clicked and I just started to recite, then, he came over and just as he's reading, my grandmother leans over and whispers in my ear, "You're sweating profusely."

Oh, really? I hadn't noticed. Father hesitated for a second but then made the cross on my forehead. It was done.

And that's the courageous story about how I became an adult in the eyes of the church. Sheesh.

- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad

Location:Panther Rd,Pasig City,Philippines

The Teachings of Cathol

2010-11-24T09:49:00.001-05:00

Filipinos are mostly Catholic. Like. Really, super Catholic. Thanks to 300 years of Spanish rule, the Philippines is one of the largest Catholic countries in the world.

So while here, it happens to be the Feast of Christo Rey - or, Christ the King. Yes, I blinked, too. I had no idea that was a feast to celebrate. Apparently it ends the calendar before Advent starts. Who knew? You learn something every day.

I was told that we'd be traveling high into the mountains, to a place called, Cervantes - yes, the guy who wrote "The Adventures of Don Juan". I can't be sure they named the town after him, but it's not a terrible guess.

Anyway, everyone said we were going into the hinterlands. I stared back. "Weren't we already there?", I inquired? Everyone laughed at my question. Good joke. Um.

So we ventured out at 5am because it takes four to five hours to get there. Alright. We piled into the car and I was greeted with some gorgeous country:

High in the mountains, my sinuses took a serious tumble. I was already starting to feel sick from allergies. This mass it worse, but it was worth it.

When we arrived in Cervantes at 10, we were happy to get out of the car. Until we learned the mass started at 2. Two?! I was pretty incredulous. I was peeved about having to sit through a mass I'd barley understand, let alone wait for four hours for the thing to begin. Throw in "Filipino time" and we were looking at a five hour wait. In the sun. But we had left early because my grandmother feared parking would be bad. I'm certain we were one of the first people besides the people who already lived therre who showed up.

Anyway, we ate our lunch, enjoying the breezy air and me enjoying an episode of NCIS to bide my time. But soon after, I was told we had to sit down and find seats because otherwise we wouldn't have a place to sit. I checked my watch. It was 11:30am. I steeled myself to keep my big mouth shut as we walked back up the big hill to the square to find seats as they rehearsed their parts. I quickly found a book and my iPod to keep me occupied.

An hour later, sticky from the heat and still sitting in our chairs, we find out the mass is to start at 2:30. Dear God in heaven.

Thirty minutes from then, the place starts to really fill up. My uncle played games on his iPhone while my mother and I busied ourselves watching these adorable kids find their seats in front of us and out on their matching headbands. We assumed they were there for a first communion. Which was adorable until I remembered how long first communion masses are - on top of a feast day. Sweet Jesus Christ in a manger.

Thirty minutes later, the place is packed. I mean, packed. I've never seen this many people at mass - forget it, this many Catholics in one place. There are people standing on the street outside the square. Finally, the bells start to ring and we know it's gonna get started. My mother then turns to me and says, "They're gonna do a program first." One quick glance at my mother and uncle confirm that all three of us a thinking the same thing, but know better than to say a word. We quickly avert eyes so that we don't slip. Mother of...

There are a few skits that have the crowd laughing and my mother and my uncle and I shaking our heads. The skits are about politics. We're not entirely used to - and I'm certainly not comfortable - with such a bully pulpit. As they rail against the Mayor of the town and his corrupt cronies, I can't help but grimace. I fully admit I disagree with my church on a few things and while they may be right about such a disgraceful politician, I know these people will accept what they are selling without question. They are devout and true believers. And this goes against my rational mind, my better angels and even my belief that religion is a private matter. I cannot help but feel even more frustrated as I am forced to sit and endure such pandering. Yes, even a person as jaded from politics as me believes strongly that politics has a place and church is not one of them. I am thankful when the gongs and drums start and they start a native dance that will eventually start the mass.

I am busy counting the pages in the program - all 24 of them - when the mass starts and the people start to sing. I immediately lose count. Its not that I understand what they a singing. It's that all of them - with or without programs in front of them, are singing with a full voice. I almost drop the program and fan in my hands. I am amazed at the surround stereo sound of hundreds of voices all singing as one. I have NEVER seen nor heard this many people singing in church before. Suddenly, I'm interested.

This soon dissipates as I have no idea what is happening. Instead, I busy myself with finding where we are in the program. I focus instead on how the words look and are pronounced than to concentrate or even try to guess what's happening. Before I know it, the priest gives a 25 minute homily. I have no idea about the words coming out of his mouth so I just sit and count chairs. I'm on 156 when communion starts and I'm really amused, watching all these Filipinos try to do this in any kind of manner. Eventually, it becomes a strange bedlam and we just try to hold onto our seats as suddenly someone decides to use our row to pass by and a bunch of people come through. Like 50. Seriously.

Finally, the procession starts to leave. Only to return. More prayers are offered. My uncle tells us that we have been sitting in those seats for 6 hours now. I have officially spent more time at church in one day than I have the entire year. Hmm.

As we leave in bedlam in a bottleneck and try to prevent from getting trampled, I realize just how devout these people are. They have made a long pilgrimage to sit in the heat for a mass and then nothing more but leave. They tell us that next year, they will celebrate Christo Ray in Santo Domingo, the town just next to ours.

It figures.

Posted using BlogPress from my iPad

Location:San Juan (Lapog), Ilocos Sur, Philippines

Goin' Back To My Roots

2010-11-23T10:03:00.001-05:00

There will be a few posts here since I find myself in the middle of the Philippine hinterlands with little else to do and not a lot of wifi. I'd put all these thoughts in one post, but as you may see, the few I do while here each need their own entries.

My mother's family is from the north of Luzon, in an area known as Ilocos. It is the northernmost part of the Philippines, some really gorgeous beaches line the land here. In the northernmost tip, you can see Taiwan. If you're quiet enough in the morning, as the sun rises, you can actually hear it. I've done this. After my father's funeral, we came back to the province to visit and given our exhaustion after a week of the funeral, we found ourselves wide-awake at night. My aunt suggested we go north and go to the casino, see the sights and see the place where my grandfather is from. We discovered a gorgeous, almost untouched place. White beaches. And as I snapped a picture of the sunrise over Taiwan, in could hear cars from it's direction; it's closer to the Philippines than Cuba is from Florida. It was a pretty cool experience.

Ilocanos speak a specific dialect, known as Ilocano. Of which I only know a few choice phrases, and if you know anything about me, most of these phrases are mostly useless and it was, most certainly, a language in which I strove to learn a phrase I have since learned in many different and random languages - "There's a party in my pants." You'd be surprised how quickly this sparks conversation in a purely amusing and funny way - especially when I assert that it's simply a phrase, not an invitation. Instant conversation starter. Or ender.

But I digress. I swear, knowing that I only understand a few words and can somewhat make heads or tails of a conversation now by picking up general context will become important. But it still is Greek to me when they all really get going.

Here in Luzon, the sun shines brightly, and hotly. People here live a simple existence, selling wares and food from house to house. The kids play loudly in the streets. Dogs roam into family yards, looking for the occasional scrap of food from the tables. Motorcycles, a popular form of transportation, zoom up and down the narrow streets. During the middle of the day, the hottest part of the day, it's customary to sleep. Take a nice siesta.

Life is slow here.

Lapog is a little village, tucked off the main road, where my maternal roots go back decades. My grandmother's house was owned by her mother, my great-grandmother, Consolacion, but better known as Mamang Bet - who I had met a few times in my life - as she lived to 82. The house was part of a dowry when she married my great-grandfather, Vidal Vera-Cruz.

This house was one of the first two-story houses in the town. Back then, it was easy to see from far away. Now there's a lot of them. The house was used in the Spanish-American War, though details about how are sketchy and most of the people who did now have long since passed on. It is the house my mother and her sister and brothers were born and raised in. Yes, born. In the house. All six of them.

When I was kid, I loved it here. Nothing better. Me and my cousins, borrowing mopeds from our uncles, driving around town. It was a place of fantasy when I was much younger. My first time on a plane was to the Philippines when I was three. I loved crawling under the mosquito net and watching the lizards that would walk on the ceiling. My cousins and I would play for hours in the yard. When I was eight, there was a typhoon and my cousins and I played in the street, enjoying the cold rainwater.

As I got older, this elation at going home has dissipated. For starters, I am older. Obviously. But my cousins no longer accompany me here. I don't understand the language so I cannot converse unless someone serves as my interpreter or I listen really really hard for some clues. Even then, someone has to explain it to me. It's hot here. Sometimes unrelentingly so. I end up in front of a fan, a book in front of me. Or in a room with air conditioning, reading or taking a nap.

I know. Poor me. This is where I'm forced to slow down. Literally. I find it boring. Against my nature. This time, however, I have given in and am enjoying it immensely.

However, one nagging thought has accompanied my more recent trips here in the past five years: I've become obsessed with learning what my family's life was like growing up here. Perhaps I have become more keenly aware of just how delicate a line my life has straddled: if my mother had never left here, I would have grown up here, worlds apart from the life I have known.

When I press my mother about what her life would have been had she never sacrificed everything and left for the states all those years ago, she asserts that she never would have stayed here. And she doesn't just mean San Juan. She means the Philippines. If not for my mothers plucky and independent streak, I could be that kid in the flip flops riding a bike much too small for me, my skin browned even more from long hours on the sun. My uncles all tell the story of how they were chased into a tree by a caribou (water buffalo) and my youngest uncle swears he could tell me the depth of any part of the river that used to wind behind the house. My aunt broke her clavicle trying to steal fruit from a neighbor - who happened to be a cousin and probably would have given it to her if asked. They speak with a wistful look of times gone by, of dances and movies in the square in the center of town - a big deal for a place that didn't have electricity back then. If you weren't home by the time the town bell rung, you were in trouble. And no matter what you were doing, when the church bells went off, you stopped to pray.

Could this have been my life, too? Granted, they have plumbing and electricity but this is still a vastly different world than the one I grew up in.

I wonder what I would have been. Would I have stayed in the province? Would I have gone to Manila? Would I have been the first of my family to break away to the west? My mother sent her family to school once she got to the states. What would we all have been otherwise?

I sit and watch the world here, lost in my own thoughts, unable to fully communicate and wonder what would have been. Honestly, what else do i really have to do? I think about my roots. How different, yet how strong they are, even thousands of miles away from each other. I didn't grow up with my family around me and yet, here I am, in the middle of a place I never imagined growing up in and strangely feeling sated and at home.

Despite all my hesitations, I am always glad I came back. It makes me humble. And thankful for fate.

And family.

- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad

Location: San Juan (Lapog), Ilocos Sur, Philippines

2010-11-19T06:52:00.000-05:00

Yesterday, we took a trip into Philippine history. It's somewhat surprising to me, a self-described history geek, that I have not seen this before.

We went to Intramuros, Spanish for "inside the wall", otherwise known as the original settlement of Manila. It's actually pretty beautiful, reminiscent of a small Spanish settlement, wedged between Manila Bay and the Pasig River.

It's also where all the history is. It was ground zero for the Spanish-American War (back in 1898, when the Americans liberated us from 300 years of Spanish rule and then promptly decided to make us their territory) and WWII where General MacArthur had his headquarters. It's also where the Japanese tortured Filipinos during their occupation after Pearl Harbor (they attacked the Philippines the day after Pearl Harbor - which is also the day my Grandfather earned his Purple Heart as a Filipino guerilla for the US when he was shot in the wrist) - including such Filipinos as Ferdinand Marcos. Or so I'm told.

It is where the Spanish jailed the Filipino national hero, Jose Rizal, before they marched him to a nearby park and shot him in the back for being a traitor (he wrote two novels that told the truth about life under Spanish rule - enough to earn him a death sentence).

Of course I was fascinated. I know rough sketches of Philippine history and am much more aware of when the United States entered the picture. But it once again became clear to me the stark effects colonization by first Spain and the United States have had on my people. It's too long to go into, but let's just say it sure reminded me of my trip earlier this year to Ireland. I knew we had a lot in common.

Oh, but it's hot here. Ridiculously so. I know all of you back home, getting ready for winter are crying for me right now but I assure you, this is almost too hot to handle. Remember this summer, how hot July was? Same humidity, about ten degrees hotter. I'm sweating like a priest at a little league game. Seriously.

And I say that because I am about to get confirmed. I am leaving Manila for the province, the true homeland where my mom was born and raised. So no internet for a few days. I'm sure I'll have great stories... Until then, enjoy this lovely picture of three generations of women in my family conversing with MacArthur and President Quezon...
.

- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad

Location:Corinthian Hills, Quezon City, Philippines

2010-11-18T05:25:00.000-05:00

DOWN WITH THE BROWN?

There is a strange phenomenon afoot. Everywhere I go here in the Philippines, I am faced with billboards advertising a lotion or face wash's "whitening features", places advertising "whitening services". I know that places like India and the Philippines and other parts of Asia are part of this phenomenon, but I never saw it as pronounced as I have on this trip.

Even ads for stores, fashion, food and new housing developments bear the likenesses of washed-out Pinoys (Filipinos for those of you who aren't familiar with our colloquialisms) thus advancing the idea that whiter and lighter skin is the admired trait and we should shun our natural, brown skin - which also gets special treatment from the sun that constantly shines here.

What is wrong with this picture? Everything, in my mind. Because while Filipinos and other Asians aspire to be white - white folks and Americans aspire to be dark, thanks to tanning beds, spray tans and the Jersey Shore cast.

When I was a kid, my skin made me stand out from everyone else that I grew up with; the exception being the Indian family that lived down the street. I remember being keenly aware of it at some point, but never to the point of seriousness. I knew it made me different, but my parents raised me to believe that instead of working hard to accept my own skin tone or to simply try to "blend in", they taught me to believe that different was okay and acceptable and other kids, in fact, needed to learn how to accept me. They taught me that my value as a person was always going to be based on my character, not my skin tone.

I learned to make fun of it at a young age. When I was little, I had a blood test and was obsessed with blood types for the hour afterwards. I marveled at how people had different types of blood, like their own particular type of show their body preferred and how families share blood types. My father and I shared the same type: B negative. My mother, who has the fairest skin in the entire family, has an O blood type. Fascinated by the results, I explained to my mother, "See, Dad and I are B negative because we have brown skin. You are O because you are... Other."

I was three, what do you want? Other people had terrible twos. Apparently, I was my most precocious, most ambitious, most blasphemous and therefore amusing at three. Always the overachieving Asian, I suppose. Even at a young age.

Anyway, my point here is simply, can't we just accept our own skin? Or are have we as a society decided to not be comfortable in our own skin and instead, aspire to be like everyone else?

I've found a few advantages to my naturally brown skin. Not only are Filipinos not naturally hairy people, my leg and arm hair blend in with my skin tone. Which makes me the envy of all of my girlfriends who are forced to shave their legs for society. I end up having smooth skin from moisturizing since I get ashy when dry (it's like a natural gauge). I get to pretend that I don't speak English when asked particularly racist questions (though this is rare as I end up doing my best to show the person asking if i speak English that I do in the biggest SAT words possible). When I am asked where I am from and when I say, "Syracuse" and they tilt their head quizzically and ask again, "No - where are you from?" - even this can be more amusing than annoying. Because at the end of the day, my brown skin will age better and make me look much younger when I age. Because I always have a tan.

Because I am comfortable in my own skin.

So go ahead. Ask if I'm Hawaiian or a Mexican. I can take it. Because even with natural insecurities and the demands of society, I am quite okay with who I am.

2010-11-16T10:20:00.002-05:00

MANILA

Blogpress isn't working on my iPad. So until I figure that out, no pics. Argh.

There is a smell. It's somewhat indescribable except that to me, it reminds me of home. It hits you the minute you step off the plane. To me, it's synonymous with heat. Humidity. Home. It makes me feel warm and fuzzy; the same way I feel when I smell a fire-burning stove during the winter.

My mom says its the pollution in Manila. When I was younger, my uncles would visit the States and stand on the front step, breathing slowly and always say, "The air is so clean here." I'm always reminded of that when we get to Manila. Either way, it's a smell I associate with home. Family. Roots.

The traffic is always bad here. It's one place I'd NEVER want to drive and that says a lot since I will drive anywhere. Filipinos find a space and go with it - there is no city in the United States that drive as crappily as they do here. Once, when I was 13, my aunt was pulled over in Manila and all I could ask was, "What on earth did you do that singled you out from everyone else?" She could only shrug. She had no idea. It's kind of amazing that people don't get into more accidents here.

I was incredibly jet lagged the first day I was here. I kept napping and if you know anything about me, I don't nap. I finished an entire Greg Iles book along with all the sleep I got as well as visited my dad's grave in Manila. Not a bad day for a first day of vacation. But don't ask me what day or time it is. We're 13 hours ahead and all I know is that it's the opposite back home - night is day, day is night. I'm all confused.

- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad

2010-11-15T08:43:00.003-05:00

DETROIT TO NAGOYA

Okay, so I thought that I would be on this flight for 17 hours. They say it will take 12. Potato, po-tato.

I think it's somewhat cruel to advertise that the flight goes straight from Detroit to Manila with a stopover in Nagoya for an hour or so. That's false advertising. We're stopping in Nagoya, for chrissakes, where we have to go through customs, security and get off the plane. Then get back on and then fly another 2 hours to Manila. Cruel.

What's even more interesting is they show a map of where you are flying and exactly where you are on your journey. Ever see a map of the United States, the Pacific and the eastern part of Asia? I assure you, for every mile we get closer, the plane looks like it's barely moving on the screen. Start with something closer so that you actually feel like you're moving. For instance, we realized it was mentally easier to think of riding 100 miles on a bike as smaller increments. So after 20 miles, we would say, "we have four 20's to go." Same rule applies here: show a map of Detroit to Chicago, Denver or even LA. LA to Hawaii. Hawaii to Japan. Not the entire map of the world and then basically say, "See? You're here, barely moving." the only good thing about it is that if there is turbulence, I'll know whether to duck or to prepare to use my seat as a life cushion.

Hard to believe it's been three hours on the flight only. I know what you're thinking. It's a long flight. It doesn't feel so long at first. Just like any flight, really. Except that in three hours, we've had drink service, dinner and I've enjoyed a free Miller Lite. I don't think I eat that much in an entire hour period on the ground.

After three more hours, I will have watched several episodes of NCIS and maybe have done a few crossword puzzles. I may have eaten another meal. At that point, I will only be slightly interested in continuing to count the hours until arrival.

Three more hours later, I will have fallen asleep, waking up in a panic because I'll need to go to the bathroom and because I'm in the window seat, I will do all I can to hold my bladder because my mother and the kind older (and rather talkative) Filipina woman in the aisle seat will be fast asleep. I will have lost all interest in counting the hours flown or will fly to get there and will instead focus every fiber of my being towards holding my bladder until I fall asleep again.

Two hours after that, I will wonder how the hell longer I will be forced to sit on this plane and will be gently poking my mother to wake up and then disturb the kindly old woman because my bladder will burst. I will forget all space and time and begin to think I will spend the rest of my life on this plane. At that point, they will feed us yet again, after just giving us a snack. I'll briefly consider this a conspiracy, but based solely on my lack of comfort. I will probably consider ordering a shot of alcohol at this point.

After another half hour, no more counting hours, no more wondering where the hell I am, I will have lost hope. I will believe my mother is a shape shifter and the woman next to her in an elaborate plot to drive me insane. They will probably try to feed us one last time and then all of a sudden, the plane will land in Japan and suddenly I'm free!

After marveling over the Japanese efficiency, adorable amenities (even the bathrooms are cute), fantastic pens (yes, pens), advanced technology (think cameras), ignoring the Japanese aesthetic to be adorable yet slightly disturbing in some way (my Japanese friend, Mai has described such a study in extremes), I will be forced to once again board the plane I have spent the last 12 hours of my life, once again to take off for two hours before my final destination. Like a cruel, sad, and unamusing joke. They will, once again, try to feed us and try to get us to buy duty free items.

I can sit here on this plane and know this is the fate that awaits me until I arrive in the homeland, because without fail, this happens every time. When I was a child, maybe I blocked it all out. Now that I'm an adult, I can honestly say I'm really happy I chose to spend money on an iPad to keep me amused. Of course, NyQuill, if it could have gotten past security, would have been a better choice.

But I also know that the minute I arrive in the Philippines and see my family, the journey and the trip will not only have been forgotten, it would have been well worth it.

If I can only survive long enough to get there. I presume no surprises on this plane ride. Let's see how right I will be...

- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad

Vacation, all I ever wanted...

2010-11-13T00:49:00.001-05:00

I have been inspired by y'all to not only post pics but to use this vacation as a chance to revamp my blog. See, I started this thing out of sheer boredom in 2002 before blogging was cool and so while I have amusing thoughts, this is a good reason to get back to it.

So I shall post pics, ruminations, stories and thoughts from the Asian Pacific because, let's face it - we all need some culture in our lives. I will share my homeland with you while I am there, deal? At the least, you'll get a picture a day or so. I think this will be fun for all.

So I have spent the last 5-6 hours of my life packing. Yes. Packing.

The first thing you should know about my people is that they love American goods. Like. LURVE. I can't explain it well other than they love that it's from America. Isn't it nice to know that not every country hates us out there?

So I was raised believing that you bring presents whenever you go home. It is because of this that I begrudgingly and without (much) complaint, use my skills honed from years of working at Mailboxes, Etc. to pack and stuff as much crap, er, gifts, in suitcases as possible.

In previous years, the weight limit to the Philippines has been 75 lbs a bag. Thanks to our amazing airlines, this has been reduced to 50lbs a bag, making my hours of tetris packing really interesting. Surprisingly, I managed to get each bag a few pounds under 50, just in case our scale is off. I'd like to think not as it's my personal one, but I guess I'll find out how accurate it is tomorrow and then promptly throw it away before training for Tahoe starts again...

Anyway, we now have 200 lbs of luggage sitting in the garage, waiting for our departure to the airport in the morning. Packing the carry-ons was also a really fun challenge, but rarely worth noting otherwise.

I am officially tired of the travel already. This will all change once I get there and feel the warm, humid, 98 degree weather and the "smell" of home. I'll have to try to describe that in the future. In the meantime, I'm off to find some Aleve and a hot shower for our 8am pickup because my mother believes you MUST get to the airport at least 4 hours before you leave.

I swear I'm gonna enjoy this. If I get there alive...

- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad

Location:Thompson St,Fayetteville,United States

Check one, two

2010-11-12T20:11:00.001-05:00

Checking to see if this app works for my blogspot account so I can log while I'm in the Phillipines. Here goes...

- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad

Location:Syracuse

2010-01-20T10:25:00.005-05:00

WITH GREAT POWER COMES GREAT RESPONSIBILITY...

Yeah, yeah. I know it's been eons since I posted on this blog, but it's a new year and this will change. But with what happened yesterday, I feel the need to share. Or vent. Whichever.

A year ago today, I stood in the freezing cold with millions of other Americans to watch the newly elected President take the oath of office. A president I had sweat and worked my ass off for (yeah, we all know where I was at for the primaries, but we were all together at the end and we kicked it). I remember turning around and watching the crowd and remarking to my then-manfriend, "This is the moment where I am forgetting the hours and the work and enjoying it. This is what we worked so hard for." I'll never forget the feeling of that day, the electricity in the air, the crowd seeming to be leaning forward, understanding that we were on the brink of something important and something amazing. I'll never forget the cheer that went up when he was announced or the even louder cheer for Ted Kennedy that day.

A year later, I am sitting here feeling like despite our hard work, despite the promise of what was about to happen, the American people suddenly feel much differently. One year. What a difference time makes.

I was in Western Mass yesterday, knocking on doors. Folks there seemed to understand the importance of the election, bringing their whole families to the polls, voting early, not wanting to let anything slip by. And every election day since 2000 and 2004, I simply keep walking the doors, not sure how the day will go in the end; never believing anything I hear.

And so in the end, we lost. Yes, I'm pretty darn upset about losing a seat held by Ted Kennedy and his brother Jack before him for almost 50 years. Anyone that knows me at all knows the love I have for that family. But at the end of the day, we have to ask ourselves, what next?

Sure, I've heard a few people lament over the loss of Camelot. But Camelot wasn't simply about the Kennedy's, it was about continually pushing to that brighter future ahead. That our best days were still in front of us, but we had to fight to get there and change the way things were to get to the place we were supposed to be. Camelot is supposed to stand for our ideals and where we want to be. So in essence, Camelot is always going to be there, reminding us that we can do better and must.

We lost a battle yesterday, but not the war. I hope this is a wake-up call to the Democrats who seem to think it's okay to back down on their principles, despite being in the minority. Who think it's okay to back away from the things and issues that we really care about before the Republicans even shoot across the bow (I'm thinking single-payer here). Just because we won an election and the power back means jack when it's all over.

I said this in 2006 when we swept and I'll say it again, after what was a pretty damn momentous election cycle: Winning is fine, but what you do with it is what counts. I hope and pray this reminds them that we're still in power. I'm all for bipartisanship, but it's pretty damn obvious to me that the Republicans simply wish to be the party of "no". So grow a set, remember why you were elected and do the job.

Or we're all coming after you in November. You have 9 months. We voted for change. Not more of the same. Show us the leadership. And I'm talking from the top, down. We gave you the responsibility and the power. Do something or it'll be gone.

2007-11-06T11:41:00.000-05:00

VOTE DAMMIT!

As I find myself in the midst of yet another Election Day and on the cusp of returning to Iowa for the second time, I am completely delirious.

I will admit that I have really begun to like it out here in Buffalo. It's honestly a really great town. And I actually believe that if a job presented itself to me, I might actually consider it because I've come to be quite fond of this town.

And yes, I return to Albany tomorrow, for one whole evening, before being sent out to Iowa until the Caucus. Expect yet another blog to be attached to this one, reminiscent of the 2004 "Tails from the Trail".

In the meantime, I just had an enlightening conversation with my colleague that can only be best described as fuzzy as we both left the office after 10pm and returned less than 8 hours later.

It occurs to me that there are few records of what I am about to post below. And after a few Google searches, I managed to find it.

So for those of you who have ever wondered exactly what Lisa sang in Dirty Dancing, you know, that hula song she sings for the talent show at Kellerman's, enjoy the following.

Oh, and if you have races in your towns, go out and vote!

Cheers.

Who’s this Hula hana, of kamana whala hula bay, she will hula when you have a lovely gift she wants, you’ll hear her say, bring me a pineapple that doesn't sting a bird that swims a fish that sings, I wanna I really wanna, bring me a volcano that blows up all the molten jama and a blue banana,
I canna canna bring me a pineapple that doesn't sting a bird that swims a fish that sings, I wanna I really wanna,
bring me a volcano that blows up all the molten jama and a blue banana, I canna canna and you can wackle all you wanna, while I hula all the day away, and you can wackle all you wanna, while I hula all the day away,
All the boys of okakokanoka island, gather all the gifts that hula hana asks, they have combed their island home, fulfilling each one, and its worth it when they watch her shake her grass, three, four, five
Bring me a gentle breeze that I can keep, an ocean that’s oh so deep, I wanna I really wanna,
she will hula when you have a lovely gift she wants, you’ll hear her say, bring me a pineapple that doesn't sting a bird that swims a fish that sings, I wanna I really wanna,
bring me a volcano that blows up all the molten jama and a blue banana, I canna canna
and you can wackle all you wanna, you can wackle while I walk away,
and you can wackle all you wanna, you can wackle while I walk away, away, away, away!

2007-10-24T12:41:00.000-04:00

LEFT NEW YORK

So here I am, in Buffalo. Enjoying my stay, despite what will probably be a very busy visit. Then again, I am in a suite with a hot tub, so how bad is it, really?

In the meantime, I found a nice mullet haiku to share with all of you:

Let's go to Wal-Mart
Need cheese puffs and wine coolers
Damn, the house won't start

And on that beautiful note, I hope you're all doing well.

2007-10-16T00:35:00.001-04:00

CURVEBALL

As it turns out, things always come up. I recently found myself in the Philippines, mourning the death of yet another family member, one who I have found to be indispensable to me throughout my life. Not easy to be reminded of morality. Again. I long for a year where I don't have that.

I do admit that it was a good snap out of what was becoming a very selfish phase for me. I remember there's a world out there that I live in. And I intend to become involved in it again.

I've noticed that as I've gotten older, this travel is wearing on me. My body hates me. I'm just slowly trying to get back to some semblance of normal where my body feels balanced again.

But beyond this, everything is fantastic with me. I know I haven't written lately. But let's just say life is continually throwing me challenges and obstacles. More things to learn and move on. And I'm quite content navigating the waters.

Soon I shall have some fun stories. Until then, I hope you are all well.

2007-09-13T14:05:00.000-04:00

SIMILIES. OR CLOSE ENOUGH.

So it's been awhile. Interesting developments, but nothing really catching to write about. I will say that everything in my life is finally starting to fall back into place - moving really takes a lot out of you, I'm just pleased that work has been quiet while I've been dealing with that.

Everything else is good. Life is good. Life is always the way it's meant to be, regardless of where you prefer it to be. I'm just happy to know I'm right were I need to be. And I'm happy about that. Because everything is so much better and looking up.

So I will leave you with these words from Jill - words that now bring a complete and total smile to my face:

"ass bone."

Hope you're all doing well. I'm sure I'll have something fun to share soon. Cheers.

2007-08-08T12:37:00.000-04:00

NEW DEVELOPMENTS

So the move is officially done. Not the settling in, of course. But I will say it's coming together nicely.

I realize I've been negligent in my blogging duties again and usually I have more to say, however, in this case, I shall attempt yet another list of things that are on my mind for the benefit of the three of you that read this. Oh, I know there are more and it's usually random, but it's nice to know some of you actually read this. Whooot.

1. Moving sucks. Donkey dick. Of course, moving in the summertime really really sucks.

2. The other reason why moving in the summertime sucks is because no matter how many times you or your new landlord call the handyman, he refuses to return your calls. I'm ready to find the guy and kick his ass. If I wasn't so worried about damaging the 1917 original windowsills, I would have installed the air conditioners myself. At this point, I'm willing to do it. Because it's hot as balls here.

3. If I ever see the handyman, I'm gonna punch him in the neck.

4. My new apartment is incredibly beautiful. So all in all, it was worth the move. I just need to keep telling myself that.

5. As I contemplate the piles of crap that I sort through and figure out how much of it to save and how much of it to throw out, I realize that after 27 years of life, having this much stuff for an admitted pack-rat isn't all too bad. Of course, then I am inspired to throw more away, but it's hard when you've whittled your life down to 20 boxes and assorted furniture and musical instruments. It's the all the tchotchkes and baubles I've accumulated. Sure, some of it is really kitschy, so perhaps this task won't be as bad as I think it is.

6. I apparently love to speak in Yiddish when describing my stuff. Oy.

7. I am sad to find that people at this age in my life will continue to disappoint me. I understand this is a facet of life and I do try very hard to be non-judgemental or throw my own views of how I think I should act onto other people. But you know what it comes down to? When you tell someone you're gonna do something, it's not that hard. Do it. If you're not gonna do it, then don't tell someone or promise them things that you cannot deliver. It's not only disappointing, it shows exactly what kind of person you are. And frankly, that means someone I cannot rely on. If you do not have the basic tenants of respect for me, you cannot expect me to have them for you.

8. I realize that was a deep thought, but I have come to a point in my life where you either respect me or you don't. And everyone has differing levels of respect. But if you cannot be held to your word, I'm sorry, I don't really have time for you. I save my time for the people that respect me enough to do what they say they're gonna. This may sound shallow and ridiculous, but in all honesty, that's what grownups and adults do. Life is not a consequence-free environment. Take responsibility for your actions. It's part of being a person, if not a human being. Why should I waste my time and energy on people who can't or won't do that? I'm so happy I've finally begun to understand it.

9. Closure is an interesting thing. It's easier to have closure when you're angry about a situation as opposed to confused by it. And time is a huge help in knowing the difference between the two. But at the end of the day, things happen for a reason and along the way, shit happens. You can't control other people but yourself. And in the end, closure is really what can make you feel like you can move on. And I've realized I've spent the last month doing such a thing. And I've learned that closure is not something that anyone else can give you, much like happiness. Thank god for Eleanor Roosevelt reminding me every day that "no one can make you feel inferior without your permission."

And it makes me feel good to know that I've survived yet another life lesson. And I'd love if life would stop throwing me lessons and give me some of the good stuff for just a little while. But hey, that is simply too much to ask for.

So loyal readers and friends, life is as it should be: constantly challenging, always amusing somehow, infuriating, and most of all - happening. So in the end, I really don't have much to bitch about. I'm still here. And hopefully wiser, stronger - and sweaty because the freakin' handyman has yet to return my calls.

Oy. Contentment comes with some cost. In the meantime, I'm praying for the fall to come.

2007-07-22T18:03:00.001-04:00

PITHY.

For the first time in a long time, I shall endeavor to keep myself to a minimum of words in an attempt at pithiness. Only a few things are going through my mind exactly at this moment.

Moving sucks. I forgot I had muscles there. Thank the Goddess for epsom salts. I'm sad Harry Potter ended, but so happy I read it under 8 hours so that I could finish packing. I will need, to, however, pack my Nintendo Wii first so it stops being a distraction. Do I really have this much shit? And where did all those people go who offered to help me move? And finally, 4 DAYS? Are you fucking kidding me?!!!

That is all. Monkee out.

2007-07-16T11:42:00.001-04:00

Update and a Letter

So things are moving along here in my world. Work is still a little hectic for this time of year, but it's not overwhelming. I'm moving apartments, which is the biggest news, so that has me plenty busy when I'm not busy at work. That's pretty much life in a nutshell.

In the meantime, I've found Craigslist to be an appropriate distraction for momentary resting when packing. Partially because I need a dining room table. I forgot how much I used the thing in New York. Which brings me to the next thing...

And now, a public service letter:

Dear People Who Surf or Post on Craigslist in Albany,

Craigslist is a fantastic service to everyone - where else can you find activities, pets, a free dryer, a Nintendo Wii, and singles or sex in one place?

Yes, I'm sure you said Las Vegas. I'm sure there's some truth to that.

However, a few guidelines everyone my abide by using such a free public service:

1. There are differences between "their," "there" and they're. Please learn them.

2. On that same note, please learn punctuation. It doesn't have to be perfect, but being able to distinguish between once sentence or thought and the next is really helpful.

3. Why on earth would anyone want a free broken TV? Throw it away.

4. If I respond to an ad about a cheap area rug, do not assume I am interested in any of the other things you have in your house. You didn't advertise them, I'm not interested. Stop emailing me everytime you feel the need to get rid of something else in your house.

5. If you don't live in the area that you state in the post, please tell me so that I don't drive 45 minutes down a dirt road to pick up a free aquarium stand. It's not worth the gas, I might as well go out and get a new one.

6. Missing connections is really funny to read when bored or procrastinating. Please make the posts interesting, not disgusting.

7. "Strictly Platonic" means just that. I am not interested in being a person you would cheat on your wife with, not interested in jumping into a serious relationship after two emails - all I was looking for was someone to go to an event with in an effort to meet new people. As friends. Because that's what strictly platonic means. It works successfully in places like New York City, I can't understand why people here don't get that.

8. When posting an apartment, please make sure you are in the geographic boundaries of the place you are posting in. I'm not looking for an apartment in Long Island, I was looking in Albany. If I was looking for an apartment in Long Island, I would look in that Craigslist. Or shoot myself. Either or.

9. Musical instruments should never be bartered for a lawn mower. I'm sorry. Call me a purist. You're an idiot if you think that's a fair barter. And I'm happy to take those instruments off your hands.

10. Volunteering does not mean interested in helping you move. I'm looking to help stray dogs and kittens, people who can't help themselves or push little old ladies around from Florida (I do work for AFSCME). Do it yourself. I am.

Thank you for your attention to these matters. Keep Craigslist enjoyable for all.

Sincerely,
Little Brown Monkey

2007-06-25T17:25:00.000-04:00

EFFIN' SQUIRRELS

This morning, I was awoken when my cat decided to use my stomach and sternum as a jumping off point to my bedroom window. Needless to say, I was not amused.

After thrashing about quite unhappily in an attempt to go back to bed, I heard a noise when I settled down. It sounded like a bird quacking and making glutteral noises.

More than intrigued, I sat up to find my cat sitting perched on the windowsill, looking intently at something outside my bedroom window.

My bedroom window is also attached to a door that leads out to a small fire escape. I walked slowly over to the door and pulled back the curtain.

A squirrel was sitting on the railing of the fire escape, staring straight back at my cat, and making weird noises. I thought perhaps this squirrel was rabid. I found out it was, well... squirrely.

After basically yelling at my cat, he started to chew on the fire escape. Suddenly, he started walking closer to the window towards the cat, getting louder as he did. I tried to find my camera, but failed. I was more than amused.

When he got to the screen of the window, my cat reached right out and swatted him on the head through the screen. The squirrel ran away.

My cat then jumped off the windowsill and walked towards the kitchen as if to say, "Well, that's off the to do list... next."

I went back to bed.

2007-06-18T21:48:00.000-04:00

WHOA BOY

I know it's been a while, but I've been rather busy and slightly, um, distracted.

For starters, work has been a little nuts as of late - been doing nothing but travelling for the past couple of months - haven't spent a lot of time home at all. So let's do a quick rundown of things I've been up to - and other sundry items.

1. My cat hates me. Since I'm never home anymore and he's a cuddle whore, I'm now a wayward mother. Neat.

2. Went to Schwartz's wedding in Breckenridge, CO. Not only was I unaware of altitude sickness (I'm now quite fully aware), but I got to drive through South Park. Yes, South Park. As Swiz had stated in the original "Anti-Happy" missive from good 'ol Washington College, one of the things that made her sad was that "we are not cardboard cutouts, therefore we can never go to South Park" - I'm happy to state that this has now been proven untrue. One can actually go there. Interestingly enough, I happened to go horseback riding on this amazing ranch with old friends from high school and my horse's name was Kenny. Only me, friends. Only me.

3. Schwartz's wedding was absolutely beautiful - on the side of a mountain with the Rockies in the background. It was amazing to reconnect with old friends and especially be there for Petee's special day with his new wife, Jaren. I was reminded of the good that can happen in life, which was a welcome reminder after the rollercoaster of the past few months.

4. Speaking of high school, I went to Mr. Hebert and Mr. Teufel's retirement concert at FM this past weekend. It was amazing. It was an honor to play with them and some old friends again. It was excellent catching up with old folks and good to know that we still know how to have a good time together. And for those who were there and might actually read this, I promise I do at times revert to a high schooler when around you and am actually quite professional in my "adult life." Okay, maybe I kid around a lot and still act like a kid, but hey, it was a lot of fun. It was a great experience and so nice to be able to honor both Hebert and Teufel since they both played a large part in my life and in my musical one. One more farewell symphony and I'll lose it, though.

5. I'm in DC right now for an AFSCME conference and while we're having a great time, I can't help but feel exhausted. Getting up at 5am for the AFSCME Presidential Forum hosted by Chris Matthews will only aid in the exhausted feeling, but at least I'm having a blast with all the folks here. I might be tired, but I'm definitely getting the psyched bug again for the work I do. Whoot.

6. I still can't understand why people don't know how to park their cars in Albany. Some guy with a Kansas license plate insists on parking crooked every day in our office parking lot. I don't know if it's because he can swing the door wider if he parks like an asshole, but it makes me have to rethink my parking every time I am forced to park next to him. I want to kick his bumper off. One of the good things about travelling so much is that I don't have to worry about parking next to him. And he doesn't have to fear a broken windshield. I'm serious. If you can't park, you can't have a car. Those are the rules.

7. I think that I can make up rules and that people have to follow them. I get sad when I realize this is not really the case.

8. Paris Hilton is back in jail and everything is right again. I could go on forever, but honestly, now that she's back in, I'm hoping we'll have a Paris-free-daily update for the next 45 or whatever days. But I know this is wishful thinking. Even in jail, the bitch still gets front page. You can't buy that publicity. Take note, Lindsay Lohan. Tick tock.

9. It's hot as balls on the East Coast. Anyone who doesn't believe in global warming should be forced to sit outside without shade at noon anywhere up the Eastern Seaboard. Melt in the sun while just sitting down. I feel like I've rubbed Hot Pockets all over my face after walking two blocks. Nasty.

10. Someone please explain why people in Albany can't drive in the rain. Hi, you're in the snow belt. You can drive in snow but not in rain?

11. Oh, wait. They can't drive in the snow either. This Syracusan is annoyed.

12. Parents need to learn how to discipline their kids in public - sans physical discipline. But for godsake, if you're on a tiny plane and your 4 year old is not only screaming but kicking the back of my seat, do something. Give your kids some manners or I will. Actually, better yet - I'll punch you in the neck. I'm busy enough. I don't need to do your job, too.

Phew. That's pretty much my life right now. I'm dictated by my schedule and I can't wait for that to stop so that I can get back to doing some really important and essential things. Like sleep. Clean my house. Do my laundry. And, yes, take some time for me. If you've been reading along so far, oh good reader, you'll know I went through a rough patch a few months ago. I'm happy to report that there has been progress on that level - I'm still learning and I recognize I have some way to go still. But this hectic work schedule has not aided me in getting to where I'd like to be, but I also know it's part of life for such things to happen and that it takes some time. I'm not kidding myself. But I'm trying to be patient and deal with things one day at a time - and we all know it varies, emotions bounce around. But at the end of the day, all I can do is work on me. So I'm simply doing what I have to do, dealing with everything, and trying to have fun where I can. That's life.

In the meantime, here's a song that I've found myself listening to quite a bit. Until the next transmission - hopefully when I have some down time - take care of yourself. And others.

When I think of all the time I’ve spent
Wasted feelings I’ve tried to forget
When I take a step back, I realize
That I’ve been blind

I close my eyes but I can’t fall asleep
And the air in here is hard to breathe
I’m still bound by all the rules I made
And stay the same now but it’s all changed

And I
I might be alone
But I’m strong enough to say
That I need
A little more than faith
to hold on

It’s been two long years since I’ve been here
Stuck in the middle with the same old fears
I tell myself what I already know
But I can’t let it go

And now I might be in too deep
And I don’t know where I want to be
Lately I have found
That I can see more clearly when you’re not around

And I
I might be alone
But I’m strong enough to say
That I need
A little more than faith
To hold on

When I think of all the time I’ve spent
Wasted feelings I try to forget
When I take a step back
I realize

That I
I might be alone
But I’m strong enough to say
That I need A little more than faith
A little more than faith
To hold on

-"More Than Faith"
The Bureau

2007-03-26T17:43:00.000-04:00

When in Rome...

...there will be funny quotes. The girls and I got together for a weekend of fun in NYC. A birthday, a friend in need, and some old-fashioned fun that included fortune telling, Tarot cards, MASH, Tom Hanks' butt sweat, dinosaurs, tigers, a giant squid, mani-pedis, iHop, and some serious spiritual enlightenment.

In short, it was everything I needed for what I've been dealing with. And I know fun was had by all. And now that I'm back to dealing with everything on a moment by moment basis, I take a quick minute to enjoy the revelry that was had.

Without ado, the quote board:

"Oh, you fell out."
-Vicki (re: page in tarot book)
"That's what she said."
-Keeza
"That sucks when that happens."
-Vicki

"You guys look like organic brown eggs!"
-So Young

"She was getting all into it by the bathroom."
-Jill (I can't actually remember where we were for this one...)

"I've been really fruiting it up lately.
...That was awful."
-Keeza

"You see Yankee Doodle? The big horse with the man on it?"
-So Young to Vicki on the phone
"That's actually Theodore Roosevelt."
-Keeza
"Right, we're behind the Yankee Doodle, with the guy on the horse."
-So Young
"Theodore Roosevelt."
-Keeza
"The big green horse with Yankee Doodle, Theodore Roosevelt, whatever. Yeah."
-So Young

"I need a safety pin!"
-Young boy with pants falling down outside of the Museum of Natural History
"You need a belt. It's not hard. You put your pants on in the morning and then you get a belt and put it on. It's what men do."
-His father as he tried to safety pin his son's pants

"Danny DeVito!"
-So Young (in a raucous game of MASH)
"I don't like short guys. I think Keeza's actually taller than him."
-Jill (For the record, Danny DeVito stands a hot 5'0", so technically, we're the same height. Yes, I looked it up)

"It could be a bonnet!"
-Christine (re: Jill's bra)

"Take care of Vanna White, she's hot."
-A bum on the street after asking for cigarettes and money

"Will someone give me a foot massage?"
-Vicki
"Oh my God, I've been waiting to ask you all night!"
-Christine

"Vicki, you wanted to watch porn..."
-Keeza
"I don't have my glasses."
-Vicki

"Aren't dwarfs disproportionate? You can't be one, Keez."
-Vicki

"It could be worse. He could have said, 'I have yellow fever.'"
-Jill (in regards to scary Match.com guys)

Of course, these were the only ones we managed to write down. There was much more.

Sigh. Back to the grind. Cheers, all.

2007-03-15T23:37:00.000-04:00

JUST WHEN EVERYTHING WAS GOING RIGHT...

Something comes along and fucks it all up.

In a rough spot I'm not entirely sure how to get out of but I am glad for the people around me who are supporting me on my way through.

So I don't know how long it will take until I'm ready to feel good again. But I know the time will come. And my heart will catch up to my mind.

In the meantime, I'll be rather introspective. Throwing myself into work. Reconnecting with friends. Listening to a lot of music. Writing new music. I finally have the impetus to. I just wish I could write music when I was content. Instead of lost.

Time to find what I had given up gladly - myself.

Time to evolve.

In the meantime, let Ani DiFranco songs speak the words I can't seem to find today:

what bugs me
is that you believe what you're saying
what bothers me 
is that you don't know how you feel
what scares me
is that while you're telling me stories
you actually
believe that they are real

and i've got
no illusions about you
and guess what?
i never did
and when i said
when i said i'll take it
i meant, 
i meant as is

the first person in your life
to ever really matter
is saying the last thing
that you want to hear
and you are listening hard
through the splintering shards
of your life as it shatters
and you're standing firm
and you're staying close
and you're seeing clear

some people wear their smile like a disguise
those people who smile a lot watch the eyes
i know cause i'm like that a lot
you think everything's okay 
it is till it's not
 
some people wear their heart up on their sleave
i wear mine underneath my right pant leg strapped to my boot
don't think cause i'm easy i'm naive
don't think i won't pull it out
don't think i won't shoot
  
most people like to talk a lot
including you
you know there isn't much i have to say
that i wouldn't rather just shut up and do
i'm gonna miss you when you're gone
i'm gonna be torn
just remember that i love you
just remember you were warned
 
out of me
on to you...
 
no more.


Best to the folks that read this.  I'll be back.  I promise.

2007-02-28T18:13:00.000-05:00

VIVA CARSON CITY

So I've been away for the past two weeks or so, hanging out in the lovely state of Nevada. As AFSCME is wont to do, I was sent there to help out with the Presidential Candidate Forum we held in Carson City with ABC on February 21st.

It was a blast and I had an amazing time with some fabulous co-workers. We had a small amount of time, but kicked ass and took names. That's how we roll.

As you may have already seen, my pick for the ticket has dropped. Governor Vilsack, we will miss you.

So here's my thoughts for my most recent journeys and such:

George Stephanopoulos is just slightly taller than me.
Us Democrats have some decent choices this time around. I'm especially impressed by the not-so-big names in the race. Senators Dodd and Biden have some really interesting points and Congressman Kucinich is still on the ball.
Speaking of Congressman Kucinich, check out the video and see where he almost twirls off stage. He was pretty impressive up until that point. Sigh.
How did I manage to become the timer for the candidates and Stephanopoulos? Some dude from C-Span came over before the forum went live and checked out the program I was working on and went, "Great. We're all going off of you today. Don't screw up." Can you say pressure? On live TV?
Senator Gravel takes his time when he eats a turkey sandwich.
It's Nev-AHH-duh, not Nev-AA-duh. The Nevadans let Stephanopoulos have it.
Guess how long it took me to finally spell Stephanopoulos correctly?
Taking Southwest Airlines is like being picked for teams in gym class. You hope to hell that if you check in early enough that you won't be relegated to line C.
Nevada is nice, but I don't know how I feel about going to a supermarket where I can get medicine, short ribs, and gamble away my savings in one place.
Again, why do people bring babies into bars? At 11pm? PST?
Hillary Clinton is a celebrity. I've never seen people meeting candidates and crying after shaking their hand. Watch out for this one, folks. I've said it before and I'll say it again. I don't care what you think of her. People heart her like crazy. I'm putting the naysayers on notice.
If you're the only game in town, you can expect a heavy police presence. I saw more cops at that forum than NYC cops on New Year's in Times Square. Sheesh.
Reno and Carson City casinos are Las Vegas and Atlantic City casinos circa 1978-1982. It was like walking into Liberace's underpants going into some of those casinos.
Nevada is also very dry. I'm sure you might have guessed that. I had to buy stock in lotion and face cream.
Missing the huge snowstorms in the Northeast has it's advantages. Except when you are flying back in the middle of one or between noreasters. And moving out of a storage space in Delaware in the space of two days and have to get back to Albany to go back to Reno.
Senator Biden and Governor Richardson are much, MUCH taller in real life.
Why are buffets so craptastic but sound so good? It's like sequels. They look so appealing but after you watch one, you are all, "Eh. What next?"
The boy gets major points for remembering Valentine's Day. Especially when I'm on the other side of the country. He rocks.
Dealing with different time zones sucks balls.
I've never dealt with so many surly waitresses in my life. I always tip well (ever the drama major remembering my buddies) but holy crap. I never thought so many of them could be in one place.
I did screw up the time during the forum. Once. No one told me that when you re-set the timer, you can only put in minutes, not seconds. And Vilsack paused long enough for us to think he was done with his question. In all honesty, it didn't take long at all to fix the problem, but I was worried Stephanopoulos might hit me on the top of the head when he came back during the potty break.
Jessica is a rock star.
The whole ground team kicked ass.
Anyone who thinks that the Hillary bust ain't real needs to check her out in person.
Anytime the AFSCME staff gets together, there's always fun. Along with plenty of good-old fashioned trouble.
We made friends with the 70-year old drummer that plays with the band at the Grand Sierra Resort. We call him Bud. Bud rocks. Hardcore. The whole band is great. Even when the Susanna Hoffs lead singer lookalike tries out a Selena outfit while singing Pink.
Not too many mullets in Nevada, but lots and lots of cha-cha bunnies. Hi, the 80's called. They want their bangs back, ladies.
I'm in a lot less pain when my spine is where it's supposed to be. I heart chiropractors.
After working on something so exciting, it takes a little more energy to get back into the swing of things.
And finally, is it really only February? 2007? What the hell?!

This Presidential election cycle is slowly going to kill all of us for the next two years. And we were silly enough to think it would only heat up next year...

Till the next transmission.

2007-02-01T15:54:00.000-05:00

A DEPART FROM THE FUNNY...

To something more serious. I think Volansky does a quite good job on detailing Dubya's SOTU speech, so there's really no need for me to assist other than to say his most recent one is really no departure from the previous 6. The most exciting part of the night was the declaration for "Madam Speaker" and that was about it.

But in light of Delaware Senator Joe Biden's foot-in-mouth-moment, check out this interesting tidbit I just found out about:

While we examine the actions of Joe Biden and Mel Gibson and Isiah Washington - even Rosie O'Donnell's recent take on Asians - I'm forced to ask once again: Has much really changed?

2007-01-26T10:45:00.001-05:00

THE MOST ENTERTAINING WEB SITE EVER

So Anica found this site and I had to play around. For the record, Chris says about his first picture: "Ewwwwwwww..."

2007-01-09T00:37:00.000-05:00

A MID-WINTER CLEANING

I'm in the process of cleaning out my iBook to give to my mother and came across some really funny and hilarious things that are simply worth sharing. I realize that I have not been doing a usual blog and have instead been posting things that catch my fancy, but frankly, I just don't feel like I'm enough of a rockstar to bore you with the oh-so-not-fascinating minutia of my life at the moment. Perhaps soon. Perhaps I will enchant you with the story of how Governor Spitzer held my shoulder for three minutes. That might be worth it. Stay tuned.

In the meantime, enjoy this. It makes me laugh. Hysterically. I'll add more gems as I find them. Enjoy.

______________________

Remember the book "Men are from Mars, Women are from Venus"? Here's a prime example offered by an English professor at an American University.

"Today we will experiment with a new form called the tandem story. The process is simple. Each person will pair off with the person sitting to his or her immediate right. One of you will then write the first paragraph of a short story. The partner will read the first paragraph and then add another paragraph to the story. The first person will then add a third paragraph, and so on back and forth. Remember to re-read what has been written each time in order to keep the story coherent. There is to be absolutely NO TALKING and anything you wish to say must be written on the paper. The story is over when both agree a conclusion has been reached."

The following was actually turned in by two of my English students Rebecca (last name deleted) and Gary (last name deleted):
-----------------------------------------------------------
(first paragraph by Rebecca)
At first, Laurie couldn't decide which kind of tea she wanted. The chamomile, which used to be her favorite for lazy evenings at home, now reminded her too much of Carl, who once said, in happier times, that he liked chamomile. But she felt she must now, at all costs, keep her mind off Carl. His possessiveness was suffocating, and if she thought about him too much her asthma started acting up again. So chamomile was out of the question.
-----------------------------------------------------------
(second paragraph by Gary)
Meanwhile, Advance Sergeant Carl Harris, leader of the attack squadron now in orbit over Skylon 4, had more important things to think about than the neuroses of an air-headed asthmatic bimbo named Laurie with whom he had spent one sweaty night over a year ago. "A.S. Harris to Geostation 17,???*?? he said into his transgalactic communicator. " Polar orbit established. No sign of resistance so far..." But before he could sign off a bluish particle beam flashed out of nowhere and blasted a hole through his ship's cargo bay. The jolt from the direct hit sent him flying out of his seat and across the cockpit.
----------------------------------------------------------
(Rebecca)
He bumped his head and died almost immediately but not before he felt one last pang of regret for psychically brutalizing the one woman who had ever had feelings for him. Soon afterwards, Earth stopped its pointless hostilities towards the peaceful farmers of Skylon 4. "Congress Passes Law Permanently Abolishing War and Space Travel," Laurie read in her newspaper one morning. The news simultaneously excited her and bored her. She stared out the window, dreaming of her youth, when the days had passed unhurriedly and carefree, with no newspapers to read, no television to distract her from her sense of innocent wonder at all the beautiful things round her. "Why must one lose one's innocence to become a woman?" she pondered wistfully.
---------------------------------------------------------
(Gary)
Little did she know, but she had less than 10 seconds to live. Thousands of miles above the city, the Anu'udrian mothership launched the first of its lithium fusion missiles. The dim-witted wimpy peaceniks who pushed the Unilateral Aerospace Disarmament Treaty through the congress had left Earth a defenseless target for the hostile alien empires who were determined to destroy the human race. Within two hours after the passage of the treaty the Anu'udrian ships were on course for Earth, carrying enough firepower to pulverize the entire planet. With no one to stop them, they swiftly initiated their diabolical plan. The lithium fusion missile entered the atmosphere unimpeded. The President, in his top-secret Mobile submarine headquarters on the ocean floor off the coast of Guam, felt the inconceivably massive explosion, which vaporized poor, stupid, Laurie and 85 million other Americans. The President slammed his fist on the conference table. "We can't allow this! I'm going to veto that treaty! Let's blow 'em out of the sky!"
----------------------------------------------------------
(Rebecca)
This is absurd. I refuse to continue this mockery of literature. My writing partner is a violent, chauvinistic semi-literate adolescent.
----------------------------------------------------------
(Gary)
Yeah? Well, you're a self-centered tedious neurotic whose attempts at writing are the literary equivalent of Valium. "Oh shall I have chamomile tea? Or shall I have some other sort of TEA??? Oh no, I'm such an air headed bimbo who reads too many Danielle Steele novels."
----------------------------------------------------------
(Rebecca)
Asshole.
----------------------------------------------------------
(Gary)
Bitch.
--------------------------------------------------------
(Rebecca)
JACKASS.
---------------------------------------------------------
(Gary)
Slut.
---------------------------------------------------------
(Rebecca)
Get f*cked.
----------------------------------------------------------
(Gary)
Eat sh*t!
---------------------------------------------------------
(Rebecca)
SCREW YOU - YOU NEANDERTHAL!!!
----------------------------------------------------------
(Gary)
Go drink some tea.
**********************************************
(teacher)
A+ - I really liked this one.

2006-12-22T11:09:00.000-05:00

AMATEUR

Thanks to Mai and her unicorn, I enjoyed this greatly and I hope you will, too...

2006-12-19T16:20:00.000-05:00

MISSING IN ACTION

I know I've been neglectful, but that has more to do with the fact that since Thanksgiving, I have travelled up and down the Northeast several times. We moved out of our family home in Delaware (that was a mindscrew) and I was in DC and NYC back and forth for work, so I'm finally getting a moment to get back to things. Of course, I leave again for X-mas and the first week of January is already filling up (why does Day One in New York start on New Year's Day? Who does that?) so it looks like I shall be very busy, indeed.

In the meantime, this is quite possibly one of the funniest things I've seen in a while. Enjoy.

Oh, and Happy Holidays! (yes, I still use the greeting because not everyone celebrates Christmas, Walmart)

*ACTUAL ENGLISH SUBTITLES USED IN FILMS MADE IN HONG KONG*

1. I am damn unsatisfied to be killed in this way.

2. Fatty, you with your thick face have hurt my instep.

3. Gun wounds again?

4. Same old rules: no eyes, no groin.

5. A normal person wouldn't steal pituitaries.

6. Damn, I'll burn you into a BBQ chicken!

7. Take my advice, or I'll spank you without pants.

8. Who gave you the nerve to get killed here?

9. Quiet or I'll blow your throat up.

10. You always use violence. I should've ordered glutinous rice chicken.

11. I'll fire aimlessly if you don't come out!

12. You daring lousy guy.

13. Beat him out of recognizable shape!

14. I have been scared shitless too much lately.

15. I got knife scars more than the number of your leg's hair!

16. Beware! Your bones are going to be disconnected.

17. The bullets inside are very hot. Why do I feel so cold?

18. How can you use my intestines as a gift?

19. This will be of fine service for you, you bag of the scum. I am sure you will not mind that I remove your manhoods and leave them out on the dessert flour for your aunts to eat. [sic, of course]

20. Yah-hah, evil spider woman! I have captured you by the short rabbits and can now deliver you violently to your gynecologist for a thorough examination.

21. Greetings, large black person. Let us not forget to form a team up together and go into the country to inflict the pain of our karate feets on some ass of the giant lizard person.

2006-12-07T10:08:00.000-05:00

Phew.

So I know it's been a while. And I know I was silent after the election. That has more to do with my schedule and trying to move out of the Delaware house, which is a whole other bag of worms.

I will say that after 12 years, it's nice to finally remember what it feels like to win on Election Day. And here in New York, it's a nice change from 4 years before when I was crying in my beer.

You may call me cynical, but what I said before the election matters more now than it did before: It's not enough to win, it's about what you do with it that counts. So the clock is ticking and from what I've seen so far, I have reason to believe that we're back on a good track. Thank God. It's been too long in the darkness, my friends.

And anyone who thinks that the Presidential is two years away has to think again. That campaign began November 8th, 2006. And I will once again do what I did in 2002 - peg a candidate that I think will make it somewhere on the ticket. When I was working on the McCall campaign, one of the managers asked us a hypothetical: If the Democratic Presidential nominees were Edwards, Kerry, Dean, Gephardt, or Gore - whom would we work for/which one would win the nomination?

I would like to state for the record that I was one of two to pick Kerry. And my original hunch was correct.

So put some money down, kids. I'm changing the question slightly, but let's ask the same question.

If the Democratic Presidential nominees were Clinton, Obama, Vilsack, Bayh, and Biden, which one is likely to be on the ticket?

My answer is Tom Vilsack. Where on the ticket, I can't be so sure. Unlike 2004, we have a rare Presidential election coming up where neither the President is running for re-election and a Vice-President is running for the big office. That being said, the demographics of the electorate are too difficult to make a really accurate prediction and the last election confused the map.

And I would never underestimate the Junior Senator from New York. I love her to death, and despite what everyone else says about her chances, I would never underestimate that woman. She's proven she can beat the naysayers. And that is also more reason for me to heart her. That's not an endorsement, just the truth.

What I do know is that Tom Vilsack has an incredible story, he was a popular governor of Iowa, a moderate, and could carry the Midwest. So I'm pegging half a horse on him to make it on the ticket, no matter where on the ticket he ends up. He would turn some of those red states blue - and that would be a good number of electoral votes that flip the other way.

So look out for him. Don't discount him. And don't be silly to discount either Obama or Clinton, either. And I'm comfortable saying that I don't think both of them would be on the same ticket - for fairly obvious and sad reasons.

So let's hear it, folks. Anyone dare to make predictions?

2006-10-27T10:34:00.000-04:00

A PUBLIC SERVICE ANNOUNCEMENT

I take a break to crawl out from the millions of maps that have made me cross-eyed to bring to you a special public service announcement in several parts:

1. After a whole day of travelling on planes for two ten-minute meetings on Long Island that routed me from Albany to Boston to Long Island and then from Long Island to Philly back to Albany (because that makes sense), I don't give a flying damn if your plane was delayed. Don't whine to me. I've gotta get to the gate before my next plane boards.

2. Subsequently, if an entire Judo team is returning from a tournament and the team consists of mostly high school/college age kids who have nothing better to do than yell, scream, and try to rub up against each other, I should be allowed to move seats. Especially if it's the last leg of my journey.

3. In the Bill Maher tradition - a NEW RULE: Air-buses or Air-rickshaws, as I have dubbed them, need to go. If there's only one row of seats separated by an aisle and then another row of seats, no one should be flying in it. I don't care if you feel like a rock star because you have to step down a flight of stairs and walk on the tarmac to get to the plane, they're just wrong. Any plane where the Navigator/Co-Pilot is also the Stewardess should be outlawed. As a union representative, unless they're getting paid to do both jobs, then away they should go. Give me a bigger plane that doesn't rock in the air like I was on a tilt-a-whirl or the Pirateship - anyone who has been to an amusement park knows what I mean.

4. Do not, I repeat, do NOT allow white kids to cornrow their hair. I don't care if you think you're cool. Especially the half skull cornrow - where it's done from the front of the scalp to halfway and then stops like someone got tired of doing it. I saw two little girls, sisters, with cornrows in their hair like that and it was just wrong. If you're a parent, you should be outlawed or blacklisted. It's like allowing your kid to have a mullet because you think it's cute. I have news for you: it didn't look cool when Justin Timberlake did it when he was in N'Sync. Kevin Federline is... well, if you don't already know that he sucks, then allow us to cattleprod you. Frankly, you just don't have the hair to make it look good.

and finally:

5. If you are over 50, it's not cool to have "Orange County Choppers" stickers all over your car so no one can see the Yankee bobbleheads and assorted stuffed animals you've deliberately placed in the back window. I'm a huge Yankee fan and those bobbleheads belong on a shelf in your house and/or office. And gluing action figures to the dash is also a big no-no. Not only is it distracting, it gives off the impression that you're down with having your car look like you're still in high school. You're over 50. Enjoy the Social Security those of us still working are paying you.

Someone's riding the bitter train.

...and back to the maps.

Remember, the more you know...

2006-10-17T15:31:00.000-04:00

SOMEONE'S PULLING MY LEGS...

And undoubtedly, they need it, given that I'm as tall as a Smurf.

But if I even remotely resemble any of these people given my facial structure, then suh-weet.

Yeah, right.

2006-10-17T13:16:00.000-04:00

WHY I SOMETIMES FEAR FOR MY PEOPLE...

It turns out that not only Chinese boys are bored. The boys in the Philippines have nothing to do, either:

The best part about the video is that they are in a cybercafe-type place. In the Philippines, you can find them on every corner. My question is, where are the people that work there?

If you go to YouTube, you'll find a whole collection of really bored Filipino boys. It must be the new thing to do for schoolboys on their afternoon breaks.

Sigh. Lea Salonga is still our claim to fame. It's hard not to see why.

2006-09-14T15:59:00.000-04:00

PATRIOTIC

On September 10th, I found myself locked on Murray Street between Broadway and West Broadway, sandwiched between cars just trying to move but sitting idle because we had been directed and then blocked by the police. It turns out President Doucheb... er, Bush... was giving some sort of speech at Ground Zero. Bunches of people were walking up Murray, turned away from Ground Zero because of the President. Many of them were not only annoyed, but pissed.

New York is not the city to piss off near September 11th.

Especially when it involves President Bush. We just don't like him like the rabid red states do.

Those of us stuck sort of commiserated together. What else could we do? None of us liked the president, but it wasn't like we were going anywhere. Our comments were funny and nasty at the same time, "Oh, we'll just be here until his photo op is over." Or, "Yeah, it's close to mid-terms, isn't it?" I love New Yorkers. They know what's going on even if they don't read the paper everyday. And in times of annoyance, we can chat with each other like old friends.

After convincing the campaign I was working on that I was certain I wasn't going to be going anywhere, we noticed the President's motorcade going south in front of us. Fifteen minutes later, they were going north behind us. And we were still stuck. Um, the big hole in the ground is over there. I can point to it - it's only a few blocks away. You'd think that after all his talk and swagger over Ground Zero that they might have a small idea of where it is and how to get there. ESPECIALLY since they cleared the streets for him to go. I'm just saying...

Forty minutes later, we moved. And I'm still pissed.

IN the meantime, here is something amazing: a reporter who finally told it like it is. And to thank him, I'm sharing. He's said what I've been wanting to say. Enjoy. (And just FYI, the picture is one I took the evening of September 11, 2006 driving back to the hotel. I love those lights.)

The Nation -- Keith Olbermann is without a doubt the best news anchor on television today. Two weeks ago, echoing the spirit of the legendary Edward R. Murrow, Olbermann took Donald Rumsfeld to task for comparing critics of the Iraq war to Nazi appeasers. Tonight, broadcasting live from above a desolate and still demolished Ground Zero, Olbermann delivered a stirring eight minute commentary indicting the Bush Administration's shameful and tragic response to 9/11. The entire speech is worth watching and reading, so I'm posting the full text below.

Half a lifetime ago, I worked in this now-empty space. And for 40 days after the attacks, I worked here again, trying to make sense of what happened, and was yet to happen, as a reporter.

All the time, I knew that the very air I breathed contained the remains of thousands of people, including four of my friends, two in the planes and -- as I discovered from those "missing posters" seared still into my soul -- two more in the Towers.

And I knew too, that this was the pyre for hundreds of New York policemen and firemen, of whom my family can claim half a dozen or more, as our ancestors.

I belabor this to emphasize that, for me this was, and is, and always shall be, personal.

And anyone who claims that I and others like me are "soft,"or have "forgotten" the lessons of what happened here is at best a grasping, opportunistic, dilettante and at worst, an idiot whether he is a commentator, or a Vice President, or a President.

However, of all the things those of us who were here five years ago could have forecast -- of all the nightmares that unfolded before our eyes, and the others that unfolded only in our minds -- none of us could have predicted this.

Five years later this space is still empty.

Five years later there is no memorial to the dead.

Five years later there is no building rising to show with proud defiance that we would not have our America wrung from us, by cowards and criminals.

Five years later this country's wound is still open.

Five years later this country's mass grave is still unmarked.

Five years later this is still just a background for a photo-op.

It is beyond shameful.

At the dedication of the Gettysburg Memorial -- barely four months after the last soldier staggered from another Pennsylvania field -- Mr. Lincoln said, "we cannot dedicate, we cannot consecrate, we cannot hallow this ground. The brave men, living and dead, who struggled here, have consecrated it, far above our poor power to add or detract."

Lincoln used those words to immortalize their sacrifice.

Today our leaders could use those same words to rationalize their reprehensible inaction. "We cannot dedicate, we can not consecrate, we can not hallow this ground." So we won't.

Instead they bicker and buck pass. They thwart private efforts, and jostle to claim credit for initiatives that go nowhere. They spend the money on irrelevant wars, and elaborate self-congratulations, and buying off columnists to write how good a job they're doing instead of doing any job at all.

Five years later, Mr. Bush, we are still fighting the terrorists on these streets. And look carefully, sir, on these 16 empty acres. The terrorists are clearly, still winning.

And, in a crime against every victim here and every patriotic sentiment you mouthed but did not enact, you have done nothing about it.

And there is something worse still than this vast gaping hole in this city, and in the fabric of our nation. There is its symbolism of the promise unfulfilled, the urgent oath, reduced to lazy execution.

The only positive on 9/11 and the days and weeks that so slowly and painfully followed it was the unanimous humanity, here, and throughout the country. The government, the President in particular, was given every possible measure of support.

Those who did not belong to his party -- tabled that.

Those who doubted the mechanics of his election -- ignored that.

Those who wondered of his qualifications -- forgot that.

History teaches us that nearly unanimous support of a government cannot be taken away from that government by its critics. It can only be squandered by those who use it not to heal a nation's wounds, but to take political advantage.

Terrorists did not come and steal our newly-regained sense of being American first, and political, fiftieth. Nor did the Democrats. Nor did the media. Nor did the people.

The President -- and those around him -- did that.

They promised bi-partisanship, and then showed that to them, "bi-partisanship" meant that their party would rule and the rest would have to follow, or be branded, with ever-escalating hysteria, as morally or intellectually confused, as appeasers, as those who, in the Vice President's words yesterday, "validate the strategy of the terrorists."

They promised protection, and then showed that to them "protection" meant going to war against a despot whose hand they had once shaken, a despot who we now learn from our own Senate Intelligence Committee, hated al-Qaida as much as we did.

The polite phrase for how so many of us were duped into supporting a war, on the false premise that it had 'something to do' with 9/11 is "lying by implication."

The impolite phrase is "impeachable offense."

Not once in now five years has this President ever offered to assume responsibility for the failures that led to this empty space, and to this, the current, curdled, version of our beloved country.

Still, there is a last snapping flame from a final candle of respect and fairness: even his most virulent critics have never suggested he alone bears the full brunt of the blame for 9/11.

Half the time, in fact, this President has been so gently treated, that he has seemed not even to be the man most responsible for anything in his own administration.

Yet what is happening this very night?

A mini-series, created, influenced -- possibly financed by -- the most radical and cold of domestic political Machiavellis, continues to be televised into our homes.

The documented truths of the last fifteen years are replaced by bald-faced lies; the talking points of the current regime parroted; the whole sorry story blurred, by spin, to make the party out of office seem vacillating and impotent, and the party in office, seem like the only option.

How dare you, Mr. President, after taking cynical advantage of the unanimity and love, and transmuting it into fraudulent war and needless death, after monstrously transforming it into fear and suspicion and turning that fear into the campaign slogan of three elections? How dare you -- or those around you -- ever "spin" 9/11?

Just as the terrorists have succeeded -- are still succeeding -- as long as there is no memorial and no construction here at Ground Zero.

So, too, have they succeeded, and are still succeeding as long as this government uses 9/11 as a wedge to pit Americans against Americans.

This is an odd point to cite a television program, especially one from March of 1960. But as Disney's continuing sell-out of the truth (and this country) suggests, even television programs can be powerful things.

And long ago, a series called "The Twilight Zone" broadcast a riveting episode entitled "The Monsters Are Due On Maple Street."

In brief: a meteor sparks rumors of an invasion by extra-terrestrials disguised as humans. The electricity goes out. A neighbor pleads for calm. Suddenly his car -- and only his car -- starts. Someone suggests he must be the alien. Then another man's lights go on. As charges and suspicion and panic overtake the street, guns are inevitably produced. An "alien" is shot -- but he turns out to be just another neighbor, returning from going for help. The camera pulls back to a near-by hill, where two extra-terrestrials are seen manipulating a small device that can jam electricity. The veteran tells his novice that there's no need to actually attack, that you just turn off a few of the human machines and then, "they pick the most dangerous enemy they can find, and it's themselves."

And then, in perhaps his finest piece of writing, Rod Serling sums it up with words of remarkable prescience, given where we find ourselves tonight: "The tools of conquest do not necessarily come with bombs and explosions and fallout. There are weapons that are simply thoughts, attitudes, prejudices, to be found only in the minds of men.

"For the record, prejudices can kill and suspicion can destroy, and a thoughtless, frightened search for a scapegoat has a fallout all its own -- for the children, and the children yet unborn."

When those who dissent are told time and time again -- as we will be, if not tonight by the President, then tomorrow by his portable public chorus -- that he is preserving our freedom, but that if we use any of it, we are somehow un-American...When we are scolded, that if we merely question, we have "forgotten the lessons of 9/11"... look into this empty space behind me and the bi-partisanship upon which this administration also did not build, and tell me:

Who has left this hole in the ground?

We have not forgotten, Mr. President.

You have.

May this country forgive you.

2006-09-08T01:19:00.000-04:00

HONESTLY?

Drink the koolaid. Drink it! I'm just gonna let this one speak for itself.

This just in from CNN :

Still, some Southern women remain stalwart supporters of the president and the Republican Party. At a watermelon festival in Chickamauga, in the mountains of northwest Georgia, substitute teacher Clydeen Tomanio said she remains committed to the party she's called home for 43 years.

"There are some people, and I'm one of them, that believe George Bush was placed where he is by the Lord," Tomanio said. "I don't care how he governs, I will support him. I'm a Republican through and through."

2006-08-30T18:16:00.000-04:00

FUN ON A PLANE

So I just returned from the motherland, The Land of Pleasant Smiles, the Philippines.

Or as I call it, the Land of Brown.

While I have many pictures and stories to tell, here's a gem:

My mom and I are in the exit row of the plane on the 17 hour leg of the journey (yes, seventeen hours - on the way to the Philippines, it's eighteen) and sometime in the middle of it, I wake up out of a sound nap to discover a long line waiting to use the bathroom. Two woman are standing and opposite of them is a mother and her little child. I notice the little child is doing the pee-pee dance, holding himself. It's pretty obvious he has to go pretty bad.

I decide to watch to see if one of the women will let him go before them. I look over at my mom and notice she's watching, too.

Then she bemusedly says to me when she notices me looking at her, "Yeah, but the funny thing is, no one is in the bathroom."

And I look up to see that the "Occupied" light is not on. And they all continue to wait in line.

No, we weren't jerks. As soon as I noticed this and had a bit of a laugh, one of the ladies seemed to lose patience and pushed the door slightly, realized it was empty, and let the little boy go in.

You gotta laugh when you can on a 17 hour flight.

P to the S: Kudos to Mai-chan who actually offered up a suggestion to my Snakes on a Plane challenge. I'm still taking applications.

2006-08-17T01:54:00.000-04:00

DAMN, IF IT'S THAT EASY...

Then I'm quitting my job. On the eve of my departure from the states to the homeland (that would be the Philippines for those of you not paying attention), I choose to rant about something that I find completely, utterly - even fascinatingly (that's a word, dammit) - ridiculous.

Of course, I am speaking of Snakes on a Plane. Have you heard of this movie? Snakes on a Plane. Guess what it's about? Snakes.

On a Plane.

Ga?

We Americans really must have dumbed down a lot to deserve a movie title like that. The boy insists that it must have been the working title of the screenplay that got leaked and such a buzz was created that they had to keep the name. But come on, snakes on a plane?

What I'm saying is that if something as ridiculous as Snakes on a Plane actually makes some money, then I'm quitting my job and writing stupid movie plots, too. Just imagine.

"This summer... you might have only seen it in your dreams: Chickens in a Car."

or...

"Come and see what everyone's talking about: Hamsters on a Steamboat."

and...

"Don't walk. Run to be the first to see Monkeys in my Pants."

I'm gonna make a fortune.

This is fun! Who else can come up with movie titles and marketing catch phrases on the Snakes on a Plane theme? I know all four of you who read this are highly intellegent, witty individuals. So give. And share your brilliance with the world. Or the other three subscribers.

I feel like I'm selling myself short. The other four subscibers.

In the meantime, I'm off on a sabbatical for a spell. But keep checking back - there's a possibility I'll come at you from a far-off destination. Assuming I can kick those little f*ckers from their networked games at the cybercafe. Not an easy feat, I promise you.

Until then, take care of yourselves. And others. By doing lots of shots. Lots.

2006-08-07T15:46:00.000-04:00

UM, LOOK BEHIND YOU...

So the boy and I were leaving an end-of-the-softball-season drink at our sponsor's establishment, Washington Tavern, late last week when on the drive home, we passed three suspicious persons lolligagging behind parked cars on the way home. In one of their hands was a baseball bat and they were waiting for the cars to pass.

There was no one behind us, so as soon as we passed, they spread out into the street and resumed their game of street baseball. At 1am.

I should mention that less then thirty feet behind them to our right was a softball field. No one was playing on it. If you had a choice, would you play in the street or on the field? I mean, am I the only one who finds this slightly odd?

Hmmmm... Albany.

2006-07-27T11:27:00.000-04:00

WHY ON EARTH ARE WE SURPRISED?

Any self-respecting fag hag could tell you. Hell, I knew from the minute I saw him that my gaydar, honed over years and years of collecting gay men like shoes, went off like fireworks. In fact, I think the reading was: "Gayer than Liberace's Underpants".

The thing is, who cares? And his bandmates are supportive, though it's for their sakes he kept in the closet. It is interesting to find out that Joey Fatone found out when walking in on him and his first boyfriend, though...

Now if Lance Bass would just take the time, go back into the closet, through the underground railroad, grab Clay Aiken's hand and a host of other closeted gay boys I can think of and lead them to the light, that would be a news-worthy accomplishment.

2006-07-14T18:20:00.000-04:00

THE TIME HAS COME...

For a rant.

This is a plea for all those drivers out there. If you decide to go the speed limit or just slightly above, that's fine. Just stay in the right hand lane.

It's just that simple. Because the left lane is the passing lane. If there's a car behind you, looking like it's ready to ram you in half, you might want to think about travelling in the right hand lane when you get a free pass. Because you're driving all those people in a hurry absolutely crazy.

I'm serious. I just spent the better part of four hours getting back to Albany from NYC and I'm pissed off as hell at those left lane ho-hum-not-paying-attention-look-at-the-pretty-scenery-so-I'm-going-to-slow-down-drivers.

Please. For everyone's sanity. Consider it an act of random kindness. We'll thank you.

2006-07-05T22:48:00.000-04:00

UM, DIDN'T THEY GET THE MEMO?

Frankly, I'm a little disturbed.

So I just took my mother to see The DaVinci Code as a present for taking such good care of me this past week following my tonsilectomy.

P.S. - trying to do absolutely nothing for a week is maddening so the minute I felt better, I took advantage. Recovery is hard. Seriously. Try sitting through that movie for the second time, I know you won't!

Right.

So it's not the movie that disturbs me (surprisingly) but after the movie, I found I had to use the ladies' room. I suppose that not being able to really eat for a week except for liquid for the most part will do that to you. That was probably more information that you needed to know for the purposes of this story. So...

Here's what disturbed me:

In the bathroom, not one, not two, but three ladies walked out of the stall, passed the sink and walked right out.

Um.

Didn't ladies stop just walking out of the bathroom without washing their hands in the early 90's? I want to say it was pooh-poohed pretty loudly when I was growing up - and when you live with an infection control nurse for the better part of your life, you wash your hands every five seconds and notice when others don't.

Am I the only one taken aback by this? One, that happens. Two, that's a coincidence. Three? That's just wrong. Didn't these ladies get the memo? It's good to wash after doing your business in the bathroom to prevent the spread of germs/disease/right-wing conservatism?

Is it just me? I got the memo. And I'm pretty sure that a good 94% of women out there got it, too. Because I haven't seen a women not wash her hands after using the restroom since before puberty. I'd say these three women were like finding unicorns in the forest, but no matter which way you slice it, I was just grossed out.

Seriously. Is it just me?!

2006-06-27T16:29:00.000-04:00

UNDER THE KNIFE. AGAIN.

In less than three days, I am officially going under the knife. Again.

No. It's not serious. At least, I can't imagine it would be.

I mean, really, the only surgery I've ever had is my wisdom teeth out. So I anticipate this one will hurt a little bit more. And no, I'm not nervous. Just not interested in the healing process and pain that will come with it.

Right. I realize I have yet to tell you what surgery I am undergoing. Well, this should help:

See, I've always wanted this to happen. Because ever since I was a kid, I used to get frequent strep throat and then I don't think I spent a month in college without an ear infection. Seriously.

It wasn't until I was in an emergency room in Buffalo last November with strep throat so severe I couldn't swallow water (and my first case of strep throat since 8 years old) that I realized the time hast arrived for me to bid a not-so-fond adieu to my enormously large tonsils and hopefully, the adenoids that accompany them.

You know how they go through phases where the medical community says, "Yes, take them all out," or "No, we stopped doing that!" Well, I fell right after a phase of "Take them all out." Meanwhile, I suffered through more than 22 years of strep throats, ear infections, developed allergies, and sore throats. The time has come for me to say, "no more."

So I shall endure this latest procedure on Friday. And miss 4th of July, perhaps. But then again, I will be accompanied by Vicodin and scores of other pain-killers. And no, I'm not anticipating being the next Rush Limbaugh, but I'm sure it'll make the time go much quicker. If not less painful.

Okay. So maybe I'm a little nervous. But it's the pain that mostly makes me nervous. I know this will pass. But I'm really hoping that I'll be back to feeling functional by Independence Day.

Dare to dream. I know. Don't laugh at my dreams. Punk.

2006-06-20T10:19:00.000-04:00

WHOA THERE.

I realize I have been neglectful. But that's sort of the way things go lately.

In short, I have no complaints. Work is enough to keep me busy and though I miss all of my friends dearly, I'm becoming much more comfortable up here in the Albania area. Partly because I'm spending time with new people and making friends. Which, my loyal readers - all three of you - is half the battle.

But this is a short post. Not intended to give you a blow by blow account of what I've been up to. Because I barely remember what I did yesterday.

You know that website, Overheard in New York? It's fabulous, no? Well, I heard something by sitting on my stoop in Albany yesterday that made me wish there was an "Overheard in Albany", though I doubt it would attract much attention...

Guy walking angrily away from woman: She hit me. Do you
understand, she hit me!

Woman: You're a pussy.

Guy: What the hell was I supposed to do?

Woman: What do you want from me?

Guy: I want the video back! You stupid bitch! The
video!

Now, not only am I wondering what is on said video, but I can totally see how she would automatically know he wanted the video back.

-or-

Guy on cellphone walking down street: Yo, son. Did you bring the
midget porn?

Yeah. Smalbany has its advantages. Sometimes.

2006-05-11T13:29:00.000-04:00

WHERE HAVE I BEEN?

That's a very good question.

Things for me have been moving along at a pretty good clip. Work's been busy. Very busy, actually. But it is that time of the year. Budgets and legislatures in session. Trying to get stuff done by June. So I expect to be busy until then.

In the meantime, I've come to rather enjoy Albany in a strange sort of way. It's like a nice mix between Syracuse and Chestertown - it reminds me of both. Which is weird, but what can you do? I'm meeting new people and getting involved in things. I have a great building of neighbors (I came home to a Cinco De Mayo Stoop Party last weekend and had a blast), I love my neighborhood, the weather is getting nicer, I'm playing on a softball team with folks from work, I'm doing quite well at sitar lessons. Everything is what you make of it. And I choose to make my new living situation as pleasant as possible.

You know, I need to start travelling with a camera everywhere I go because I keep seeing strange things that are just harder to explain. For instance, I forgot to mention that Mad Dog and I saw some dude on a seven foot tall bike in DC. We were hoping to take a picture with my cellphone, but we were stuck in traffic and by the time we had moved, the biker was gone. A shout out to Mad Dog - I miss you in Albany but hope to go to Portland and/or Seattle soon. Just find some crepes and I'm soo there.

Yesterday, in NYC, I was trying to find parking when I saw a kid no larger than three feet tall holding the leash of a giant St. Bernard as it was pooping in the street. It was really funny, strange, cute, and gross at the same time, but I wish I had a camera.

But watch. I'll start carrying one and then I'll stop seeing such funny things. Murphy's law.

So I'm sorry this isn't more exciting of a post, but that's what I've been up to. I shall commence with the funny and strange or maybe even a rant in my next one. Until then...

...take care of yourself. And others.

2006-04-26T23:44:00.000-04:00

YET ANOTHER RANT

I find myself in New York City for the week for work. And yes, I am still torn about how much I miss this city. After a long day at work and yearning for some sort of entertainment, I decided to see what the great city has to offer.

Since I plan on going to the Tribeca Film Festival Drive-In tomorrow, I opted for the arts. I debated going to TKTS since I'm a block away. I entertained Yankees tickets (good thing I didn't go since they lost). I remembered that Lincoln Center isn't too far away, so I went to see what was up there.

Turns out they had the Akram Khan Dance Company performing in their New York premiere- a fusion of modern and kathak (one of the six major classical dances of India) dance. For those whom I haven't spoken to in a while, I happen to be embracing my South Asian neighbors - I've been a serious fan of Indian film, music, and culture for, well, my whole life, but really getting into it with fervor over the past six months. I'm even learning sitar, which is pretty damn cool and I'm sure I'll tell you all about it soon.

So, obviously, I was drawn to it.

After finding out that they still had a good deal of tickets left, I hopped over to the Time Warner Center at Columbus Circle - which, P.S., is a fantastic place to spend some time because it's a cool damn place.

I was rather excited, given that I was finally going to a live Indian performance. Imagine my surprise when I bought my tickets to find out that they also had a late performance of Sapthaakshara in their U.S. debut after the dance performance. They perform Indian classical percussion. So I bought two of the best seats left for both performances, preparing for a night of sublime Desi culture.

In getting the best seats, I neglected to think about the particular sight lines of this theatre, having never seen it before. Sure, I was in the second row. But the lip of the stage was high, they had monitors and lights in the way, and a majority of the performance involved the dancers rolling around the floor.

The opening of the show paired two dancers in an elaborate yoga pose telling a rather funny story. They were soft-spoken, but mostly due to the very strange position they were in - both arms extended to the ground, one leg lifted to a diagonal across the body - basically as if they were about to get into a head stand and got distracted by something shiny halfway through and froze. It was cool to see.

I noticed the audience was an interesting mix of Lincoln Center regulars (you know, older folks with some serious money of the pale persuasion) and a good mix of South Asians.

The woman directly behind me happened to be an older woman with her husband and during the entire opening, she kept whispering, "I can't hear you!"

When I say whisper, I mean normal voice. She was disrupting the show, interrupting the story, and eventually the entire second row turned and loudly shushed her. At which point, she whispered something inaudible to her husband, though the whispering was still enough to distract us - at which point her husband loudly hushed back, "I'm sorry."

Neat.

I admit the performance was rather strange, but terribly interesting. There was some really amazing parts to it - and I think if I had been further back in the audience, I would have really really really enjoyed it.

All of us in the front had to crane our necks and move our heads at various points to see, so it was really very distracting and unideal. At which point, I notice a couple sitting in the middle of the front row.

I should mention that when this couple entered the space, the girl was like, "Oh, I don't want to sit there." And the usher calmly told her she couldn't change seats. Well, it was obvious why since the sight line was so bad, but it became apparent that she didn't really want to be there at all.

Because all the couple seemed to want to do was make out during the show. It was really obnoxious and annoying - I really don't give a damn about PDA, but if you're in the front and center of a show, have some damn restraint. They got it about 40 minutes into the show when they got up and left in the middle of a number. Yeah. Great.

Another pairing got up and left halfway through, but I suspect it was because they were getting frustrated they couldn't see properly. At least they waited until a blackout. Those are good theatregoers.

Between the shows, I hopped into a room they had where they had set up a really amazing jazz listening room (I was at Jazz at Lincoln Center, after all). That relaxed me again.

Sapthaakshara was next and I found out that I had again thought wrong when getting the tickets. This time, however, the theatre was amazing. It is settled in the front part of the Time Warner Center with high glass windows (all the way from the bottom floor - and we were on the 5th floor) overlooking Columbus Circle and Central Park. So I had an amazing view of the park. I just didn't have a great view of the show. They were sitting in a circle and one of them was directly in my line of view from watching the amazing percussion.

See, I'm a really really huge fan of Indian percussion instruments. Vikku Vinayakram (who is the head of the merry group) is considered the greatest living master of the ghatam, an ancient percussion instrument of South India which is basically a clay pot. He was breathtakingly amazing. The entire show was fun and fantastic - and I couldn't really see how they were playing it. And for all of you that know me, this was obnoxious to me, but at least I was in the front row, listening to amazing music and sounds, and overlooking Central Park.

So my night ended on a really great note. My soul feels great. But damn those audience members.

Right. Oh, and please tell me someone else thinks this picture is funny:

I know it's not a clear picture, but it's a NYC sewer cover (I think you can make it out).

But it reads: "NYC Sewer" in the middle and "Made in India" along the bottom. I find it highly amusing.

Just a great way to cap my Indian night, I suppose.

Holla.

2006-04-21T16:16:00.000-04:00

WISDOM EXTRACTION

So I recently had my wisdom teeth removed. I thought this would be an experience that would be chalked up under my Traumatic Experiences files, given what they had told me before the surgery.

I was wrong. I don't remember a damn thing. Drugs get a bad reputation.

Yeah, I have holes in my gums. And my jaw, for that matter. The worst pain was when the novocaine wore off. That was awful. But they sent me home with a medicine cabinet that made everything good. And happy. Except that I had dull pain for two weeks, which I was content to do because I was intentionally under-dosing myself so I don't pull a Rush Limbaugh and get the shakes and sweats when it's all gone.

I'm doing well.

But my favorite part of the whole process is when the Oral Surgeon sits you down, explians what's up, then says something like, "Now, you may lose feeling in your jaw, lips, and mouth because of the proximity of the teeth to the nerve that runs alongside the under of your jaw. For the most part, it will go away after a few weeks. But given your age and the development of the teeth, there's a chance that this situation will be permanent. Okay?"

You sort of numbly nod your head, thinking, "Permanent? Seriously? I'll need a bib everytime I drink?"

Then they shove a clipboard with a disclaimer in front of your face and say, "This is just to acknowledge that we had this conversation, you understand the risks, and are going ahead." They start to leave and turn and say, "Oh, that we're not liable for loss of feeling in your mouth/gums/lips area."

Yeah, 'cause I went in and drilled the holes myself and thought it would be a good idea to personally re-enact the end scenes of The Princess Bride as Wesley - for the rest of my life.

What is that all about?

2006-03-31T02:03:00.000-05:00

JUST BECAUSE

I know that last blog was long. It's what I've been up to and mama's been quite busy.

It's 2am. I'm in NYC. I got bored. So I started surfing the links I have to the right.

I stumbled upon my old friend, Big Daddy Sung's blog. And I got to clicking around to find a page full of postcards he has made. And I'm reminded of why he is brilliant.

So this post goes out to my good friend, Johnny, with kudos for still ruling the world all the way on the left coast and a reminder that I really need to get in touch with some of my old high school friends because hell, we had a good time and we're all quite crazy.

I mean, honestly, this one had me rolling on the floor for a good hour (click to enlarge):

Or this juicy number:

I mean, brilliant!

So go and see for yourself. I promise you'll laugh your ass off. And I'll be sure to link it on the right soon.

2006-03-31T01:49:00.000-05:00

WHY I AM AN ASS-A-MA-HOLE

I somehow managed to spill soda on my work laptop and while it's working now, I can tell it's just not quite the same. Looks like it's tech time for my computer.

I'm quite annoyed at myself. Because this sort of thing happened to my mother's friend and ever since, I've been so good at being careful about spillage around the technology.

One distracted second and an cup of Sprite between the phone and laptop proves that I'm a sacca douche. Sigh. I had hoped it was only a phase.

2006-03-05T17:25:00.000-05:00

LOOK! A NEW POST!

In the immortal words of Johnny Goodtimes, "Ho-ooo my goodness."

Yes, I have been under a rock. Or at least circling it a few times. Life has been full of travel and craziness since the last post waaay back when. So let's do a quick "what-the-hell-have-you-been-up-to" list. I've learned a lot in the past month. And I have much to share, as you'll see. This is long, I warn you. You may want to grab a snack. Or come back periodically. It has been a long time:

1. Work has been kicking my ass. Figuratively and literally.

2. I have now only spent two weekends in Albany since I moved here in December. This must end at some point. I can't believe I'm saying it, but it's true. All this travel has kicked my little monkey ass.

3. Where have I been travelling to? For work? NYC. And not just day trips, hoo no. At least two days a week. I know, I'm bitching. I did, after all, used to live there and you bet your pants that I miss it like the Dickens. But having to travel back and forth between the Capitol and the City every week for over the past three months is exhausting. INSANITY!

4. I've also spent a fair amount of time between DC, Philly, and Southern Jersey. Hey, I figure I might as well see my friends while I'm at it.

Moral of story: I miss living close to all of my good friends.

5. The weather in Albany is pretty lame. It gets nice, then cold. I understand it's happening all over the place. I would like to personally thank Global Warming.

6. I spent a couple of days in DC a few weekends ago (it's all starting to blend together since I went to California). It was absolutely gorgeous. The weather was a warm 70 degrees. It was fantastic hanging out with MadDog and Corsica and having lunch with the Divas - except that once I crossed south of the Mason-Dixon line, my throat started to swell, my eyes started to burn, and my nose started itching. If there's anything I DON'T miss about the good 'ol state of Maryland, it's the pollen count.

Moral of story: carry Allegra at all times.

7. That same weekend was the Big East Tournament and I'm happy to say Syracuse kicked some serious ass at Madison Square Garden.

Moral of story: Gerry McNamara kicks ass and I'm gonna miss him.

8. Once I stopped being distracted by the Syracuse/Georgetown game that evening in DC, we had a fantastic night out in Chinatown, Adams Morgan, and Capitol Hill. The last stop of the night was at a bar I'd been to before, Hawk and Dove. Except that I didn't know that there was dancing on the top floor. Cheesetastic. I haven't seen that many tube tops and sweaty boys trying to rub up against girls since I went to a frat party in college.

Moral of story: I think I'm getting older when I can't appreciate a dance party, no matter how cheesy it is.

9. Mad Dog and I went shopping the next gorgeous day in DC. Surprisingly, I didn't spend a lot of money.

10. We did, however, see lots of minis (children, in our speak). One of the minis had on this huge hat to match the one his dad was wearing. It was very Amish-looking. He was holding his dad's hand as him and his family walked down the street. The hat wasn't as strange as the fact that every three steps, the mini opened his mouth to scream. Three steps later, he'd scream again. His family didn't pay a damn bit of attention. Another mini was carrying a shovel as he crossed the street with his mother on their way to a park. It wasn't a real shovel, it was a plastic one. But I urge you to think. How many times have you seen a mini wielding a shovel? Probably not too many times. We also noticed he had on little gardening boots. Adorable. I wonder if the parks department cares.

Moral of story: minis are wicked cute. But if your child insists on screaming while walking, you need to rethink your parenting skills.

11. I find myself being too exhausted to finish unpacking my apartment when I get home at night from work when I actually AM in Albany. Yes, it is March. Yes, I moved to Albany in December. Yes, I still have about six boxes to finish unpacking a lot of things to find places for. Yes, my delicate Feng Shui sensibilites are being shart upon. Trust me, this won't last much longer. I just need a day and an afternoon. I shall settle soon.

12. Last week, I joined Boom-Boom for St. Patrick's Day events in NYC. It's tradition. There's so many events to go to. All work-related. Seriously. They've found a work day to turn into a party where you're seriously running into everyone in the NYC Labor Movement as well as elected officials. Needless to say, you probably don't remember much of the work you did that day since it starts at 7am at the Mayor's Breakfast.

Moral of story: I wish I was Irish sometimes.

13. Boom-Boom and I knew we were going to be in the city together, so we shared a room at my usual hotel. This time, instead of giving me what I asked for (I did make the reservations that week, so I can't really complain), they gave us a king-sized bed in a usual-sized room. Which isn't a problem. Until I got there. After assessing the situation, I immediately called Boom-Boom on the train and explained that because I was her friend and I loved her that she need to know that a. I was a spooner and that b. our room faintly smelled like urine and I did not pee on the floor and/or the wall. Seriously. It smelled like pee. But whatever, it was St. Patty's Day and I noticed there were three firemen from California checking in when I was. And they were cute. So I quickly forgot about the pee-smelling room until I got wafts of it every now and then. Neat.

14. Needless to say, given our work schedules, Boom-Boom and I opted to miss the first two events on St. Patty's Day and go to the 10am event to start off the day. Within minutes of arrival, I had a beer and breakfast. In short order, I had another beer and a shot or so of Jameson on our way to the next event where I had another beer. We made our way over to the Roosevelt Hotel where I continued my beer-drinkery.

15. They do this big thing at the Roosevelt where they have the bagpipers and drummers play inside the hotel before the parade. McMai (my Japanese hero) and I couldn't resist going over to watch. We debated jumping in the middle of the bagpipers and doing a geisha-like dance before running away while laughing in a high-pitched tone complete with hand over mouth, but decided against it.

16. I still think the idea was funny.

Moral of story: Not everyone thinks my self-inflicting Asian humor is funny. I hate those people. Not really. Or do I? Ah, being the inscrutable Asian stereotype. ("I'm not inscrutable! You can scrute me!" - regards to Christopher Durang and Drama Mama and mindy.)

17. After a few hours and beers, McMai and our other labor/Coro friend (we're all over the place), decided to go to the Fireman's event at the Armory.

18. There really is nothing like being surrounded by 2,000 firemen in full dress uniform from all over the country.

19. Absolutely nothing like it.

20. We grabbed beers and then downed them quickly when I realized that firemen were carrying pitchers of beer. So we were halfway through our first beer when we met Ed, a fireman from Costa Mesa, CA who had a full pitcher of beer. This was pretty much what we did for a while.

21. It actually took us a good hour before we found an actual FDNY fireman. We realized how much we love New Yorkers in that instant because instead of the usual small talk, we actually had a debate about the proposed West Side Stadium (thank you, McMai) and NYC politics. Niiice. Did I mention that firemen are hot?

22. Scariest part of the day: almost being accosted by an older gentleman fireman (think Chester Child Molester Creepy). It happened to be the same fireman we had met at the 10am event where McVranich (we're all Irish on St. Patty's Day) actually had touched this older fireman's rear (long story). After he tried to make out with both McMai and me for beads, some other fireman said he needed for us to show him our boobs for his beads. I asserted that he needed to buy me dinner first before anything would be shown. It was like a meat market in there.

Moral of story: they're just beads. And they're cheap. I ain't showing nothing for that or making out with you unless they're diamonds or pearls. Or both (regards to Prince or whatever he's calling himself now).

23. But firemen are hot, so it's okay. And for the most part, they were polite and gentlemanly. At least the married ones were. Actually, the FDNY firemen where pretty good about it. The other firemen were like dogs in heat.

Moral of story: Did I mention firemen are hot?

24. After this, we went to another bar where it was starting to get super crowded because it was the beginning of the next wave of revelrers: those who had just gotten out of work. We managed to find some space at a pub in midtown. I noticed that with the large amount of firemen in the room as well as the large number of people in the room, no one seemed to particularly be paying attention to the fire code. Oh well.

25. We then left the bar where we had space (albeit quite limited) for another bar where we were practically on top of each other. It was exactly like a frat party. I haven't seen a crowded place like that where everyone's drunk and trying to rub up against each other since the weekend before at the cheese-tastic dance club at Hawk and Dove.

Moral of story: I hated frat parties then and I still hate them now.

26. Given the situation noted in number 25, I decided to call it a night. McVranich had enough as well. Ten minutes after arriving at the pee-smelling hotel room, I got a call from Boom-Boom saying she'd be home in a minute. 10:30. More than 12 hours of drinking. Lots of stuff. And I was sober all day. I guess the legendary tolerance has returned with a vengence.

Moral of this story: iv's of beer do nothing to me. I need to do more shots.

27. The next day, we headed to Philly where I was directing a reading and then Fabs and Jilly-pants had their birthday party that night.

28. QUICK SHOUT OUT: HAPPY BIRTHDAY FABS AND WALSH - THE TWO BEST FRIENDS A GIRL COULD ASK FOR.

29. The reading went quite well. I think I actually might like the play now. I hated it before the reading, but now I have a new appreciation for it.

30. The birthday party was a lot of fun. It was a crash of worlds for me, college friends, high school friends, NYC friends, and Philly friends. And yes, the birthday girls had a great time, too.

31. The rest of the weekend was quiet, relaxing, and I got a lot of work done. Surprisingly. The past week has been busy with work, but nothing to really write home about.

Moral of story: I need more quiet and relaxing days.

32. Last night, I went to an AFL dinner. The girls from work went since we had the tickets and we were representing AFSCME. It was fine. Sort of boring, actually. But the food was fantastic. The most interesting part of the night had to do with the priest who gave the blessing. Instead of saying, "This goes out to all my homies," he insisted on listing as many sorts of people as he could. "For all of those who are underpaid; for those who are greedy; for those who work hard; for those that coast by; for those who have tongues; for those who don't..." I'm serious. And he had a lisp and substituted "W's" for "R's". After his litany of every possible person in the world, we wondered why he couldn't have just said "everyone." Oh, and we didn't know all the folks at our table. Except that the 90's called and they want their parted-hair down the middle back from the guy sitting across from me. And Ricki Lake called, too. This woman across the table had the exact same hair.

Moral of story: never allow me and my co-workers to sit at a table together and a formal event. We will find ways to amuse ourselves.

33. I thought that would be the last post until I got onto the train to come to NYC this afternoon. Oh yes. More interesting happenings.

34. Since when is it socially acceptable to stare at a person while they are getting their things ready? And to lean your seat as far back as possible so that no one can sit behind you? I swear, this guy sitting across from me was the most obnoxious guy I've seen in a long time. He kept coughing and sneezing without covering his mouth, he found every possible way to take up space, talked loudly on his cellphone, and found it okay to stare at me the whole time. I mean, I know I'm cute and shit, but Jesus. If there weren't as many people, I would have moved.

Moral of this story: don't be that guy.

35. Then I ordered some food from a Korean restaurant near the hotel. I should have known there would be problems when the woman on the phone kept saying "34th Street?" and I kept saying, "No, 31st Street." After half an hour of waiting, I got a call from the delivery man who said, "34th Street?" It took at least twenty, "No, 31st Streets" before he finally figured out that my hotel was on 31st Street. And no, I'm not being an asshole, they were not from the same continent or country for you to label me an ignorant bastard on this. OH! And then, when the delivery guy finally did show up, the bill was $16 and some change. I handed him a $20 and asked for a dollar back. He promptly said, "A dollar?" I said yes (I need the change to add to the money I was going to give the housekeeper tomorrow). He asked again, "A dollar?" I nodded. He then stuck his hand in his pocket and turned on his heel and walked away. Eh?

Moral of story: I can walk the block away to Koreatown next time. I was just too tired to think it was going to be a problem. I know better now.

So yes, I've lived and learned quite a bit. And now you know what I've been up to. And what I've learned, for that matter. I hope you did enjoy this installment.

I hope it'll be sooner the next time I blog. So that it's at least shorter for all of us involved. I shall work on it.

Until then, I hope this blog finds all of you well. Thank you for your continued patronage of my twisted little blog.

Cheers,
Keeza

2006-02-01T19:43:00.000-05:00

MINNESOTA IN ATLANTA?

So this past weekend, I found myself in California for my grandmother's 75th birthday with my two North American uncles, their families, and my mother.

My grandmother moved to LA to help my uncle with his three kids (one of whom is my Godson) in August of last year when they moved to CA from the Philippines. I haven't seen her since my father passed away and she was always worried we wouldn't all see each other for a long time. So my uncle and his wife came in from Toronto (his three daughters stayed at home, read: they threw a party), my mom and I came in from NYS, and we all met up in Ontario, CA.

It was a nice weekend, reconnecting with family. My cousins are getting bigger. And cuter each time I see them.

We decided to go to Vegas since my uncle and his wife from Canada had never seen it. And we were only three hours away. Why not?

So after spending lots of money and cruising up and down the strip, we headed back to Ontario, only to get up an hour later for my mom and I to return to New York.

It was exhausting. I was in NYC last week for work and then left Friday morning to come back to Albany to get my stuff, swing by the office, and get on a plane to California. Then we were there Saturday, went to Vegas on Sunday, and got back on a plane on Monday.

Tomorrow I'm going to NYC. Again.

Sheesh. I'm going to need another vacation soon.

But on the way home, my mom and I stopped in Atlanta before heading back to our respective homes (me, Albany - her, Syracuse). So we separated in Atlanta and I found myself with a couple of hours to kill. So I decided to get some food.

As I sat to eat, I was people watching and listening to conversations of folks.

I didn't realize Atlanta would be such a popular stop for folks headed to Minnesota and Wisconsin. At least that's what their accents seemed to tell me. Every single person sounded as if they were from Drop Dead Gorgeous. I was highly amused. Especially by the children and their ridiculously strong Minnesotan accents.

After an exhausting day of travel, I found myself at a Budget Briefing at 8:30 the next morning. I'm still in the office now and it's almost 8pm. I still have to go home and pack for New York when I get home. Oh, and clean my entire house because somehow my cat managed to get a tapeworm. Gross.

So eventually, I shall settle down. I am looking forward to this weekend. Since I'm going to be halfway there, I'm headed to Delaware on Friday to register my car and then to Philly to hang out with friends. Very exciting.

I plan on stopping by Ikea on my way home to finish furnishing my home. I finally got a new tv. The only question for me is when I will finally get a chance to review my budget. Perhaps I'm putting it off.

So this isn't really an amusing post. But trust me, I'm sure I'll have something really funny to say very soon. Lots of funny things happen on the road.

Until then, keep commenting - I'm surprised at how many comments I've been getting lately. Whoot!

2006-01-20T11:11:00.000-05:00

LOTS OF NEWNESS IN THE NEW YEAR

I find myself lacking sorely in my blog duties. I apologize. I've been busy.

Before I give a general blog update, I would like to address the myriad of comments I've received on this blog since I last posted. Would you believe that despite the comments asking you for your email that I cannot access it? So I can't answer y'all back.

That being said, here are my responses:

* Jeff, if you're out there, I'd love to commiserate with you. Hell, I have friends I haven't met yet. If you'd like to email me, click on "About Me" and drop me a line. How 20 something I am? Well, I'd be offended, but I can hardly be. Since I am in my 20s. So... um. Yeah.

* Kate, you hear my pain. Be sure to heed Jill's advice, though. Seriously.

* Jill, I miss you and Quizzo like a monkey misses crack. Or, well, you know what I mean. Tuesday nights and random Thursday nights just aren't the same without the girls. Sigh. Hopefully I can make a cameo on the team sometime soon.

* Mad Dog, I'm all about the gay cowboys. And the pedis.

* Maichan, one of these days I'll reference the strike. When my members end up paying more for their health insurance because of the standard the TWA set. I still don't know how good that all is. And Stegausarus has plates and spikes.

* Petey, where have you been all my life? We should get together before that time of the year when we can't talk to each other. Especially this year since it seems us New Yorkers added a very interesting lead-off hitter. You can hit me when you see me.

* Dave, testicle tap is a fun game that my friend created when drunk. I think you must be drunk to engage. Well, that's not entirely true, I guess. And all of these gay men are adorable as you all are and some of them were taken. And living in Philly. I kind of remember how it started, but testicle tap probably sounds much more fabulous that it is. It is simply a game where gay men allow the women and other gay men at the table to tap their testes. It's cheeky fun. That's all.

Now moving on to our regularly scheduled program:

So besides a new year, a new apartment, a new home, a new job, we can add new car to that list.

Yes. I got a new car. I realize I bought a new car a year and a half ago. Well, it was used. But I had to part with my Jeep when it became evident that with the events of late last year I had acquired my father's Nissan Quest. So four cars between my mother and I do not equal happiness in the wallet. I decided to trade in two for new (a phrase I have coined in the past week). And got something completely unexpected.

It's extravagant. It's huge. And it makes me nervous because it's new and I've never ever owned a new car in my life. I've always had hand-me-down cars or used cars that I drove into the ground (even the Liberty was no exception to this). So now I have a completely new car to drive into the ground.

I have a new, fully loaded 2006 Limited Dodge Durango. It's fairly amusing. But I got an AMAZING deal. Partly because of the trading two for new thing, but also because I negotiated like a pro. I had intended to get a new and fully loaded 2006 Limited Jeep Liberty. Or a smaller car that I wouldn't have to pay much on. But I basically got this car for the same amount I paid on my Liberty for less time and with everything thrown in. And because I'm union, I couldn't even look at many cars, I was keeping within the UAW list of built cars for 2006. Solidarity, friends.

So if you see a little brown monkey driving around in a huge car, it's probably me. It's really funny. And I'm getting used to it. It still makes me nervous, though. I hope I get over it.

Other than that, there seems to be nothing to write home about. Except that I've been busy. Especially now that Session has started and there's nothing but events and receptions to go to. Which would be fun. Except the whole time I've been out there, I find myself distracted by a singular, nagging thought: I hope to hell I get home in enough time to find parking for my tank.

Yeah. My life is complicated. Ha.

Oh, I'm really serious about doing this whole Asian excursion at some point. I hope someone will join me for the trip. I need a spiritual cleansing. I picked up learn Hindi the other day. I've reclaimed my Dhammapada, my Bhagavad Gita, and my Upanishads. I have been searching for interesting locales in India, Japan, Nepal, Tibet, mainland China, Singapore, Malaysia, Korea, and yes, the Philippines. I have netflixed foreign movies out the ass lately (specifically Chinese Kung-Fu movies and Bollywood). It's time for mama to get in touch with her Asian/Pacific Islander roots. Who wants in on the fun?

Right. Now off to do some budget analyzation. Whoot.

2006-01-01T23:51:00.000-05:00

LOST IN THOUGHT

I write this first blog of the New Year in a rather introspective time of my life. I have been pontificating and musing for the last week, at least. I'm in deep pontification and muse-ation, I suppose. I can't really put my finger on why, but I suppose such things happen from time to time and I find it rather healthy and at least a yearly happening.

I can look back over the past year and understand why I am in such a thoughtful phase in my life. Like Volansky, I feel like I have fallen down the rabbit hole, though I don't oppose company. I just don't know if I keep it well these days. I suppose the first holiday without my father and dealing with all the life changes with family, work, and even living environment can bring about such times and I can say that perhaps it is well deserved. I never took time off to deal with anything, was overwhelmed at times during the year, but now I find myself at the beginning of a new year and it's time, I guess, to take a little "me" time. I'm starting a new phase of my life and I look forward to it. I just need a good breather and this past week has sufficed.

But besides my mental and emotional state, I have a bone to pick. No, I shall refrain from the soapbox on this first post of 2006. I think this past year, in political terms, has been quite played out and very well picked-apart already. Like many in my party, I shall simply allow events to play out. It seems people have begun to wake up and are starting to pay attention. Let's hope it continues.

But I choose to pick away at a bone that has been bothering me for a couple of weeks now and came to a head this past Friday: PEOPLE NEED TO LEARN MOVIE AND THEATRE-GOING ETIQUETTE. NOW.

Let me break it down by category:

WHEN GOING TO A MOVIE:

1. I know it tells you to turn your cell ringer to silence. I wish we could go one further to turning it off. But since people haven't quite even grasped the "silence" mode, let's at least try not answering it in the theatre. If it's that damn important, take it outside, mmkay?

2. Just 'cause the seats recline now and there's more room still doesn't give you the right to put your feet on the seat in front of you, especially if I'm sitting in front of you. I can still feel it.

3. Don't throw food. This works for the dinner table, too.

4. One or two comments to your friend/girlfriend/boyfriend/family member is okay as long as it's whispered. Full conversation is still a no-no.

5. This goes with the previous one, but pay attention. If you're talking, you miss something. And it's definitely still not okay to ask your movie-going companion(s) what you missed. Especially if you ask loudly.

6. Please refrain from speaking to the actors on screen. They can't hear you. You won't be able to change the storyline, I don't care how good your magic is.

7. If you're gonna make out or do other things in the theatre, please sit in the back. Or far away from people. I didn't pay $10+ for a show, I paid for a movie.

8. Unless your name ends with Ebert, please do stop criticizing the movie before the credits roll. I don't care what you think.

WHEN AT THE THEATRE:

1. If you are 20 minutes early to the theatre, please take the time to go to the bathroom before you sit down. Especially at a show that is closing the next night. Yes, the theatre is packed. Especially on Broadway. Do not make us get up when you find your seat only to have us sit down and then make us get up again five minutes later when you decide to go to the bathroom. The funny thing about Broadway and entertainment in general is that they are trying to make a quick buck. So the theatre seats are usually much closer than comfortable. Please remember this as you make us sit down, stand up like yo-yos. If you have time, pee or whatever before you find your seat.

2. Do not bring food to live performances and then expect everyone to not look at you funny when you open it in the middle of the show.

3. If at a musical, it is not okay to talk during the Overture or Entre' Act. They give you a hint when the performance begins:they turn off the house lights. Just because no action is happening on stage does not mean you can talk.

4. Remember what I said about the seats being close together in a theatre? Right. Draping your jacket or coat or cane over the arm rest I must share with you is not neat. I did not pay $100 to sit cock-eyed because you can't put it in your lap or in front of you.

5. It is customary to clap after musical numbers. It is not customary to start up your conversation where you left off until the actors start speaking again.

6. As at movies, pay attention. I know it's a little different because in live theatre there's a lot more happening, but because it's live theatre, it's especially important not to discuss the plot. For one very good reason: I cannot rent a performance of a show to watch at my lesuire because you were too busy yapping away to pay attention.

7. As with movies, turn off your cellphone. You'll put off the actors. And piss the hell out of everyone because theatre costs a hell of a lot more than movies.

8. At musicals, please wait until the musical number is over before getting up. In fact, if you are five minutes from the intermission, wait. Cork it. I don't care what you do. Especially if you're in the middle of the row. Forcing an entire row of people up in the middle of the 11 o'clock number or even the number before the intermission, or any number whatsoever, is just wrong and rude.

9. The actors and actresses are getting paid a lot of money to act and sing and dance. I'm paying a lot of money to watch it. So please refrain from singing along or humming along to the numbers.

10. Just because you've seen Phantom of the Opera, Cats, Les Miserables, or any of the current shows on Broadway does not make you an expert. I have a goddamn degree in Theatre and you don't hear me saying things like, "Well, it's what to be expected at a show like this. I mean, I know I see more 'classic' musicals, but you just can't compare this to Phantom." You really don't have a clue, do you?

Seriously. And there's more, I just hit the highlights.

Since the holidays, I've seen lots of movies: Harry Potter (twice), Rent, Elizabethtown, Walk the Line, Memoirs of a Geisha (twice), The Producers - and every time, I am reminded why I prefer DVDs in the comfort of my own home on the couch.

And last Friday, I saw Sweet Charity with Christina Applegate because it's closed Saturday and I had been wanting to see it. And yes, Christina was amazing. And outside of the theatre, I wanted to say, "Look, there's Jesus!" but it was really difficult since she wasn't speaking much because she was saving her voice for the next night and because we had to rotate quickly after she signed programs or whatever. Jill wanted me to say "Why don't you go back to your home on Whore Island?!" but I opted against it for obvious reasons, as well as the reasons I outlined above.

But despite how good the show was, I found myself plenty annoyed at the theatregoers my mother and I were surrounded by. Besides talking, being rude, acting like pretentious theatre snobs (I mean, really, I think I have a legitimate bone there), getting up in the middle of numbers, or singing along, I thought I was going to go out of my mind. I made the best of it, of course, but the Christ.

I would also like to say, as a fan of Fosse and "Rich Man's Frug", I was amazed at the choreography for that number. I think I had my mouth open the whole time. That is, when I wasn't killing my neck trying to see around the woman in front of me who was bobbing her head around like a liver on a stick.

I mean, come on! I can't seem to find any sort of live entertainment I can enjoy anymore without someone mucking it up for me. And that even includes concerts. It's becoming unacceptable. I'm spending far too much money being annoyed at things that I used to enjoy.

Sigh. I'm happy that's off my chest.

Best wishes for the New Year, loyal readers. 'Till the next blog inkling...

2005-12-19T13:41:00.000-05:00

CROUCHING CONCUBINE, HIDDEN GEISHA

I have finally moved into my apartment in Albany. I need to buy more surfaces before I can finish unpacking, but until then, at least I'm moved in.

But between wrestling with Ikea furniture with the help of one Mad Dog Darby, moving cartons, dealing with ridiculous amounts of packing paper, and trying desperatly not to get a cardboard cut, I've been reading Memoirs of a Geisha since I not only want to see the movie, but Walsh had told me years ago that it was her favorite book and I've been meaning to read it.

Plus, it's the only book not in a box right now. Right.

It really is quite a fabulous book. You learn so much about the Geisha and despite the story breezing through the second World War in Japan, it's still a great read.

But it's in Japan, right?

So doesn't anyone else find it funny that the main women in the movie will be played by Chinese women?

And basically the entire cast of Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon?

I mean, I heart, HEART Michelle Yeoh. And Ziyi Zhang - I anticipate she will have learned English for this movie? Would be fun to see the two of them in a film again where they weren't trying to kill each other with strange weapons. And Ken Wantanabe! I'm very excited for this movie - and not only because it's another chance for a bunch of Asian actors (who are fantastic) to get together.

But let's call it what it is, shall we? I have always strove for proper and clear definitions (well, at least since I was a Coro). So let's call it what it is and give it a proper subtitle:

Memoirs of a Concubine: Adapted from Memoirs of a Geisha, but we couldn't find enough Japanese actors who could play the lead women roles.

Not as misleading and better, ethical marketing. As an Asian, I wouldn't be offended.

2005-12-14T14:01:00.000-05:00

HIGHLIGHT REEL:

Okay. So much has happened since I last posted. So to follow in the shoes of Walsh, I will hit the highlights of what hast passed in the past week or so...

1. Frustrated by the moving process (you will see this several times).
2. I spent almost $700 on a hotel room for the Spitzer Fundraiser in NYC. Think that's crazy? He raised $5 million that night.
3. The next night, dropped almost $500 on a different hotel in NYC. But got almost 6,000 points for staying there one night. Whohee!
4. That same night, got the Fighting Painting Monkeys, the Lobby Song, and Pass a Bill song stuck in my head.
5. Later that night, I got two hours of sleep and then Jessica and I left NYC only to be almost killed on the ride home because of the Noreaster that hit last Friday. We did two 360's near exit 13a. Luckily, we weren't hit, nor did we hit the guardrail, we spun over three lanes, and everything was fine. We've been touched by an angel, yo (name the movie line).
6. Friday evening, spent time with the WC kids for SF's birthday. Of course, this meant spending time with Ross, Michael, and Jilly Bear before the event, only to be joined by the fabulous Christine. Five or six short beers, two Boli Stolly's, and a limon shot later, we headed to the party. Where I proceeded to hang out with Elle and the gay boys, Sofa Kingdom, and of course, the WC kids. And included a chocolate cake shot, two Nutty Irishmen, two shots of Jameson, and a shot of SoCoh. And a game of Testicle Tap with all the gay men. Yes, it was as fun and as fabulous and as strange as a drunk night can be.
7. 8:00 am Saturday morning (after going to bed at 4ish), I headed back to NYC with Fabs, Chris, and Chris's roommate, Stevie. Jill couldn't get anyone to cover her shifts at Morimoto. We had a fabulous time.
8. Got to see the Van Gogh drawings at the Met. Awesome.
9. Got to see Ilana and Olivia and Vicki. And Vicki's friend. Who is interesting, to say the least, at karaoke.
10. Got a hug from the Karaoke man for my It's the End of the World (As We Know It)performance. Whoot-whoot!
11. I still miss Lucky's and Lalo. Sigh.
12. And Houston's.
13. And the Union Square Holiday Fair.
14. We had a great time.
15. The movers came to pack my stuff on Monday. The guy who assessed my stuff didn't do a great job of assessing how much work they'd have to do. They were fantastic, though. Just took all day. So all of my stuff got packed. Well, stuff for the most part. There was stuff that they took that I didn't want them to take. And stuff they didn't take that they should have. But it's small stuff enough. They worked hard, though. And they were fantastic guys.
16. I went to see Dave last night with Ooter at the Wachovia Center and we had amazing seats. Fantastic, if you will. I realized I am getting old because we bowed out before the end of the encore to avoid the traffic associated with concerts. I have vowed not to do this again.
17. Went to Quizzo just in time for the last two rounds. Placed 4th. Not too bad, considering that we had won twice in a row. Sofa Kingdom placed 3rd, not too far above us. But seriously, do you know the name of the operation that netted Saddam Hussein? Without googling it? Yeah, thought so.
18. That was my last Quizzo for a while. Tear. I'll just have to find it in Albany. Or start it in Albany. Huh.
19. I move into my new apartment on Saturday.
20. I still have lots to do today.

With that being said, I shall leave you be since I need to leave Delelelel at the butt-crack of dawn to make it into Albany by the 11pm conference call. Sweet Lord.

2005-12-07T10:21:00.000-05:00

HELL HAST FROZEN OVER.

I'm sure you thought hell had frozen over when the BoSux won the series last year. Hell, I did, too. And it probably did then. But something momentous has happened.

We won again last night at Quizzo.

We even beat Sofa Kingdom.

Dizzy from our first win, we were excited, but I think the reality is setting in. We kicked their asses.

No 100 point game this time. In fact, it was almost a mirror of last week. With help from Padrino, who finally managed a cameo at our Quizzo game, we got every question right in the first round, including the bonus, to net us 11 points (Dave was instrumental in knowing FSU is playing in the Orange Bowl) and then we totally sucked the second round (50/50 before or after Pearl Harbor round - it was hard) and we only got 4 right for an awesome score of 19 (fourth from last).

Then we were saved.

See, we attributed the first win to Nick and Jessica and Malaysia. This time around, we attribute the win to our alcoholism and Richard Strauss.

We got two questions wrong in the Wild Card Round, but good enough to get us 43 points, good enough for 4th place by the end of the third. The Wild Card Round was alcohol. As if God herself couldn't give us a better topic. We didn't know the breweries in Philly, which is the reason we got two wrong, but we even got the Grappa question.

Then the infamous "Impossible Round" happened and surprisingly, we were feeling pretty strong. After much deliberation as to which President in the 20th century had the shortest tenure (Ford, by the way, and yes, we got it right), he threw us a softball with the 10 point bonus question - and we were only one of two teams to get it right: Which German composer wrote Thus Spake Zarathrusta, made famous by the movie 2001 Space Oddessey? I think Fab and I almost fell out of our seats.

Strauss, by the way. Not Wagner. Which is what everyone else guessed. Finally! All those years of being a classically trained violinist pay off! Granted, it was Quizzo, but whatever!

So with one wrong in the round, but still with the 10 pointer, we got a whopping 50 points to bring our score up to 93. We figured we had at least placed in the top three.

Then Johnny says that there was a pretty serious race for the top three. We're like, no way, we might have a chance at 2nd. Then he tells everyone to give a hearty boo to this week's winners, I Went to College With Prince Humperdink's Daughter. We found our name funny.

Total upset. We won by 7 points. Over two top teams that usually win or place first or second - one being the infamous Sofa Kingdom. Sure, there were only two of their members there, but we still took it from them.

And thus hell froze over again. Now onto the Three-Peat. Though I won't be there next week. Mama's seeing DMB with Ooter.

I would also like to take this opportunity to plead with Maury Povich: PLEASE, PLEASE, PLEASE DO A DIFFERENT SHOW BESIDES "WHO'S YOUR DADDY?" IT IS GETTING OLD. If I may make a suggestion, he sometimes breaks from the usual paternity tests to do makeovers. He might start with offering to fix the teeth of his many guests.

I know this is mean. But honestly. It's worse than an English Pub in there. I had to change the channel. Besides the fact that I'm tired of the concept.

I also realize that my last two posts have been Quizzo-related. Lots of people have been like, how's the move? Next question. It's complicated and annoying and frankly, I'm going out of my mind. So Quizzo it is.

But look out! The next post will be NYC related. The Philly Phabulous girls and I will be hitting the city this weekend. Hard. I'm sure something rather amusing will come of it.

Unless a rant comes first. But I dunno that will happen.

In the meantime, spay and neuter your pets. Monkey, out!

2005-11-30T10:04:00.000-05:00

FINALLY!!!

Last evening, the Philly Phabulous girls and I, under the name, Alicia Keyes is my Second Cousin Twice Removed, CAME IN FIRST PLACE IN QUIZZO LAST NIGHT!

Yes. I come to you with much gloat. Of course, the evil Sofa Kingdom wasn't there, but that's neither here nor there. We finally broke the 100 point mark last evening to win by 2 points. Good thing Jill and I spent an hour studying "Today in History" before Quizzo.

I know we're geeks. Embrace it.

But as Johnny Goodtimes (the Quizzo Master) surmised, we won because of Nick and Jessica's love. Or lack of, now that the two of them are separated. See, the wild card round, in honor of the separation, Johnny thought it would be fun to have the topic be "Famous Jessicas and Nicks in History." And thanks to Jessica Tandy, Stevie Nicks, Eight is Enough, and Nick Nolte, we got every single question in the round correct, moving us from 4th to last to 3rd place. We had done decently in the first round, bombed the second, and then rocked the 3rd. We then also get only one wrong in the Impossible Round and thanks to LBJ, Malaysia (the big 10 point question), and Michigan Football, we managed the win.

Seriously. Johnny was proud (the team picture will be there soon). So we got gloating rights for an eveing, $40 off the bar tab, decided to share with the guys at the table next to us (who gave us the correct answer to one in the impossible round), little old man at the bar (who gave us the correct answer to another one in the impossible round), shots of Jameson all around, and then closed the bar. We managed to make a few more friends as the night went on, but all in all in good fun.

That's the good news.

Oh, and in case you were wondering, Alicia Keyes is Jill's second cousin twice removed. Yeah. We were surprised, too.

'Till next time...

2005-11-29T00:13:00.000-05:00

WHEN THERE'S NOTHING ELSE...
I've been rather introspective lately. Had lots of time to mull since Turkey Day. Didn't really leave the homefire too much these past five days, caught up on sleep, paperwork, thinking.

Nothing terribly new to report except that I found this on the Brotzman's page and we all know that I can't resist a survey. So here goes:

1. What high school did you go to? Fayetteville-Manlius High School, baby.

2. What year did you graduate? 1997

3. What were your favorite band(s) or artist(s): Dave Matthews, Ani DiFranco, Indigo Girls, Dar Williams, Dancing for Nickels (my band, we did lots). This was all when I wasn't playing in the orchestra, so I guess that classical figures in there somewhere.

4. What was your favorite outfit? Jeans and a t-shirt. Birkensocks. And cargo shorts when it was nice out. Didn't really care much about fashion so much as comfort. Crunchy granola I was.

5. What was up with your hair? Not a whole hell of a lot. It was long in high school. For the most part.

6. Who were your best friend(s)? I had circles that expanded and closed tighter as folks graduated. For a while it was Joanna and that whole crew. Michelle. Elizabeth. Kelly. Nisha. Jamie. Sugene, Steve, Ander-Pander Whoopsie-Poopsie, Billy, Big Daddy Sung, Dave, Leah, Jeremy, Workman, Ange, Wound, Gibbon, the band. I was fortunate to have such great friends in high school. Most of us are still in touch when we can.

7. What did you do after school? God. I was President of my class all four years, so that took time. Orchestras - Chamber and the Pit variety. Yearbook. Various clubs I belonged to which I now conveniently forget. Thespians, MUN, NHS, I was always up to something, I remember not having much time in high school. Not much has changed since. Yeah, I'm a geek. I love it.

8. Where did you work? Well I did work at Fay's Drug Store in the Pharmacy for a year. Then I started at Mailboxes, Etc, which was a much better place of work. Better schedule. Even worked there when I was home for vacations from college for a couple of years.

9. Did you take the bus? Until I got my car, you betcha.

10. Who did you have a crush on? I think I might have had a crush on my guy friends as the years went on. Until I realized they really were just friends. But that's really about it. The good ones were all taken and the rest didn't interest me much.

11. Who did you date? See previous. I was rather busy, I didn't date much.

12. Did you fight with your parents? Who didn't?

13. Did you ever get detention? Maybe once? I can't quite remember, though upon more reflection, I don't think I ever had detention. I was quite the good kid.

14. Favorite subject? Orchestra with Hebert. Hands down. For obvious reasons. But I also always enjoyed my english and social studies classes.

15. Who did you have a CELEBRITY crush on? Jesus. Dave Matthews for a good long time. Brad Pitt - hello, what girl didn't in our day? Or now, for that matter? Keanu around Speed. He had that sexy arm thing happening when he was under the bus. His acting might have sucked, but I sure as hell didn't mind watching him.

16. My grades were... Pretty good when I applied myself. Which was often, I have to admit. Because I'm Asian. That's how we do it. But I always walked that extracurricular/academic line, I probably could have done better.

17. Did you smoke cigarettes? Nope.

18. Did you lug all of your books around in your backpack all day? Not if I could help it. We used to take Freshman who had those huge L.L. Bean bags and spin them because they used to carry their all their books - they couldn't stop spinning from the weight in those bags. I learned pretty quick.

19. Did you have a clique? You could say that. I traveled in different circles, but I had my close circle by my senior year, for sure. We travelled in packs where ever we went. We were very close.

20. Where was your Senior Prom? The Landmark Theatre in Syracuse. It was historic. I picked the place myself - couldn't have asked for a better location. It should have been a sign of things to come.

21. Did you have a Max like "Saved by the Bell"? No, but my parents were always gone on the weekends to Delaware, so we hung at my house a lot. And I guess you could say that Happy Endings in the Armory was our Max - if we could get out there. I did a lot of lying to get out there. Nobody ever spends that much time in a library...

22. Admit it, were you popular? I don't know that I would ever characterize myself as popular. I certainly didn't hang out with the crowd I'd peg as the popular, in-fashion, perfect all the time kids. I just got along well with everyone for the most part. We were a crowd unto ourselves.

23. Who did you want to be just like? I was pretty content with me. No point in pretending to be someone I wasn't.

24. What did you want to be when you grew up? President. I'll admit it. Or just doing something that would make my kids proud. Helping people. I thought politics was where I'd end up. I was right on the money for the most part.

25. What was the color of your yearbook? For the most part, ours were green. Except for that year we had a blue one. Didn't understand that.

26. What were the colors of your school? Forest Green and White. Loved it.

27. What was your school mascot? The Hornet. It's an angry hornet if you look at it. GO HORNETS!

2005-11-25T19:36:00.000-05:00

NOT GREAT QUIZZO NEWS. AAAND PAT MORITA. SIGH. BUT LICKING THE DOORKNOB DOESN'T WORK WHEN YOU HAVE A CHECK IN HAND...

Had a great Thanksgiving, but that's neither here nor there. Really.

For everyone's information, we came in sixth in Quizzo even with the Kennedy Wild Card Round. It was a rather difficult Kennedy Wild Card - all assassination - and the last five questions weren't even about Kennedy. We did what we could. We didn't do too bad. We got some really hard ones in there. But what can you do? Looks like we'll just have to keep trying - even though I'm leaving the area.

Sad news that Pat Morita, aka Mr. Miyagi died today. I am very saddened by it.

But there has been lots of good news on the horizon. Had lots of good qualitiy time with family and my aunt who is leaving tomorrow to return to the Philippines. My mom, myself, and my aunt, have had a fantastic time lately.

But most importantly, I found that even if you lick the doorknob, that can't trump someone with a check in hand. I have been searching for apartments in Albany for a while. Though I actually only did leg work for two days. Anyway, after looking at more than a dozen, I walked into the last place and just knew. You know what I mean? Where you just know? You get the feeling? I got it. And pretty strong. I knew this was the apartment that I wanted. It was pricier than I had hoped, but you know, it was exactly what I wanted. Right size, right location, perfect building.

Apparently, some girl had already seen it before me and the guy gave her "dibs" on it. Mad Dog was like, "Did she lick the doorknob?"

Well standard shotgun rules will never apply in apartment hunting. This girl had her parents come up from Westchester to see the apartment. My guess is that mommy and daddy were kicking in.

Long story short, I got the apartment. Turns out Mommy and Daddy Westchester didn't want baby living in an "urban" area, so they wanted her to go with the "safer" suburbs. Which don't really apply in this case. So hahahahahaha, I get the apartment. Now I just have to do the whole "moving" thing and get the process going. Which is a whole other story for another time.

Hope you all had good Turkey days. Talk to you all soon when I have something remotely entertaining. Which might be soon. Who knows?

2005-11-16T01:58:00.000-05:00

SECOND PLACE AIN'T SO BAD SOMETIMES...

So my Philly Phabulous girls and I had a boffo time at Quizzo this week. Our team, "Alan Alda is my Friend's Cousin" came in SECOND PLACE waaay above Sofa Kingdom, the team that ALWAYS wins at Quizzo. We got a whopping $20 off our bar tab and an evening of pointing fingers and laughing at the members of Sofa Kingdom.

So give me a second to gloat. We only came in second by a measley 2 points, which we could have won if we had guessed South Dakota instead of West Virginia or Little Ricky Ricardo instead of Bobby Brady. Or had gotten the Edward Muskie question right and put 1972 instead of 1980. You get the drift.

But the winds are 'a changin' 'cause you ain't seen so many 's in one sentence. Seriously, though. I have a good feeling about next Tuesday. Could it be that it is November 22nd and Johnny promised us a Kennedy Wild Card Round if the assassination happened to fall on a Tuesday? Hells yes. And I reminded him, too.

So hang on to your hats, kids. We might have some good news next Tuesday.

Until then, I'm getting my Ikea furniture delivered tomorrow for my new apartment in Albany, which I will be searching for on Friday. New York City and Thursday. Buffalo and Niagara Falls on Saturday. Back to Albany on Sunday if necessary, but watch out, this Monkee may be coming to a town near you soon!

Hah! I've always wanted to say that.

Until then, be well, friends.

2005-11-15T12:13:00.000-05:00

WELCOME TO THE MONKEEHAUS' 100TH POST!

I actually can't believe it's only 100. I need to be better about this.

So I find myself cleaning and packing. And bored as all hell.

Yes, we won big in Buffalo. Something like 64% to 27%, which can basically be described as a blowout victory. In fact, all the Upstate Mayoralties are all Democrat. We won in Virginia, New Jersey, and defeated all of the Governator's ballot proposals in California. To say we didn't have a good night is understated. But we celebrated and now it's back to work. It's a long way to next November...

In the meantime, I am back in Delaware and attempting to clean, organize, and pack. And finding it difficult to do because after the campaign and being sick, all I did for three days was play tour guide with my family, one of whom was visiting from the Philippines. So now that I've fully caught up on sleep and rest, I'm turning towards the cleaning. Which I am not too happy to do.

In the meantime, I'm bored as hell down here. So bored that I have been studying for Quizzo tonight and found out that it's illegal to have sex with a porcupine in Florida. You heard it here. Which of course makes me wonder: "Why would anyone have to write this law down unless someone actually attempted to have sex with a porcupine in Florida?"

Chew on that one for a minute.

I also forgot to tell all of you that if you find yourself on a puddlehopper from Albany to Buffalo, your stewardess might also be the co-captain of the flight. Just FYI.

Right. I'm really off to clean and pack now. Sigh. Gotta get some work done. Off I go.

2005-11-05T23:12:00.000-05:00

IV's ARE FANTASTIC

So I started writing this post and then I lost it. So here's the short version.

I'm sick as a dog. Extremely sick. So sick that I was in the Emergency Room yesterday. Nothing to worry about. I was just desperate for medical attention. After spending an hour with every doctor in my network in Buffalo, no one could see me. So I called the insurance company who said to go to the ER. So to the ER I went.

After much waiting, they finally saw me. See, I was not only feverish, I was achy, I was sweating, I had the chills, I couldn't swallow, I was breathing shallow, and I felt like I was going to pass out. I knew I had white spots on the throat that doesn't go away with rest alone, needs medical attention, I hadn't eaten for over 24 hours, and I was starting to have trouble swallowing water because my throat and glands were so swollen.

Enough to warrant an ER visit, I feel. So did the doctors.

By the time they saw me, my blood pressure had dropped. My heartrate was accelerated. I was dehydrated. Any longer, they suspect I would have gone into septic shock - after at least another few hours, of course, but it's a good thing I went in, they said.

So they worked quickly. They stabalized my fever, gave me steroids to undo the swelling in my throat, they hooked me up to two ivs to replace my lost fluid and slow my heart rate. It also stabilized my blood pressure. I immediately started to feel better. The pressure on my head went far away. I was able to swallow again. In fact, my mother and I went to get food afterwards because I needed it. A good sign.

So in the meantime, I am resting. And with everyone at work telling me to get my strength back. It does me or the campaign no good to continue being sick. And I certainly wouldn't want to infect anyone. It's just nice because it's been so long since I've had a bacterial infection, I forgot antibiotics work. I've had viral infections every time I've been sick in the past five years or so that all I can do is rest. So it's nice knowing that I can be better with a few pills. Seriously.

Back to rest. And work from the hotel. I find that I'm catching up on a lot of things - there's only so much sleep one can take in a day. Especially me. In the meantime, I've added yet another new link to the left - Deviation by a brilliant mind - my friend and yours, the brilliant mindy. a beers. So take a look around. Check it out.

And take care of yourselves. And each other.

2005-11-02T21:37:00.000-05:00

THE HAPPIEST MONKEE...

Well, sort of.

My prayers (?) have been answered. I will be rather busy starting tomorrow morning. At least I might feel useful.

On the other hand, I'm in a lot of pain. My back has locked up in the past two days and movement of any kind is really quite painful. Sitting for a long time, standing for a long time - I just seem to be uncomfortable no matter what I try to do.

So I caved in. I called a local chiropractor, had him contact my chiro in Delaware, and went in for the adjustment. Different method, but nonetheless, useful. My back still hurts, but that's to be expected considering that I haven't had an adjustment in weeks. The whole "unwinding" thing that I don't feel like going into. But instead of the bear hugs that I get from my chiro, I had the "drop" method. Which is really interesting. You lie on your stomach onto a table where the waist down moves. The doctor pokes around on your back, lifts up that part of the table, presses on the vertebrae, and then the table drops, moving your back into the correct position. It's interesting. To say the least. But I can already tell my back is unlocked. Now it's just sore as hell and I need to be drinking lots of water because of all the moving around they did back there (all the negative juice the spine releases when adjusted). So I think I'm headed for the jacuzzi as soon as I post this.

But why am I a happy monkee? A few reasons.

1. I will be busy starting tomorrow. GOTV, here I come.

2. AFSCME has been working their little butts off over here. And it makes me happy knowing we're kicking ass and taking names.

3. I drove by two Frank Lloyd Wright houses here in Buffalo - might be the best I can do given my schedule. Maybe I can work in a tour. I'm hoping. But driving by was enough - jeebus, that man was a brilliant designer and architect.

4. And finally, RIGHTEOUS BABE RECORDS.

So yesterday I spent all day at the AFSCME office, which happens to be right 'round the corner from the Righteous Babe Records Headquarters - which I didn't know was there (Ani DiFranco's company - for those who don't know) - and across the street from the future home of Righteous Babe Records, the church the company saved from demolition (I did know this).

And as we were leaving to go to lunch, apparently, my car keys fell out of the hole in my old peajacket pocket. I'd mend the hole if I had some cloth and a needle and thread. I heart this old jacket.

Either way, my keys fell out. Neat.

It wasn't until I was done with lunch 15 minutes away did I realize my keys must have fallen out of the pocket. I had gotten a call over lunch that I ignored because I didn't recognize the number. Turns out someone had found my keys, called the Avis number, and Avis called me to give me the guy's information. So I called. Matt is the guy who had my keys and he told me to come over to 121 W. Tupper Street, right around the corner from the AFSCME office.

So I walk into the place. And suddenly, it becomes clear. I'm standing right in the entrance of Righteous Babe Records, a Mecca for any aspiring independent musician. And after I ask for Matt, I say, "So you guys are here, huh?" They were like, "Yes, yes we are." They were all really laid back and cool. And so then I take a look around and realize that all of the RBR products are on shelves, posters, promo materials are all over the walls. And I ask if I can buy RBR stuff there instead of online and they're like, "Hell yes, you can."

So being busy with AFSCME work yesterday, I told them I'd return to take a look around. So I returned today.

Spent a pretty penny, but I ended up chatting with the folks that worked there, getting to know them. I think we all thought each other was cool. So I tell them that I'll definitely be back for more when Matt asks me if I want some free stuff. Hell to the yes.

I ask them when they are moving into their new space. They were like, "How long are you in town?" I told them that I was only here for another week when Matt and the other chick (I never got her name) were like, "Well you have to definitely come back for the opening or after we open, we'll give you a grand tour of the space - the whole nine."

Who wants to go to Buffalo in January or February? I'm totally taking them up on this offer.

So not only did I spend a lot of money, but I walked away with loads of Ani promo material that's pretty damn cool. And for someone who's been listening to her since I was 15 (that would be eleven years and counting), this is a pretty damn cool day. And I made some pretty cool friends in the meantime. I think I'm going back there soon.

In the meantime, it's to the jacuzzi for me. Surreal.

2005-10-30T01:32:00.000-05:00

FRIENDS I HAVEN'T MET YET

First and foremost, congrats to my Philly girls for coming in at a close second last week at Quizzo. Well, actually, let me congratulate Jill, who is probably the only one from the team who reads this. Walshie, my girl, please be sure to keep me updated on the team names, I find them quite humorous. I don't know why it is that last month we sucked holy balls, but I'm still planning on trying to make Quizzo on the 22nd for the Kennedy round. Remind Jerome, er, Johnny, that he promised there would be a Kennedy round. We shall prevail.

Now onto Buffalo.

Surprisingly, my schedule hasn't been too crazy. For many different reasons, I feel like I haven't been doing much. But I know this will change on Monday when we turn our focus to GOTV and I can actually be a part of the planning process. So until then, I've been told to relax a little. So I shall. In my jacuzzi. When I'm not trying to figure out how I can be useful to this campaign.

I know this will change. I noticed right away the first day that I got here that it was strangely quiet in the campaign office. I hoped it was because everyone was out, knocking on doors, at phone banks. And I'm beginning to wonder. Because all the balls are up in the air, no one seems to know what's happening where or when, and today, I sat at the front desk answering phones while waiting for my canvassers to show up. A handful did. The good news is that we're on fourth or fifth rounds of canvasses and lit drops, so I guess it's not as bad as I think it is. I've been observing and sitting for three days and the guy I'm working with assured me that this is what it was like for him when he got there the week before me. But he's dealing with a death in the family, so he told me that I should see what's happening tomorrow, but assured me that not much would be happening since the Bills are playing tomorrow and nothing happens in Buffalo when football is on. So it looks like I have another day of rest before we get together, piss and moan about lack of communication, come up with our last week plan, and start implementing. I expect to be very busy soon.

But the most interesting thing so far are the random people I've met.

For starters, I forgot that people in Upstate New York have an accent. In Syracuse, it's more nasal. We have really flat vowels. Instead of "I spent time with my ah-nt yesterday" the phrase sounds like, "I spent time with my A-nt yesterday." You get the idea. "I broke the vah-ze" becomes "I broke the vAA-se." And sometimes it borders on Canuck.

West of 'Cuse, folks talk with a weird mix of Canadian and Midwest. Soda is pop out here and I swear at times that I'm in the middle of a Minnesota Toronto, or a Minneonto, if you will. Or even a Torosota. But either way, it's amusing. I just hope I don't pick it up. Because we all know I have a tendency to pick up on accents. Very quickly. But for now, I'm just amused every time I talk to someone here.

I've encountered two very interesting people here that really stick out in my mind.

First, we have Dancing Man. I've seen Dancing Man every day since I've been here - four times in one day, even. I suspect that Dancing Man is homeless or in a shelter as he travels around in the same outfit wielding a plastic bag filled with something every day. I don't like to judge, but that's what I think. Judging by his clothes that are dirty and ragged in places and that his face seems to gather more dirt each time I see him, I have to assume such a theory.

But the thing about Dancing Man is - you guessed it - he's always dancing. Doing ballroom dancing moves and twirling and even some ballerina in him. Yesterday, I saw him do a West Side Story move as he crossed the street. He is completely oblivious to onlookers and seems content to dance to the music in his head. Which, for some odd reason, comforts me. I find him to be not amusing, but somewhat uplifting. No matter where he goes, he's dancing. And this makes me happy. And I know I'll see him everyday, near the campaign office, and run into him at some point. He's like "Where's Waldo" for me every day.

Then there's Antonio. Or Tony. I don't really know.

Last night, I realized at around 8pm that I hadn't eaten all day. I think part of it is the trying to save money thing. Because while I have a jacuzzi in my room, I have no kitchen, no refrigerator, and no microwave. So I have to eat out. I have nary a choice. My hotel is located in a pretty good spot in downtown Buffalo where there's a great coffee shop across the street and bars and eateries all around. So I wandered outside for a spell and wanted something healthy, but I'm around bars and dives and things like that. So I went to Jim's Steak Out, which claims to have the best steak hogie in Buffalo.

But in Buffalo, like in Rome, do what the Buffalonians do. Yes, they're called Buffalonians out here.

So I got wings. Because yes, they do make them damn good out here. And yes, they are different here than other places.

But as I rolled up to Jimmy's, there was another guy in the place. He was all over the place and very clearly, a good-looking gay man. And we all know that I collect gay men like they were baseball cards or even Pogs. Yeah, pulled that one out of my ass.

So he's talking to the girl behind the counter, apparently they all know him there. And he's saying weird things, they're saying he's pretty drunk. And the girl behind the counter goes out back and he takes notice of my presence, still halfway through his conversation with the now dissapeared girl when he suddenly turns to me and was like, "Go ahead, slap my ass."

So i did. Because why not?

And so he introduces himself to me with a curtsy and a kiss on my hand as Antonio. And I realize his eyes are really scary. Because he has these light-almost-white blue contacts in. For Halloween, I assume. I hope. And then we start talking, conversation all over the place, him just flaming all over and me somewhat happy to have made a friend.

While we're waiting for my order, he reaches down to tie his shoe and declares, "Oh, fashion faux pax! I'm wearing white socks with brown shoes." And the girl behind the counter (who has returned) says in response, "You're not doing your community any good if you're dressing like that, aren't you guys supposed to have a superpower fashion sense?" And he commiserates over his faux pas when some girls walk in - you know the type, tube tops, low rider jeans so the whole world's their gynocolygist, and shiny, sparkly bags that looked like they were bejeweled. And he turns to me and says under his breath, "Talk about fashion faux pas." Then he proceeds to talk really loudly in a valley girl voice and we're laughing.

Meanwhile, he's still making me slap his ass. And then he returns the favor. All in good fun.

And the girl behind the counter is like, "You know him?" And I laugh and shake my head no and explain we just met. Then he comes up behind me and slaps my ass and turns around so I can do the same and she's like, "Oh, you know him?"

I was like, "We just had this conversation."

So after much more ass grabbing between the two of us, we go outside while we wait and he tells me more about him. And he keeps telling me I'm just adorable when his friends call and ask him where he is. He tells them he'll meet them down the street in a minute and explains that he met this cutie pie gorgeous girl and then hangs up and decides he's going to hang out with me a little longer. We chat, it's nice. Get to know each other a little bit. Then he takes me back into Jimmy's, I'm getting my food, he gives me a hug and a kiss and then leaves.

I expect I'll run into Tony again, but it was a strange, but nice little point of contact in what would otherwise be a no-contact day. It's strange to be on a campaign, sitting on my ass, feeling like I have nothing to do, sitting in a hotel room by myself - so I felt somewhat happy I ventured out. I don't know why, but it was funny and happy at the same time.

Who says you can't have fun in Buffalo? Even for a moment. At least it was something. If I find time, I'm going to stalk the Righteous Babe headquarters and see if I can get some good stuff before I leave. Hell, I'm in Buffalo. And I really want to check out the Frank Lloyd Wright houses at some point. Watch. I'll get really busy and I won't get a chance. Won't that just be a bitch?

Off to bed to enjoy the extra hour of sleep. Hope you're all doing well, faithful readers.

2005-10-28T03:41:00.000-04:00

HOOKED UP IN BUFFAFALO!!!

Okay. So I shuffled off to Buffalo yesterday and I have been running around this city like it was going out of style.

But I got hooked up here. HOOKED UP!
So Brian and I get to the Avis Rent-A-Car where the woman asks me if I'd like the convertible for my luxury car. I kind of do a double take. I squint back at her. I'm conflicted. I've been asked for the first time if I'd like the convertible. And I have to turn it down. Because no one in their right mind would chose the convertible in Buffalo in October-soon-to-be-November.

Of course it's going to be 60 degrees on Sunday. Neat.

So I'm like, "Great, I got the Malibu or the Pontiac."

Mad Dog still has it good with the 'Stang, but mama got a Pontiac Cruiser.

Yes. It's a strange as hell car. But considering my other rentals - the Grand AM, the Focus, the Impala, the random GM car that I can't ever remember the name of - I think it's an interesting choice. Hell, I could have had the convertible. Damnhellass.

But that's not all. So I had to change hotels - nothing big, just they couldn't get me at the one downtown, so I was at the Hampton at the airport. It was nice enough. The Hampton at the airport in Albany is suhweet.

But the Hampton Downtown Buffalo is AWESOME. I'm worried I'm not going to get a suite. I think I'm getting a single or worse, a double (two twin beds - what the hell am I going to do with that?).

Nah. I got the King Sized single with JACUZZI.

Mama's living large!

Of course, I'm at the office and meetings and running around all the time, so who can enjoy it?

It might have been 2:30 in the morning. I don't care if my neighbor is asleep. Mama got in the jacuzzi. It is niiice. I have a feeling I'm spending time in that thing for the next 13 days.

The campaign is interesting. I dunno what to think yet except that I'll be busy getting canvass stuff ready all day tomorrow for Saturday.

Oh, and one more thing. I'm an Ani DiFranco fan, right? Been listening to her for over 10 years, right?

The church she and Scott saved (as documented in "Render") is a block down the street from me. I could spit on the future of Righteous Babe Records - they're conserving and rebuilding the church into a concert and art center where RBR's office will be.

Dood.

I'm finding Buffalo to be exactly like the Ani song, "Subdivision", and I'm finding that I also love a lot of the cute little businesses around here. I heart the coffee shop across the street from the Starbucks where there are more folks in the coffee shop than in Starbucks (success!) and the row of restaurants and pubs around here. Me like. I have a feeling I'm stopping into that coffee shop every morning before heading into the office.

Oy. It's late. And I need to get up in a few hours. So hope you're all doing well.

And to my Philly Phabulous Girls: I really missed all of you Tuesday night - it felt so strange to be so far away. Hope you're kicking some Sofa Kingdom ass! Or at least someone's ass! And remember, when in doubt, Martina Navratilova.

2005-10-25T18:08:00.000-04:00

BACK IN UPSTATE NEW YORK, HAVE SOME CRAPPY WEATHER

So after running around A LOT in the past few days, I got on a plane this morning at 7:#0 to fly an hour and a half to Albany from Philly. Not too bad, unless you counter the fact that I got less than four hours sleep and I don't think I've had more than 5 or 6 hours sleep in the past SIX WEEKS.

So the weather all along the East Coast blows ass right now and I love hearing the pilot tell us he's going to land when I can't see a damn thing out the window. But I'm here, in one piece.

This hotel is SWEET. It's hooked up. And I'm only here one day.

So a day of "orientation" in Albany, which consisted of reading, meeting folks, and cleaning up the office - which, Boom-Boom, if you are reading this, I will be sending you a package in DC very soon.

I was hoping to maybe get a look around at some apartments tonight, but this weather has made me want to do nothing more than crawl into bed, read a craptastic magazine, watch some bad tv, and pass out for nine hours or more. So without further ado, I shall go to it.

I'll be sure to keep all of you updated since I'm leaving tomorrow morning to Shuffle off to Buffalo. Fun stories to come, I'm sure.

Whee!

2005-10-21T17:18:00.000-04:00

THE MOST ANNOYING QUIZZO EVER

This story goes out to my Philly Chicas.

I'm all about making new friends. One time, a lady on a plane asked if we knew each other because I looked very familiar. When I replied no, she answered, "Well, that's okay. I have friends I haven't met yet." Nice sentiment.

I'm saying this because last night, we decided to schedule a Quizzo night since I'm leaving for Albany on Tuesday (got the confirmation).

So by the time Jill and I got there after viewing Elizabethtown - much better than the critics have said it is - we found Megan and Christine at a table with two people we didn't know. Turns out there was no other available table and instead of leaving after dinner, these folks decided to stay and wanted to play Quizzo on our team. Okay.

So after yet another "_insert celebrity/sports figure/random person name_ is best friends with my second cousin!" team name, we settled in for a game of Thursday night Quizzo, hoping to better our below average placements as of late.

Let me stop here to explain the team names. We used to be "Honk if you Heart Butt-Sex," a name not so much vulgar as funny because it's related to a very funny story. But we weren't doing so good with the name. One of the times we came in 3rd, our name was "Please Hammer Don't Hurt 'Em." After more amusing names that bordered on embarrassing personal stories and running out of embarrassing moments to create the names, a few weeks ago, Jill blurted out, "My second cousin is best friends with George Clooney!" And finding this funny, we made it our team name. Needless to say, team names after have all been on this theme, including: "Babe Ruth is my second cousin!", "George Clooney dated my aunt!" (another Jill gem), "My second cousin won the chess championship in Atlana when he was twelve!", "Nancy Kerrigan is my best friend's second cousin!", and "The Olympic Bronze medalist for Ice Dancing is my second cousin!" You get the idea. I'm waiting for "I once stood behind Seth Green in line at a deli!" to come up.

Back to the story...

So these two people are very nice - one guy, one girl. We make friends. We go through the first round of Quizzo. The guy keeps giving us bad answers, though he was right about one of them. He's a very close talker. Very intense, you know, with the non-blinking eye contact. But he's harmless enough. And drunk. The girl, on the other hand, is sweet as can be and chatting up a storm with us. We're cool.

Now the entire time, the four of us are thinking these two are together. They have good body language, leaning in to chat, smiling at each other the whole time, you know. After a while, it becomes clear that the four of us are playing and the other two are watching with mild amusement, mostly wondering how we knew Bella Lugosi was the answer to one of the questions. The girl is really trying to be very helpful. The guy is drunk, blurting out wrong answers, and then decides to disappear for a while. Which is fine. We girls bond over the next two rounds of Quizzo.

I should mention that Christine has three packs of cigarettes in front of her and Megan and Jill were allowing these friends to bum cigarettes off of them. Very communal that way. We're nice people.

All of a sudden, some random chick who's very drunk comes over to Chris and asks to bum a cigarette. True believers in cigarette karma (as the above implies), she graciously offers one to the girl, who, intense herself, strikes up a conversation with Chris. It's polite and nice, you know, the kind when meeting new people. All of a sudden, out of nowhere, the guy comes back and he steps in to talk to the chick.

What we understand is that she's been playing Quizzo with some friends of hers at the bar. And we quickly turn our attention to the third round, kicking ass, I might add. So us five girls - me, Jill, Chris, Megan, and new girl friend are playing along while the dude and the random cigarette bummer (I'll call her CB) are talking. No big deal.

So we find out the girl and the guy live in the building together or go to school together or something like that. And she says after the third round that she has to leave soon because she's got class in the morning. She decides to stay for the last round, but decides afterwards to peace out. She tells us that she's happy she met us and would it be okay for her to come next Tuesday for Quizzo and the girls proceed to tell her it will be great, especially since I'm not going to be there, they'll be a person down anyway, blah blah blah. She leaves and we're happy to have met her.

As she does, she has to interrupt the guy and CB and tells him she's leaving, he hugs her, tells her he'll talk to her later and she leaves with the, "love you" line.

We're sort of confused.

Then again, I have some good guy friends who end conversations with me like that, too. So okay. We thought they were together. Now we find out they aren't. Fine. Whatever.

I should mention that at this point the way we were sitting. Here's a diagram - I'm procrastinating, okay? And a set designer. This is what I do.

Megan left after the third round. So Jill, Megan, and me found ourselves the sole players on the team remaining. In the meantime, CB and Dude move over to the table. Which is fine. Except that if you look carefully at the diagram above, we were pressed for space to begin with and we were in a small area.

So it ended up looking like this:

Now, this will come across as mean, but why not go back to her table? Hmm? Obviously they were in their own world. Except that this girl had the voice that reminded you of nails on a chalkboard. And she talked loud. And a lot. I've already mentioned he was a close talker.

You know where this is going.

So as we tried to listen to the last questions over her annoying voice and his loud drunk one, we found ourselves getting annoyed and frustrated.

And because of the way we were sitting, we couldn't engage in meaningful conversation.

The conversation stopped between the three of us as we couldn't help but listen to their conversation, passing notes to each other like we were in school, laughing at the situation and conveying all of this through our eyes and looks at each other. Over the course of a month, we've learned how to read each other's faces. And so we were kind of amused, but really really annoyed at the same time.

Wanna know what they were talking about? Well, she was going on and on about Ovid and how "beautiful" it is to be educated, what she learned at Columbia, how "beautiful" her education was, how she's fluent in French, how her father is an ophthalmologist and "likes eyeballs", her childhood, how fantastic ancient literature is.

And on and on.

And he was leaning in, touching her at times as he responded to her with, "I'm sorry, I've just never met anyone so passionate as you." Puhlease.

She kept going on about fine art, how "beautiful" it is, how she doesn't get modern art, and more things that made us want to poke our eyeballs out of our eye sockets with the pen and throw them across the table at them.

He tried to respond equally educated about his experience at Penn before she started going on about doing really well on the LSAT and how she got into law school and she just didn't know, there were so many "beautiful" things out there she was so into and not sure about going to law school.

By the way, this all takes place in the span of a half hour. I've never seen a pickup meeting go in so many different directions at once, mostly because she had verbal diarrhea.

During all of this, we were trying hard not to be obvious with our displeasure, but found it difficult to sustain any sort of conversation with this chick yammering on.

We instead focused on chugging our beers and getting the hell out of there.

Chris got up to go to the bathroom and the dude reached over to her cigarette box (she smartly put away the extras) and finding it empty, picked up Jill's pack and proceeded to give one to the chick and one for himself before taking her lighter to light them.

Um.

This was fine when he was actually talking to us. Now that he had spent the last two hours listening to her in hopes of bringing her home, we weren't feeling as gracious as we had before.

AND THEN she starts yammering about The Trojan Women and explaining to him the story. I'm slightly amused because this is all about sex. In The Trojan Women, to stop a war the women felt were unjust, they withhold sex from their husbands to earn world peace. In a nutshell. And she's going on and on about a woman's place and how the men make the decisions, so they are doomed to fail, blah blah blah. At which point, I started getting angry. But then she cuts off that thought by saying, "That Aristophanes was amusing. And a great read." He starts telling her how he's reading French literature from the 1800's, which she finds appalling, exclaiming how much she hates that literature. Now Jill and I have both taken TM's Ancient Greek and Roman Theatre class (or whatever it's called) and we're just highly amused at her critique of that amusing Aristophanes. BECAUSE EURIPIDES, NOT ARISTOPHANES, WROTE THE TROJAN WOMEN.

Now we're running for the door. The only thing we say to them as we leave is Chris asking for her jacket that the Dude has been sitting on for the last two hours. We leave without another word. We get to the door and once on the other side, start laughing and saying how annoying the last two hours were.

As I drive away, I see the dude walking with her, taking her home. I call Chris and Jill. And we laugh and say, "well, that was the most ridiculous pickup I've ever seen. And we saw it all."

That, my friends, was the most annoying Quizzo we've ever sat through. From here on out, we're just going to have to get there at 9:30 to get our own table. Never again.

Oh, and by the way, this guy is still a douchebag. And is it just me, or does he look like Sloth from The Goonies?

I fucking hate Tom DeLay. I rarely use that kind of profanity on this blog, but the Christ, I can't stand him.

Right. Off to finish up this work.

2005-10-20T02:05:00.000-04:00

Yes, I have been extremely wayward in my blogging duties.

For the few of you who actually read this, I have decided to forego my blogging of the trip to the Brown land. Why? Because the next few days are extremely depressing posts detailing my fathers funeral and for now I'd like to stay out of therapy and subject all of you to it - no "Read my pain!" blogs right now. I know I will need some sort of therapy somewhere down the road for all the shitstorms I've faced in my life, but I have to remember that few of you are licensed therapists and after the trauma of the past few months, I need to pay all of you and my incredible support group and frankly, I don't have that kind of dough. Besides, I need something to talk to my future therapist about.

So some of you might actually say, "But why, Monkee, I've been very interested in your stories from the homeland?!" And I will answer, yes, someday I will scribe stories about the Philippines that will make you laugh and cry. But not today.

Things have been very hectic for me out here in the past few weeks. But there's big news: I HAVE A NEW JOB. Effective sometime they unclog the papers from the hopper in AFSCME Land. Those AFSCME employees who read this know what I mean. Basically, my old boss got a new job in DC and they needed someone to replace her. And I was the lucky one. So I expect in the next few days to be shuffled off to Buffalo (I've always wanted to say that, sort of) to work on the Mayor's race.

Right. I didn't actually tell you what I was going to be doing.

Basically, I'm moving to Albany. I'm still with AFSCME and this is a great position for a New Yorker like myself. I'll still be working on campaigns and doing the talking with legislators thing, except I get a fancy new title, pay raise, a hell of a lot more stability, a home base, and traveling mostly around my home state and the state I love the best (Maryland is a close second). So I'm excited for the new opportunity and to get back to the place I know very well and keep fighting the man.

Speaking of...

I've been busy because last week was a big week of activity for us left-of-center kids. So in usual Keeza fashion, I'm reclaiming my soapbox. I promise it won't be long. Too long, anyway.

See, with Katrina hitting the Gulf Coast and finally some honest discussion about the differences in economics (i.e. Poor People in this country who were left to fend for themselves during one of the worst hurricanes in history), we at AFSCME and other like-minded groups are rallying around the country to push the House and Senate to stop their assault on low-income and hard-working families with further budget cuts to essential programs such as food stamps and Medicaid and fighting against the $70 million in tax cuts to the wealthiest 2% of Americans.

Hi, I've been speechwriting for a week. Can you tell?

So we planned big "Speak-Out" events in targeted states across the country and AFSCME found members in Louisiana affected by the storm and these Katrina survivors agreed to travel across the country to tell their stories. It was amazing.

So we had this awesome survivor up in Delaware for a week - we had the luxury of spending lots of time with Michele. And finding her a wonderful and positive person, we felt okay to ask her some questions about Katrina and what happened, etc.
I found my Coro interview skills well at hand spending time with her. I found out some really important information about what actually happened on the ground out there. And it's the story we aren't hearing.

Before I actually get up on the soapbox to shake my fist at the Administration and Republican Leadership, I'm saving that for the next post. Let's just say that after last week and finding some free time on my hands ironing my laundry from two months, I've been watching a lot of Bill Maher.

Instead, I choose to impart this knowledge from Michele directly to you and then next post, I'll get into the usual ranting and raving. Mmmmkay?

So we took Michele to lunch and as usual, got on the topic of politics and the right. This was where we started asking the good questions. Here's what she told us:

1. Yes, the Administration and FEMA are definitely at fault. But the folks in Louisiana who were there will also give lots of criticism to the Mayor and the Governor. There's plenty of blame to go around. The folks in "power" in New Orleans made bad decisions and the President was too busy clearing bush on his ranch to be bothered. They all know this and they will be the first to say that blame starts with the Mayor of New Orleans, the Governor of Louisiana, the President of the United States, and FEMA. There's no other way to look at it. No blame can be assigned to one party or the other. Tragedies of this kind are usually the fault of many people failing to react in the proper ways.

2. Many people who stuck around New Orleans weren't just too lazy or too poor to get out of town. Many of them had reasons for staying, amongst them: family members in the hospital, entire lives wrapped around their homes, and the obvious: by the time they realized how bad it was going to be, it was too late. And here's where it becomes the problem of economic divide - people didn't have the means to get out quick enough before it hit. Nor were the resources available for them to leave.

3. The Mayor and Governor decided not to use all the school buses at their advantage. By the time the storm hit, the buses were under several feet of water and couldn't get out. So all those people who might have had a chance were never given a choice.

4. The day after Katrina hit and the levees broke, the water was rising rapidly - something we have all heard. But by this time, Army trucks had already started going around. At the point Michele saw them, she was up to her chest in water (and she's tall) and her and her husband were on top of their SUV, calling out to the folks in the trucks to come and help them. And get this: their answer was, "Sorry, we're not allowed to do that."

I'll just let that one sit for a minute.

5. The helicopters were only rescuing folks one at a time, unlike what their actual capacities can handle, which is drop a net and get several people to safety quickly. Why? No one really knows or understands, but the process was extremely slow and could have been much quicker (this is information we probably all know, but hearing it from someone on the ground confirms it).

I'm trying to remember all of the stuff, but here's the most fascinating and in my mind, egregious one:

6. Think this whole "poor" discussion about Katrina is bull? When the Army Corps was deciding which levees to blow up to alleviate the problem of the rising water and to let the water out, they made an interesting choice. Now many of us were relieved to hear that the French Quarter was not badly damaged. BECAUSE THEY MADE A CONSCIOUS DECISION, NOT BECAUSE IT IS ON HIGHER GROUND. Instead of blowing the levee above the French Quarter to help drain the water, they opted for the levee below it. The problem is the levee below it was keeping a lot of water out of East New Orleans, known as a very poor part of town. They made the decision to blow the lower levee, causing the water to flow out and further damage the area of town where they knew a majority of folks who didn't get out of town were. So in case you're unsure: INSTEAD OF SACRIFICING THE FRENCH QUARTER TO FURTHER DAMAGE AND PROBABLY SAVE MORE LIVES AND POSSIBLY PROPERTY, THEY DECIDED TO INSTEAD FURTHER DAMAGE THE FOLKS HARDEST HIT BY THE STORM AND LET THEM FEND FOR THEMSELVES.

I am not making any of this up. I know that the situation down there was dire and terrible, but looking at the decision-making process, one has to start asking some serious questions. Because I promise you, if this was Beverly Hills, or an affluent suburb of Michigan, I seriously doubt these decisions would be different. The difference would be that those folks who had the money would have been gone and they would have saved Rodeo Drive and wiped out Compton instead. I realize they're not in the same area, but you know what I mean.

It's like when they were cutting the budget in New York after 9/11 and got rid of the twice a week garbage pick ups in parts of Manhattan. Where did they cut the trash pickup from two to one first? Spanish Harlem, Washington Heights, and parts of Harlem, USA. Basically anywhere the minorities and poorer New Yorkers live in neighborhoods. I asked then if such decision making was right and I ask again now.

And with the President and leading Republicans so good at the spin game, pointing the fingers and moving the discussion from poverty to "rebuilding" and "economic development" is it not hard to see what their plans are actually going to do? If the President has his way and creates these "economic zones" and "development zones" in rebuilt New Orleans, what happens to the 9th Ward (the Democratic stronghold in a mostly lower-income area)? What happens to the people who have had land in New Orleans from the sharecropping days handed down to them by generations of family who are technically just above the poverty line (a line they keep moving down to empirically state that poverty is on the decline)? They won't be able to afford "rebuilt New Orleans" at all, will they? And where do they go?

Katrina offers us a chance to make things better and to fix the problems. It shed light on the most stubborn residues of racism - economic inequality. And because of the turn in discussion, it was the shortest attention to poverty in this crazy 24-hour news cycle. I know it's depressing to talk about such things, but it is our biggest chance in decades to have an honest discussion about it.

And it shames me to know that it's already slipped many of our minds. Because we all know too well what happens when our attention moves from an honest discussion about poverty to Tomkitten.

I think it's up to all of us who really want change next year to fight to keep it in the forefront. We've got another storm approaching soon and can we please finally talk again about Global Warming? The President and the Republican leadership are finally getting slammed. When Ann Coulter (who is a man) and Andrew Sullivan say they can't trust the president again, we gotta push the issue. And we need to find the right voices to do it - I'm not afraid to pick fights with my own party here, either.

It's time to step to the plate, friends. And not let them forget it.

Oh. And Tom Cruise is gay, anyway. This whole Tomkitten thing was said best by SF this evening: "Either Katie Holmes is about to have an alien anti-christ child or it's gonna come out looking like Chris Klein because she's just Tom's beard." 'Nuff said. Let's get it off the front page now. And get back to the things that really matter.

Back soon to get on the soapbox, I'm just getting started.

That wasn't so long, was it?

Take care of yourselves. And each other.

2005-10-03T16:31:00.000-04:00

I know I said I'd blog every day. But after such lengthy posts, I decided that my loyal readers needed some time to digest my posts. So I decided to wait for a little before continuing my stories from the Land of Brown.

That and my dsl line at home is down until tomorrow when the technician will come and fix it sometime between 12 and 4pm. Yeah. My ass. Chances are, they'll show up at 4:30. Neat.

I would like to take a quick second to display my joy and affection for my Bronx Bombers - all of those "Yankee Fans" who told me they sucked all year and that they wouldn't survive to the post-season can kiss it. I had no doubts. My boys play in October. Few things are more certain than that. In the meantime, I know I can at least enjoy another week of Yankee watching, one of my favorite pasttimes in the world.

Now. Lest I forget that I have a mission here, I shall regale you will more stories from the Philippines. Before I do, instead of posting one picture or several at a time, click on the link below to see pics of my homeland. You can also find these pics on a lick on the right.

PICTURES FROM THE PHILIPPINES

Without further ado:

SEPTEMBER 12, 2005 (US, MONDAY)
LOCATION: MANILA TRAFFIC
TIME: 1150 AM, MANILA; 11:50 PM, NEW YORK (SEPTEMBER 11)

I forgot about the traffic. But we've already covered this.

Today my mother, my uncle, my aunt, and I (and some other assorted random family members) have to go to the cemetary to make all of the arrangements.

As we drive along, I take stock of my surroundings.

Besides the traffic, I have forgotten about the poverty here. (Check the pictures link to see what I mean)

Well, I should be honest. It's difficult to forget. From the time I was three, the faces and eyes of countless Filipino men, women, and children have remained in my memory as they begged me on street corners, staring into our stopped car, staring at us with hands outstretched.

Driving along the way, I am struck by the shabby, corrugated cardboard, tin, and wood scraps making up the walls of shacks. Spaces are left between them for windows, stacked one on top of the others, clothes hung out to dry from wire between the windows, families sitting on top of their shacks on what looks to be a very thin tin.

I started thinking about my uncle's house that I was staying at. How big, how modern, how beautiful. And I'm seeing these people, living in filth, amongst rats and dire poverty. And I start to feel helpless.

I can't help but remember a thought I had when I was eight and I visited: "This is the face of poverty. So many of my friends would never believe this exists." I'm looking at the same sight - sitting smack across the street from mansions and businesses that have grown around them. Manila is easily the ugliest city in the Philippines - and because they haven't planned the city as nicely as they could have. I remember thinking then the same thing I'm thinking now: "There are people who live like this in the U.S. But so many Americans don't know. This is what we as a people are missing - the forgotten people who are forced to live like this." I don't feel any better.

They say things in the Philippines won't change for at least 20 years. Besides new buildings, I've noticed it has been the same since I remember coming.

Here, the rich get richer, the poor live in shacks but have cards and pirated flat-screens. The government is corrupt and there hasn't been anything really new since Marcos was in power. I see my homeland suffering from these consequences and the mindset and I am even more upset.

I can start to make comparisons now, but I'll wait until I return to the states and digest all of this first.

I can sum all of this up by saying and asking: The country of my family must rise anew before anything changes. And the country of my birth also needs to wake up. It seems that everyone has much work to do. But who will be the ones brave enough to take on that task? Where have all the leaders gone?

2005-09-27T14:28:00.000-04:00

Welcome to my blog if you're just joining us from other sites in your surfing. Or boredom. I care not which.

I have added a new link to the list on the right - shot out to the Colonel.

In the meantime, I shall continue blogging my experiences from the Philippines. If you didn't already know, the post previous to this one is the plane ride from Philly to Manila in all it's glory. I shall continue where I left off. I promise you, this stuff is worth reading if you don't know what to do with yourself for a small period of time.

DATE: SEPTEMBER 11, 2005 (US, SUNDAY)
LOCATION: UNCLE JUN'S HOUSE, CORINTHIAN HILLS, MANILA, PHILIPPINES
TIME: 725 AM, MANILA (SEPT. 12); 725 PM, NEW YORK (SEPT. 11)

I am sort of confused about what day it is since I'm 12 hours ahead of the states, so I'm trying to keep it all straight in my head.

I am fully aware of what day it is in New York City, however. Trust me, this observation did not sit lightly with me. But in the midst of other emotional priorities, it got stirred up in the mix.

Yesterday, I was awoken by two children bounding into my room loudly.

After being jumped on, bounced upon, they proceeded to pepper me with questions such as: "Do you know how to play chess? Checkers? Scrabble?"

At which point, my 8 year old cousin left the room only to return and plop the games down on my bed. She then declared I was "so big" and then proceeded to house me in a game of checkers where she broke all the rules and I took no time at all pointing that out to her.

I should take a moment to explain something. Here, in the Philippines, if you aren't a stick, you are big. Now I realize that under normal circumstances, I could easily spend a week living off the fat of the land. But here, more than in the US, it's about appearance - if you can fathom such a thing being true. But it really is. Body type is all they talk about here, us Filipinos are supposed to be small-boned, slight, and with long hair - all attributes that fall a few yards by me. So it's something you come to expect. I literally could step off the plane at 100 lbs and they'd be like, "Did you put on weight?" And honestly, this really doesn't bother me in the least, I don't give a rat's ass. But since my little cousin thought it would be fun to keep harping on the fact, I am doing my best to preserve my intent by telling you the story as-is.

Right.

Back at the ranch...

I have been wanting to play Scrabble for months since I played at the Astoria Beer Garden the last time I was in NYC for Coro's New York at Nite - and yes, we went to a beer garden and played Scrabble, what's your point?

But I more than made up for it. I played seven games or something like that today. By the second one, I was tired. By the seventh, I was silly stupid.

And bypassing the fact that my cousin cheats, which I let her do until the fourth game where it became rather wearing, I won all the other games. Yes, she's eight. No, she doesn't speak English fluently. But tell me what you would do when your seven letters are: "Y", "I", "O", "I", "O", "A", and "E"? It sucks when all you get are vowels or consonants.

I'm pretty tired from jet-lag and Scrabble. Bed looks good right about now...

Cheers,
Keeza

2005-09-26T16:24:00.000-04:00

I have finally returned from the motherland. And I found myself in an interesting position as I seemed to have contracted a stomach virus.

Not neat.

I was in the hosptial for a few hours to get rehydrated and now I'm finally feeling better three days later.

But that's neither here nor there.

I had hoped to blog every day of my trip. I kept a journal. One of those nice moleskin ones (thanks for the advice, Mad Dog).

But the internet isn't so great on that side of the pond. So in all it's glory, here is my journal from the past two weeks. I will post every day until I finish my travel log. Then it will be back to the regularly scheduled program. Trust me, there's just too much fodder for me not to blog this. So without further ado...

TRAVEL DAY: SEPTEMBER 9, 2005 (US)
LOCATION: SOMEWHERE OVER CANADA. LAKE SUPERIOR?
TIME: 545 AM, JAPAN; 445 PM, NEW YORK

I forget how much I enjoy travel, regardless of the circumstances under which I travel. At this point, after such a difficult month, I have decided that I should take my amusement when it comes and make no apologies for it. I figure that the least I can do is be fully aware in all moments - good, bad, funny, annoying. Hell, that's life after all.

Take, for instance, my utter amusement and delight at discovering that beer and wine on international flights, unlike domestic ones, are free of charge.

Here I sit, feet propped up on the empty seat between my mother and I - turned sideways for maximum comfort - with a Miller Lite in my hand, ice cold, and at 6am Philippines/Japan time.

My mother is actually the one who supplied me with the free drink information after an entire morning of my cousin, Ailieen, and I joking about needing a drink, but that it was probably too early in the morning to start.

I'm not going to lie to you. We weren't joking. At least I know I've been dreaming of an ice cold beer since last week. Aileen has been saying we need a drink after the two weeks that we've had.

After my joy of realizing that the drinks were, indeed, free, I caught my mother's eye for a split second. A fleeting thought entered my mind: "Does she think I'm an alcoholic?"

My answer comes quickly from a different part of my mind: "You deserve it, it's free, and besides, when in Rome..."

Then I quickly wonder if this is the part of my brain that gets me in trouble.

Before I can contemplate ways to isolate this particular region of my cerebrum, I am snapped back to reality by the feeling of extreme clausterphobia as I get clocked in the head by the reclining seat directly in front of me.

I swear to god, if she could recline any further, she'd have her head in my lap. And you know why I wouldn't mind for a quick second? Because it's the perfect angle to punch her in the neck.

Well, not really. That's really rather violent of me, isn't it?

I should mention at this point that I am only on my second hour of this leg of the trip. And it's 19 hours long. And if I'm taking stock, I've had one beer, a dinner of chicken, shrimp salad, a roll, beans, and a brownie - nothing to write home about, by the way, and I've already been clocked in the head. I'm halfway through the David Sedaris book I started this morning and I'm afraid that taking out the tarot cards will offend the delicate sensibilites of the majority of Asians that make up this plane's demographic.

And I have another 17 hours to go. I wonder if my mom would worry if I ordered another beer - oh wait, this isn't a boring baseball game where I can drink the innings faster. Dammit.

On the other hand, there's that region of my brain again...

Ow.

Bitchslapped by the seat again. That's it, I'm walking around. Craptasm!

TRAVEL DAY: STILL SEPTEMBER 9, 2005 (US, FRIDAY)
LOCATION: SOMEWHERE OVER SOME PROVINCE IN CANADA
TIME: 650 AM, JAPAN; 550 PM, NEW YORK

Okay. I'm wondering what part of Canada I'm currently over when I was struck by a thought:

I'm not the only one who giggles when I hear Saskatchewan, am I?

Or even better: Manitoba!

Hee hee!

Okay. Seriously. Stop looking at me like that. I've been on a plane for forever.

Fine. I'm walking around again.

TRAVEL DAY: SEPTEMBER 10, 2005 (US, SATURDAY)
LOCATION: I HAVE ABSOLUTELY NO IDEA. SOMEWHERE NEAR JAPAN?
TIME: 520 PM, JAPAN; 420 AM, NEW YORK

I love how they try to simulate "morning" on a plane. They turn the lights on full - forcing people to open their eyes and squint as the stewardess asks: "eggs or rice?"

Assuming I'm close to Asia, I opt for the rice.

I, however, have mostly been awake. They turned off the lights not long after I last wrote.

I seem to think it's been daylight outside the windows since we left Detroit. Seriously. One guy close to me has had his flap up and it's been light the whole time. That's unnatural, right? Makes me wonder if we're just circling around.

At some point since my last writing, they've shown four movies, including "Monster In-Law" which isn't even listed as one of our available movies. I'm hoping they follow suite with "Mr. and Mrs. Smith" - we're not supposed to have that, either.

Of course, my viewing pleasure would be better enhanced if there wasn't an abnormally tall Asian man with spiky hair blocking 40% of the screen. I tried moving my head slightly, but have you ever seen someone start to fall asleep? Their head rolls around like a bladder on a stick, as Eddie from Ab Fab would say. This man falls asleep like this - but only when there's a movie on. I got neck cramps from moving my head around so much. As I write now, there's no movie on, so his head is still. Craptasm.

By the way, I assume breakfast tastes better without the headrest in front of you included. This woman has been sleeping since we took off. She'll be pretty jetlagged once we hit Nagoya.

Boy, I really got lucky with the passengers in front of me. I'm putting money down that after we refuel in Nagoya, my experience will be better for the final leg of this journey.

I've given up trying to figure out how much longer we have. At some point hours ago, it was useless. It became unfathomable for me to comprehend the time I've spent on this plane. It's like someone claiming that they have a gazillion dollars and daring you to count it all. What's the point? I know my ass will be here for a while - I'd rather not count down the hours because after two, it's like watching paint dry.

I'm forcing myself to stay awake now for at least the next 60-70% of the the remainder of this trip. I probably already had a decent night's sleep - at least 5 hours. But it seems that I've been awake longer than anyone in this section. I know I was awake hours before they were. It doesn't surprise me, really, since I barely get sleep when I'm actually on land.

Night owl that I am, maybe this will be good for me. Normal hours for me instead of jetlagged. Murphy's law would reverse this. Chances are...

In the meantime, some reading while waiting for an available bathroom seems to be in order. Honestly, can we get another bathroom for the 19 hour flight? I've been waiting for hours...

TRAVEL DAY: STILL SEPTEMBER 10, 2005 (US, SATURDAY)
LOCATION: NAGOYA, JAPAN
TIME: 750 PM, JAPAN; 650 AM, NEW YORK

I heart Japan. I need to leave the airport first before I can declare that, I know. But hell, it's true. Judging by this airport, I know I'd love it.

Mai's right: everything here is cute and strangely disturbing at the same time. Like the hand dryers in the bathroom. Fantastic. I can't even describe it except to say that instead of the dryer being above your hands, it's like a cutout. You put your hands in it and it dries both sides of your hands with a powerful gust of warm air. That's the stuff. I was more disturbed by the sight attached to it that read: "Feel funny on the airplane? Nausea, headache, fever, chills, aches? Go to the Health Counsel's office NOW!"

I'm wondering how seriously people take that. I started thinking about whether or not I felt any of it on the plane. I started getting worried that I had. Then I started getting worried I hadn't.

Then I remembered that I'm not a hypochondriac.

I picked up a state-of-the-art digital camera that's more advanced than the ones we have here and cost just shy of $400. I figure it's not too bad. Then again, my mother bought it, but whatever. I'm excited. I also picked up something that said vitamin juice and "coffee shot" which promises to keep me up all day or something. Both for 220 Yen or basically just under $2 - when I pay $6 for a Starbucks tall. Sigh.

Everything here is also orderly and clean which seems exactly the kind of an environment an anal-retentive monkey like myself would feel at home in.

Oooh. Time to board the plane. More later.

P.S. I mention the camera because soon this trip will resemble the widely unfamous "Tales from the Trail" blog I started last year during the Presidential race - meaning you'll get a picture or more on the posts. Something to look forward too?

TRAVEL DAY: STILL SEPTEMBER 10, 2005 (US, SATURDAY)
LOCATION: SOMEWHERE BETWEEN JAPAN AND MANILA
TIME: 815 PM, JAPAN; 715 AM, NEW YORK

My mother just turned to me to ask me who keeps farting.

I just woke up from sleep. I don't know. Nor can I smell passed gas.

She crinkles her nose into a sour puss face.

"Well someone has been farting since we took off, I can smell it."

Knowing her sense of smell, I don't doubt it. Confident that it's not me, I go back to sleep.

TRAVEL DAY: STILL SEPTEMBER 10, 2005 (US, SATURDAY)
LOCATION: ABOUT TO LAND IN MANILA, PHILIPPINES
TIME: 1030 PM, MANILA; 1030 AM, NEW YORK

I cannot decide whether or not I like the map shown on the screen to indicate where we are, where we have traveled thus far, and how close we are to our destination.

Partly because like I said earlier, after 19 hours, the plane doesn't look like it's moving on the map at all. It is like watching paint dry.

On the other hand, it is nice to see how close we are to Manila. Yet, I can't decide if I like knowing that in times of turbulence (and we've had them) that I have a choice between landing on what looks to be a mountain range or somewhere in the sea. Morbid thoughts, I know, but honestly, after that past month, these thoughts come. At least it gives me time to figure out whether to reach above for the masks that will fall or my seat cushion that will act as a floatation device in cases of emergency. Preparation is key.

Oh, we solved the mystery. The man in the seat in front of me is the flatulator. Thank god my sinuses are acting up.

But not that bad. He stood up to stretch and I almost passed out.

My mother and I laughed.

TRAVEL DAY: SEPTEMBER 11, 2005 (US, SUNDAY)
LOCATION: UNCLE JUN'S HOUSE AT CORINTHIAN HILLS, MANILA, PHILIPPINES
TIME: 330 AM, MANILA; 330 PM, NEW YORK (SEPTEMBER 10)

Wide awake. La la la. I feared this.

Ninoy Aquino Airport only seems to have one bathroom. And it's not by any gate. You have to go through customs first, wait in the long line, then walk another football field length to get to baggage claim before you finally can use the bathroom. Neat.

So we got in hours ago after our arrival. As soon as we stepped outside, I started sweating. Just a sign of things to come.

I will also now mention the legendary traffic in Manila. Imagine the bottleneck going into the Holland Tunnel during rush hour. The LIE on a weekend in the summer. The Chesapeake Bay Bridge going to Ocean City in July. Boston when they started the Big Dig. DC jammed with lots of tourists not knowing where to go. Los Angeles traffic during... well, at anytime. But with road closings.

Have that awful scene in your head?

Now throw them all together, take out sensical rules of the road, seatbelt laws, and lane markers. Now you have Manila traffic. See a space? Go with it. See a red light? Run it. See that guy in front of you as you exit a parking lot? He'll move. Jesus, I forgot I have a heart attack everytime I get into a car here.

And it wasn't even busy on the roads when we left. Oy.

But this time, I think I have the cajones to try my hand at driving here.

Well, at least outside of Manila. In my mother's province. Where road traffic is limited to motorcycle tricycles, kids on bikes, chickens, and goats.

The smell of Manila is distinct. The air is heavier. And hotter. And the minute you step outside, you know you're home.

My uncle's brand-new house is absolutely gorgeous. It's huge. It has big-planked wood floors, marble on the first floor, state-of-the-art bathrooms (I should remind myself to tell you about bathrooms in the Philippines in general in a later post), and air conditioning. And I'm extremely happy about that.

But I will attempt some sleep now. I'm starting to get tired. More adventures tomorrow.

Cheers.

2005-09-21T22:41:00.000-04:00

Hello all,

As promised, I am sitting in an internet cafe. Of course, internet service ain't as good here as on our side of the pond. So when I get back, I shall regale you with stories of my time from the land of the brown.

Until then, wait. I'll be coming at you from a 21 hour plane ride home soon.

Cheers,
Keeza

2005-09-09T15:04:00.000-04:00

I find myself in Detroit at the moment. Sitting in an internet cafe in the airport, wearing very comfortable clothes as I try to eat what I would consider the last solid meal I might have in the next 19 hours.

I doubt there are many people out there who continue to read this since I've failed at posting thus far. But I know that there are a few of you who still faithfully click on my blog when you are bored, so for the few and the brave, I shall endeavor to continue.

I plan on blogging a lot in the next two weeks. I'll wager that almost all of you who read this know that my father passed away on Sunday - something I'm not quite sure that I will get around to writing about anytime soon, but I know it'll have to come out. It's been a long and strange month and it's hard to tell which way is up most of the time.

So here I am, at the airport, awaiting the 19 hour leg between Detroit and Manila. Bringing my dad home is bittersweet and it's hard to believe it's been almost eight years since I've been home. I'm eager to go, yet dreading the eventual emotional storm I fear I will have to weather. But that's life. And the best we can do is go on.

In the meantime, I'm keeping my sense of humor intact. It seems to be the only thing saving me besides the amazing support system of friends that have sustained me this past month. So expect the usual Keeza wit. I'm already thinking of my next post. Airports are great fodder for blogs.

Stay tuned, I'll be back soon. In the meantime, mama's gotta eat some good food before I sit on a plane for almost a day.

Best,
Keez

2005-09-01T11:49:00.000-04:00

So I know it's been awhile, but my life has been upended with all the family stuff I'm dealing with. Long story short, my dad is still in the hospital and not doing well, we've had family in from all corners - California and Canada, and besides work and the Philly Fringe, I've been pretty exhausted and finally starting to feel the mental, emotional, and physical fatigue. But we take one day at a time and that's how you survive.

In the meantime, I've found that my problems pale in comparison to what's happening in the Gulf states. And knowing how political I am, I will refrain from my usual soap box rants about the President flying by in a helicopter - hey, at least it only took him two days to get there, that's an improvement from 9/11...

But I'll let this speak for itself. Rather fascinating, no? It's about time the country started to wake up.

Editor and Publisher notes that, "On June 8, 2004, Walter Maestri, emergency management chief for Jefferson Parish, Louisiana; told the Times-Picayune: 'It appears that the money has been moved in the president's budget to handle homeland security and the war in Iraq, and I suppose that's the price we pay. Nobody locally is happy that the levees can't be finished, and we are doing everything we can to make the case that this is a security issue for us.'

2005-08-10T13:36:00.000-04:00

It's my birthday so I don't really feel like updating you fully yet. It's been an interesting week and I've discovered how truly wonderful all of my friends are for their support, encouragement, and friendship. Thanks to everyone who has sent best wishes and birthday greetings - you are all wonderful and put a smile on my face!

In the meantime, enjoy this.

Megan had this on her blog a little while ago and I’ve been meaning to do it. Just haven’t gotten around to it yet. So enjoy.

My iTunes Library

How many total songs? 951 songs, 2.5 days, 4.65 GB

Top Most Played Song: It’s actually a tie between two songs I am in the process of writing for the musical mindy. And I are working on – “Expert 1” and “Workshop and Opening Act I” (21 times). Yes, I actually wrote the songs.

Sort by...

Title
First: “And I’ll Never Be Sorry” – another song from the musical I’m writing.
Last: “Your Winter” – Sister Hazel

Time
First: “Towlie” – South Park clip (0:01)
Last: “Rhapsody in Blue” – George Gershwin (16:11)

Artist
First: “Changes vs. Man in the Mirror” – 2Pac – I don’t know that this counts, but it’s what comes up
Last: “Super Mario Medley” – Zaperman (or something like that – this one is really random)

Find "sex", how many songs show up? 6
You Sexy Thing – Barry White
I Wanna Sex You Up – Color Me Badd
Sexual Healing – Marvin Gaye
Sex and Candy – Marcy Playground
Sexual Healing Remix – Shaggy
I’m Too Sexy – The South Park version - pretty funny.

Find "death", how many songs show up? 0

Find "love", how many songs show up? 46 – Oh the Christ – here goes:
Never My Love – Association
Where is the Love (ice remix) – Black Eyed Peas
Where is the Love – Black Eyed Peas
I’ll Make Love to You – Boyz II Men
All for Love – Bryan Adams, Sting, Rod Stewart
Love You Madly – Cake
After All (Love theme from “Chances Are”) – Cher and Peter Cetera
Glory of Love – Peter Cetera
Loves Embrace – Christina Aguilera
I Love Paris – Cole Porter
Friday’s I’m in Love – The Cure
50 Ways to Leave Your Lover – Dave Matthews cover
Baby Love – Diana Ross & the Supremes
Love Potion Number 9 – The Drifters
You Don’t Have to Say You Love Me – Dusty Springfield
Your Song – Elton John (it’s under Love Songs Album or something)
Love Will (Turn Back the Hand) – Grease 2 Soundtrack
Rich Girl – Gwen Stafani (Love.Angel.Music CD)
The Origin of Love – Hedwig and the Angry Inch Soundtrack
Saving All My Love (Live) – Idina Menzel
Mr. Lover – Janet Jackson
Blowin Me Up With Her Love – JC Chasez
I Honestly Love You – Lea Salonga
Working for the Weekend – Loverboy (ha!)
This Love – Maroon 5
She Will Be Loved – Maroon 5
Hold Me, Thrill Me, Kiss Me – Mel Carter (Love Sixties CD)
The Game of Love – Michelle Branch
Medical Love Song – Monty Python
That’s the Way Love Goes – N*Sync cover
This Will Be (An Everlasting Love) – Natalie Cole
(I Can’t Live Without Your) Love and Affection – Nelson (That’s right, Matthew and Gunner)
Hey Ya – Outkast (Speakerboxxx/The Love Below CD)
The Way You Move - Outkast (Speakerboxxx/The Love Below CD)
Feelin’ Love – Paula Cole
Baby I Love Your Way – Peter Frampton
Seasons of Love – Rent Original Broadway Cast Soundtrack
Will You Still Love Me Tomorrow – The Shirelles
Isn’t She Lovely – Stevie Wonder
Seasons of Love – Stevie Wonder version
Stop! In the Name of Love – The Supremes
Love Don’t Come Easy – The Supremes
Saving All My Love For You – Whitney Houston
You Give Good Love – Whitney Houston
The Greatest Love of All – Whitney Houston
In Love With A Stripper – Wyclef Jean

2005-08-05T00:55:00.000-04:00

Okay.

I realize it’s been over a month since I last blogged. For this I am very sorry. But I believe I have good reason.

So this one will be long because I fully intend to update you all fully. I just am having trouble trying to keep it all straight in my head.

Alright. I’ll just go for it.

1. New Link Added!

Volansky, as evidenced by previous posts and in a number of luminous articles by everyone that matters, is the Goddess of my Idolatry. And she has stared a blog. I encourage you to click – and see why she rocks so damn hard.

2. I Got My Jeep Back!

It only took a month and a half. And they only made one mistake – which isn’t bad considering they basically had to put the entire car back together. When I asked what they didn’t touch, the guy said, “Um, basically from the doors back. But not even, we had to fix some of the doors. Otherwise the rest of it is brand-new.” Suhweet. As for the one mistake – I have windshield wipers on the front and back of my car. When I go to try to clean the front window, I’m supposed to pull the lever towards me for the mist. When I pull, the mist goes off in the rear window. When I push the button for the rear mist, the front mist goes. It’s actually pretty amusing. But they are going to fix it. I was so confused the first time – it was like getting the car brand new all over again. But I’m happy my baby is back.

3. Vacation, all I ever wanted!

We went on our annual trek to North Kackalacki again. Seven miles up the beach in an amazing house – sure, there were a couple of problems with the house – like no air conditioning on the third floor until Wednesday, a broken bathroom door that three of us were sharing, and a luke-warm hot tub. But really, who cares when you’re on vacation up the beach, nobody really around for miles, good food and drink, and most importantly, good company? We played Dance Dance and Karaoke Revolutions, we beached, we wave jumped, I rented a boat to take out on the water, we luke-warm tubbed it, we played board games, we listed to music, we drank, we watched movies – and we had fun. I don’t know that I can ever ask for a better vacation that that. For fun quotes, click on the link to the Cardboard Box’s Blog – it’s all there. That’s some fun you can shake a stick at.

4. I bought a time share!

I did! In Williamsburg. I spent a pretty penny. The next day…

5. I cancelled my time share!

It was a really sweet deal, but I don’t think I’m ready at this point in my life for that. I still have car and education to pay for – and an education I hope to have in the future. So no time-shares, just give me North Kackalacki and I’m cool.

6. It was still a free vacation.

So Fabs and I took advantage of it, went to Busch Gardens for free and rode all the rides – I was afraid I was too old for that stuff. I’m not. It was soo much fun. And we had an amazing time. The free hotel room was connected to an IHop and we had a whirlpool in our bathroom - which prompted a trip to the Big K for bubble bath. The next day we went to Monticello to check out good ‘ol TJ’s hizzy. We’re dorks, but we love that shit. Next time, we’ll do Montpelier.

7. I passed this sign twice in a month. I still laugh when I see it. Ha.

8. July 4th in Philly with Tony Danza?

Lindsay, Brian, and I went to Volansky’s on July 4th and went to the free concert. No, we didn’t go to Live 8 – everyone keeps asking. But we went to Elton John’s free concert. We saw Brian Adams. And Patti LaBelle. And Rufus Wainwright. And then the man himself came on. It was great – we were just standing there, having a good time (and yes, it was hot as hell and standing was annoying after a while, but once Elton came on, I didn’t notice anymore). I could see for most of it. Until Elton came on. Then this was my view:

Dick.

All night, we kept shouting, “Tiny!” Who doesn’t love Tiny Dancer? And he actually played it! And then one of the girls in the group said, “Ever notice how it sounds like he’s singing ‘Tony Danza?’” I’ll never hear the song again without thinking in my head, “Hold me closer, Tony Daaanzaaa.” Damn.

9. I MET ANI DIFRANCO!!!! I CAN DIE NOW.

So a while back, Sarah and I got tickets to the Ani DiFranco show in Wilmington this past week. Lindsay and Brian were going to come, but at the last minute, we had to change plans. So I gave the tickets to Siobhain and Dickert – it had recently been both of their birthdays. So I was happy to finally give them the chance to see Ani live – and front row balcony, too. So we went. Erin McKeown opened. She is amazing. Then the ‘Lil Folksinger herself came on and it was one of the most memorable shows I’ve seen her do. She did a lot of my favorite songs – As Is, Your Next Bold Move, Subdivision, Shameless, Studying Stones, Overlap – I can’t remember all of them, but it was a great concert. Afterwards, we noticed her tour bus behind the venue. There was a small crowd of about ten of us and we waited for almost two hours. Before she came out, the cops tried to kick us out. The Righteous Babe staff and her road crew told us to stay – they made sure we got to see her. Then one of her people came out and explained that she didn’t like pictures and couldn’t sign autographs because she had tendonitis – she was really sorry, but we could at least talk to her. No problem.

I wish I had met her years ago when she was cool with all of that, but I understood. So she came out, all unassuming and right up and chatted with us. I know I said something stupid. But she was smiling, told us how employees at Whole Foods can’t have dyed hair or piercings – this was because someone mentioned her dreads were gone and her hair was now purple. She looked over at me. I said, “Hey, thanks for playing Subdivision – I love that song – I’m from Syracuse, so I know exactly what you’re talking about.” She smiled and was like, “Yeah! That’s cool.” She put up her fist and leaned back and said, “Homestate.” I said, “Yeah, thanks – you were amazing and I heart you.” She said, “Cool. Thanks a lot.” There was some little chatter, but right after that, she pretty much got on her tour bus and drove away. So I met her. I did.

10. Congress Does Yet Another Dumb Thing.

I find the title of this section humorous and incredibly sad at the same time.

I will get on my soapbox soon – this is nothing. It’s been a while since I ranted, but I will leave that for the next post or so when I do more research. Yes, I do fact checking before I open my mouth. So there.

But you know, all of us thought this Energy bill was going nowhere. At the Ani concert, she told us how the day before they were in DC and the went to their Congressman’s offices and went to the hearing on the energy bill and “they gave [her] a mic and a podium and everything.” She ripped into them about what the energy bill was about to do – give billions of dollars in tax breaks to the oil and energy companies, create new nuclear facilities – and on top of that, they don’t know what to do with all of the nuclear waste as it is. So the bill allows them to put nuclear waste on trains and transport the waste through the country – think of all of those cities and villages and sleepy towns NUCLEAR WASTE will be traveling through - it’s destination? A Native American site/reservation in Utah.

WHAT THE HELL?!

This passed with an enormous amount of support. I was pretty pissed when I found out that the CAFTA vote came down to 2 VOTES in the House but this energy bill is outrageous. This is the type of thing that makes me so damn angry. They’re up all night, writing the bill, changing it – who wants to bet money that this 1,700+ page bill, amended at he 11th and 12th hours wasn’t read by a majority of the Congressman? I’ll bet the farm. And whatever is left of my Social Security – with this f*@!ing Administration running the helm and Congressmen kissing ass to them, my guaranteed benefit is as good as gone – these bastards have a way of getting their shit passed with no one blinking an eye.

When did America fall asleep? WHEN???!!! When will it wake up and realize that we are getting the golden shaft?!

Let me quickly break down the basics:
-This bill is basically one big tax break. Electric utilities will see a saving of $3.1 billion, the Coal Industry will see a savings of $2.9 billion, and the Oil and Gas Companies will see a whopping $2.7 billion saved over the next ten years.
-The bill has little or no impact on gas prices. So the President, when asked how to lower gas prices, has pointed to this stalled legislation had to concede that this bill will do nothing to gas prices, wanna know what the reaction was? A big fat nothing. No one has bothered to make the connection that the President was – once again – talking out of his ass. Or Karl Rove’s. Hard to tell.
- The bill won’t necessarily prevent another blackout. It makes them more accountable. And encourages investments in nuclear energy and the construction of power plants, like I said above. So it naturally begs the question – how will this connect to Homeland Security and the Patriot Act now that we have decided to give them the green light to create more terrorist targets…er, I mean, how are we going to be sure these facilities are secure?

And, my friends, if this doesn’t already piss you off, I’m sure this will:
At the 11th hour, they added $1.5 billion in research funds to help oil and gas companies in the Texas district of none other than House majority leader, Tom DeLay. (Time Magazine, August 8, 2005)

Pissed now? Thought so.

11. I’m slow to the take on politics because it has been a difficult week.

I am putting in a rare personal note in this blog post. I ask for your good thoughts and prayers – my father is in the hospital and he’s doing well, but not out of the woods yet. I’m just happy and fortunate that they were here and not home in Syracuse when it happened so that I can be here. Since my cousin just got a job in Dover, he’s here, too – so it’s good we’re all together. It’s always times like these when I forget how strong and formidable my mother is – how wonderfully resilient, brave, and graceful she is in times of duress. So there are good things along with the bad, but just say a good word for him when you get a chance, will you? Everyone has been so amazing – and for those of you who have offered support, time, and anything I need in the past week – and if you read this blog – thank you. It means a lot.

So on that note, I leave you. Thanks for reading – and checking up on it. Because I have been bad at this lately, but I hope to get better.

Coming up: Trips to Albany and Wisconsin and my 26th birthday next week – I will write soon!

Take care of yourself. And others.

-Keeza

2005-06-20T19:03:00.000-04:00

Okay. I have found myself once again lacking in my blogging duties. So in no particular order (well, maybe in order of when it happened from earliest to most recent), here's what's happening with me. It's long. So read when you are either a.) bored as balls; b.) procrastinating; or c.) have absolutely nothing better to do.

THE JEEP ACCIDENT UPDATE:

So yes, I have begun the motions of contesting the claim. I'll explain further, keep reading.

I AM PERSONALLY INJURED
Turns out that when I went to my regularly scheduled Chiropractic appointment, the doctor was like, "Wait, whoa. You were in a car accident? Well, we need to run some tests before I adjust you, let's check everything out."

Turns out that my lower back is almost doubly worse than when I first walked into his office three weeks before the accident and that my neck, which is supposed to be slightly curved and in a straight line, is not curved much at the base and not in a straight line head on. Neat.

So he says to me, "You need to call the insurance company and start a personal injury claim. Your HMO won't let me throw all my tools at you to help you out, but the auto insurance will because it's stemming from the accident - you weren't this bad when you first walked in."

Indeed, I've been in my lumbar pain and upper back and neck stiffness in the past two weeks.

So now I get three massages a week to work on my sore muscles before my adjustment.

Rough, I know.

But I'm in so much pain, it's helping a lot.

RETAINING A LAWYER
My chiropractor then suggested an attorney for me to speak with. So I explain the whole thing, he asks a few questions and then says, "Well, I believe that we have enough to reverse the blame. In fact, I'm fairly sure you have a very very good shot."

Neat.

So I ask him how much this will set me back. He asks, "You got my name from your chiropractor, right? Are you injured?"

I explain the x-rays and my lower back and neck.

"Well," he answers, "I'm sure we'll get the blame off of you based on the pictures and from what happened that then we'll move to a personal injury claim. It's my hope that you won't have to worry about me once we settle."

I guess I'm suing someone. Yippie-kai-yay. I'm torn. But if it means that I might have a shot at paying off some debts or even part of my car, then I suppose I will give it a shot.

THE DAMAGE
Based on what they could see, the damage to my vehicle is over a cool $5,300. When they start tearing it apart, they might find more, along with extensive damage to the underside of the passenger side when I went over the boulder. They thought it would take two weeks to fix. It took a week and a half to get the parts. So I won't get the baby back anytime soon.

I HAVE PROOF
So besides working the accident out logistically in my head and remembering everything that happened, it turns out that I have proof. Not only is the Rascals owner providing me with the pictures he took that morning (he was utterly and speechlessly surprised that I was the one ticketed because he knew the guy hit me in the shoulder - ha!), but I took pictures with my trusty cellphone of the skid marks still visible in the shoulder. Take a quick look below. You can see where he hit me - where the tracks overlap. And they are clearly in the shoulder, not in the lane.

If you look really hard, you can see the skids. Keep looking.

WANNA KNOW WHAT'S FUNNY ABOUT BEING TICKETED IN THIS ACCIDENT?
Not too damn much. But we're talking about me here. I managed to find something bladder bustingly funny when I took a closer inspection of the ticket from the Trooper.

Turns out that I'm White! And a Hispanic Female!

Under Race, she checked "White." Under Ethnicity, she checked "Hispanic."

I suppose that one could make the argument that since I am a Filipina that because the Spanish invaded my country for 300 years, that might make me Hispanic. Hell, my last name before I took my step-fathers was Spanish. My great-grandmother used to speak primarily in Spanish?

Or you could just ask me. Because I understand. I get it a lot. Just don't make assumptions. It makes an ass out of you and

...umption.

Moving on.

SKETCHY McSKETCHERTON
So this dude that I hit. Not even his car. Registered to someone else. I don't know who it is. Can't even tell if it's a he or a she based on the name the Trooper supplied me with.

But he's totally Sketchy McSketcherton now.

Today - two weeks after the accident - almost at the exact time I filed the claim after the accident - I call the insurance company to make sure everything is kosher, I don't have to fill out anything, etc. Since they did such a bang-up job with my personal injury claim (that's a long story that doesn't need repeating). And she tells me that the dude-that-hit-me's insurance company closed his end of the claim.

I'm confused. She explains.

"Well, according to the file, he hasn't contacted the company since the accident and the insurance company can't get a hold of them. So they closed the claim."

Buhscuse me?

So I pull out my Accident Folder (I'm anal retentive) and relay all the information on him as I can. The Trooper supplied us both with each other's information. And apparently I'm the only one who has it, not even the insurance company.

So...

It somewhat makes me nervous, but not really. Because I am doing everything I'm supposed to. If - no - WHEN I get the fault in this accident overturned, the insurance company can go after their insurance company for all they've got. I refuse to pay more in my insurance because I GOT HIT. I refuse to get points added to my license because I GOT HIT. And hell, I'm not paying a deductible because I'M NOT AT FAULT.

So that is what's happening with my accident. Craziness.

FENG SHUI FOR THE COMPUTER WIDOW

So the last show of The Cardboard Box Collaborative's inaugural season came and went. And it was fun. It was not without its share of mishaps, but in the end, everyone who came to see it really enjoyed it. We got some KICK-ASS karaoke in and managed to go to the sauna unintentionally (the place had no air-conditioning). On top of it, we made new friends, got to eat sushi all the time, and learned some new things. And we laughed. Much. And often. And really, that's all that is necessary for a good experience.

I OFFICIALLY MISS NEW YORK

So after being kidnapped by Jessica a few weeks ago after the Coro Dinner, I came to the realization that I really am absolutely not done with the Big Apple yet.

See, I was worried that I might be. That I would never want to go back. But no worries, my New York friends that read this - if any of you do. Because I miss the city like I would miss my arm if it was cut-off from me. This much has become apparent to me - and more.

SHOWING THE GIRLS AROUND MY HOME
But let me explain the last time I was in NYC - just last week - with my coworkers.

So being a gracious host, I found it difficult to call everyone that I wanted to when I was in the City. For this, I apologize to anyone that I didn't get to see - and it was a many people. It was just so crazy and hectic - and in trying to make sure that my coworkers were having a good time - I just plum found it hard to connect with everyone I wanted to. I will change this though, since I plan to go up and only see the people that I haven't yet.

But anyway, I digress.

A month or so ago, my coworkers and I spent an unholy amount of money for these fantastic seats to the Yankees/Pittsburgh game. We're talking behind home plate. Yeah.

So Jackie wanted to get a hotel room. I decided that after spending that much money on the tickets that I should try to find someone willing to put up three people. I very soon decided against that - didn't want to overburden anyone with three bodies taking up space in their apartment. So I offered to use my Hilton Honor Points from Iowa and Seattle that I racked up.

So we booked a free hotel room the night before the game so that we could really enjoy ourselves. The hotel was SWEET. Embassy Suites in Battery Park, right across from the Irish Hunger Memorial. Amazing. And highly recommended for people who want to find a nice hotel in Manhattan.

HOTTER THAN BALLS UNDER THE STARS
A few days before leaving, I got an email from my good friend, Mai. Turns out she had VIP tickets to "Broadway Under the Stars." So I readily accepted.

We sat very close to the stage on a huge blanket, enjoying cheese and wine. Christina Applegate looked fantastic. We didn't know some of the songs (it was a tribute show with Broadway Men as the theme) but we had a good time anyway.

It was also ridiculously hot and humid and no breeze and thousands of New Yorkers. You know what I mean. We were sweating just sitting there. It might have been the wine. But it was hot.

In fact, during the first number, the lights went out. I thought something might be wrong. They were filming it for broadcast later in the week. The Rockettes kept dancing through the lights being out - we could see what they were doing. Afterwards, Christina was like, "Wasn't that great? Let's see that again!"

We all laughed.

And then she said, "No, seriously. As you can see, the lights have gone out, so we're going to need to redo that so that we can re-film. So hang tight."

So we did. We were all talking amongst ourselves. Christina was still on stage. Someone shouted, "Dance, Christina!" She shuffled a did a little step. Clearly, all of them on stage were laughing and having a good time. Someone in the crowd yelled, "Kelly Bundy!" She didn't seem to respond. Someone yelled, "I love you, Christina!" She replied, "I love you back" into the microphone.

I was rapidly searching my brain. See, I heart Christina Applegate because I heart "The Sweetest Thing." That movie cracks me up - and her especially. So I was trying to find a line that she said for me to shout out to her so that she would recognize a "Sweetest Thing" fan. I wanted to yell, "Look, it's Jesus!" but I was afraid I'd offend someone. Then I was about to yell, "What's up with you?" When the lights went back on.

So a few days later, I mention this to some friends who heart the movie and ask for things I should have shouted out. It took us a while. We had to find the right quote that wasn't too crazy or vulgar to yell. It was Narco who finally hit, "Do we have time for a movie montage?"

Damn. I should have thought of that. Oh well. I'll just have to see Sweet Charity and try it when she comes out of the stage door.

I FORGOT HOW NON-EXPENSIVE SOME PLACES IN NEW YORK ARE WHEN YOU'RE DRINKING
In my accident week, all I wanted was a drink. I didn't have one until after Broadway Under the Stars. We decided to go to a place close to Bryant Park with air conditioning. One of the former Coro's suggested a place his friends work at. So we went.

Three shots and four or five drinks later, I was ready to head back to the hotel with Jackie and Sarah. Needless to say, all of us were feeling just fine. We had enough sense to call the front desk for a late check out. And late check out we did.

We checked out at 1:30 in the afternoon, grabbed brunch at Lalo's and got stuck in traffic showing the girls around the town. We parked in a garage and headed to the 4 at 86th Street.

THE BRONX BOMBERS AND HAPPINESS
To cap the end to a very trying week, I was elated to go to the Yankees game. Especially with the seats we had. It was me and Jackie and Sarah and my good friend, Vivian (from my McCall days and just a big a Yankee fan as I am).

I think I almost cried when we came through the tunnel to get to our seats. It was amazing. We were in the VIP section where they served food to you. Sure, I spent an arm and a leg and had to wait until the 6th inning to get my food, but really, it was fantastic.

I won't say too much. I'll let the pictures speak for themselves. This is how freaking close we were. We watched Mussina pitch a complete shut-out, Matsui hit a home run in the first inning, Giambi turn the jeers into cheers with a double hit, A-Rod warming up, Derek Jeter just being there, Sheffield's crazy waving bat, Robbie Cano stroke one to the outfield, Posada doing his thing, and Tino Martinez come into the game. Even Ruben Sierra made an appearance. It was AMAZING. I don't think that I can ever go to Yankees Stadium again. Because I'm going to want those seats everytime. Someday...

The view from our seats.

A-Rod warming up.

Taking the field.

Derek Jeter.

A-Rod on deck.

I heart you, Tino Martinez!

Finally, the girls. Me, Jackie, Sarah, and Vivian.

That is my update. I hope you've enjoyed it. Please keep coming back. I will be much better at this. At the least, I will try once a week. Cheers.

2005-06-06T20:40:00.000-04:00

THE SHITTIEST MONDAY IN RECENT MEMORY

So coming off of our opening weekend for Feng Shui in Philly, I found myself having the shittiest Monday in recent memory.

You see, it's just a little over a year to the day that I traded in my old Donkey (Subaru Impreza) for a 2003 pretty-damn-near-new Jeep Liberty I have named "The Gorilla" (you can ask me why in the comments).

This would all be fine and good.

Except that I got into a car accident today.

My baby is broken.

It was 9:30 in the morning and I was coming back from Lindsay's with Hucklebees - literally less than three miles away from my house. I was going to drop off the cat and my bags and go straight into work.

Well I'm at the turn to get into my neighborhood - a turn I've made hundreds of times. And as I'm approaching, I notice there's an unusual amount of traffic going north on Route 13, which is what I have to crossover to get into my neighborhood.

Route 13 is a three lane road. It's like a big boulevard - cement dividers between north and south - and special turn-offs for u-turns or left turns. You get the idea.

Anyway, there's a ridiculous amount of trucks and motor homes and trailers attached to trucks coming from the south. Apparently there was a NASCAR race in Dover I was unaware of. Either way, it made for a lot of traffic.

Now generally speaking, most Delaware drivers find themselves on the wrong side of dumb, as Narco would say. I was waiting at the stop sign to go straight across Route 13 for maybe ten minutes. Seriously. I was behind this woman who was making a left turn. Cars were waving her to go. She wouldn't. So I pull up along side of her on her right - many of us do this when we are trying to go straight at this stop sign when we are behind someone going left. If she wasn't going to take advantage of the nice people waving her through, I sure as hell was going to.

Now I should mention that there's a stop light about 100 yards to my right. Basically, the traffic going north on 13 was stopped at this red light and these cars noticed we were trying to either go straight or make a left turn and to their credit, were leaving us space to go. So I slowly start to go forward. I'm giving the obligatory wave to the two cars who have stopped and as I approach the trailer attached to the truck in the third row farthest away from the stop sign and closest to the street I was trying to get onto, I hesitated for a second. I inched forward for a second, counted to three, and then hit the gas gently to get past the truck.

It was at this point that there was suddenly a loud thud and my wheel went to the right. Realizing I was in the process of getting hit, I jerked the steering wheel to the left a little. My reflexes were good, except that I ended up hitting the gas a bit instead of the brake. In hindsight, this was a good thing and I'll explain that. But at the time, I ended up going over a nicely landscaped curb, felt the jeep going over a boulder in the nicely landscaped curb, and trying desperately not to hit the street sign or the "Rascals" sign for the restaurant that shares this curb. Turns out I landed just into a soft patch on the grass, but plummeted my car right before the landscaping got to include bushes and more rocks.

Now I'm pretty shaken, I turn to check on the cat, who is okay - turn off my car, grab my insurance, and walk out of the car. The driver of the other car is pretty shaken. His airbag had deployed and he was a little confused. I asked if he was okay. After he said yes, I started to call 911. A guy walked over to us and asked if we were okay - he had heard the crash from down the street and ran to make sure no one was hurt. That was nice of him. He stayed for a little bit to make sure we were okay.

It's at this point I realize the other driver has bruises along his arm and a cut knee. The impact of him hitting the airbag must have been pretty hard.

It's also at this point that I look at the front of my car. You'll see pictures below. My heart sank. I was also a little pissed. I could only think of my insurance at the cost, I'll have to admit.

It's fixable, though. I think.

So to make a very long story short, the state troopers didn't come for about an hour or so. So I sat there with the other driver. He was okay. He was from Philly. He was trying to call his daughter to pick him up. He was very nice. We agreed it was just an accident - we didn't see each other over the trailer - hey, shit happens. He said he wasn't going to sue me or anything. I said "Thanks." I should have said "I won't either." But I'll get to that.

So the trooper finally gets there to take all of our information. This is where the story gets bogged down in details. What is important is that I told her the story as I told all of you just now - a truncated version, though. Basically, he was in the lane closest to us and I had hesitated, I thought I had it clear and the next thing I knew, I was on this grassy and landscaped embankment.

The Rascals owner came out and took pictures and then told me that the county has enough to put a light there, they just won't. And he doesn't care about the property, he cares about people getting hurt. Apparently, two years ago, I guy flipped over his car and two weeks ago, some guy moved a huge bolder twenty feet with his car for the same reason. So he was saying that he was glad everyone was okay and that they need to put a traffic light there because it was so dangerous - it happened all the time.

Um.

So she takes the info as I'm calling my insurance and all that blah crap. She calls two tow trucks - very necessary. Had I slammed on my brakes at impact, I might have flipped over the Jeep. Okay. So I'm at least alive and fine. Then I get really upset. Why?

Because the other driver said he was in the lane, not on the shoulder. Which is an understandable mistake - people use that shoulder all the time as a lane. He had mentioned to me that he had pulled off to get a hot dog at the place next to rascals on his way home.

Of course, he had no cash and no cards on him, so I don't know how he was going to accomplish such a thing, but this is another story.

So I am the one who is at fault, according to the trooper. Failure to yield at a stop sign. Which is crap since I was stopped at it for ten minutes and was going because the cars had waved me through. This, of course, does not occur to me until the tow truck arrives and after Jackie and Sarah pick me and Hucklebee up and I'm at home and starting to piece it all together again.

I get a $50 fine. I had started to piece it together when the trooper was there, I asked her if the lane closest to us was a lane or a shoulder. She said a shoulder. Okay. I didn't quite put it together, but I was pretty damn sure at that moment that he was in the shoulder and not the lane.

I ask her about points on the license. She says it might be one or two points. She is really apologetic - she didn't want to have to place blame in the situation - at least that's the feeling I got. She said, "You don't have any points on your license, do you?" I said, "No. I've been in very very small accidents before this and no points were given." She looked really sympathetic and shrugged and said, "I'm really sorry."

So here's my dilemna: I am pretty damn sure that my account is correct. I very clearly remember waving to two cars in the first two lanes because I did it after I had passed the first car and wondered if the first car saw me. I was slowing down past the truck. If I'm correct, that's three lanes. In which case, I was blindsided on the shoulder. I've driven the damn thing so many damn times, been in the exact same situation and I know that once I get past the third car, I'm in the clear.

So do I contest this? I think that on principle, I need to. At the least, to impart the importance of putting a goddamned traffic light there. But here's the sticky part: it's my word against his.

Because no one - not one - in that long line of traffic - who saw the accident stopped. Not one of them stepped forward as a witness - no one even rolled down a window to see if we were okay. Tell me that I'm not crazy when I think that this is pretty damn egregious.

The only guy who stopped was a guy who heard the accident down the street - he never saw it. The Rascals guy was taking pictures of his property. And the guy who stopped had said, "You know, this is just an accident, but they'll probably tag the blame on you."

Right. I understand that. The other driver had the right of way. Or did he? If he was driving on the shoulder, did he have the right of way? If other cars stop to let me pass, I understand I have to be careful in the cross, but in a three lane highway where I had successfully passed three cars, is it my fault?

Thoughts? Comforting thoughts? Jesus. I'm just sitting here thinking through this logically and trying to apply some of my legally-conscious mind to it.

In the meantime, AFSCME came through in the clutch and got me a rental car the very same evening. At least I have that.

And my poor, poor gorilla is going to be appraised and then worked on. Oh, and it's not just body damage, apparently, the impact I had on the rock not only killed the front tire and probably the axle, but it also knocked something else out because there was oil and fluid leaking from my car when the guy towed it out. I just hope it's fixable and that they can get it back to where it once was. I am paying waaay too much money for this car to have it look like a piece of shit, I'll pay off that deductible some way.

I'm so not happy. Please tell me this isn't a sign of the week to come. It's only Monday.

Good thing my cellphone has a camera. I remembered it about thirty minutes after the accident. But this is pretty much it.

This is where my car came to rest.

Even got part of my passenger door. I can't open it all the way. Scratches along the passenger side all the way to the rear wheel. This is going to cost me a fortune.

Notice the wheel. Smashed.

Getting towed off of the embankment.

This is the last view I got of my car before I left. Sad.

Send happy thoughts. I'd appreciate it.

2005-06-02T02:35:00.000-04:00

Wow. That's all I have to say. Wow.

it's hard to believe this month has flown by, but I can't say that I'm upset about it. It's been one thing after another and I guess for anyone who actually checks into this thing, the latest thing I can say is that I'm good. Busy as all hell, but feeling quite good.

The thing is, I've been running around this state, between here and Maryland, between here and New York, and between here and Philly. And yes, I work seven days a week. Call me crazy, but it's the only speed I know. I suppose at some point, my body will stop me from doing such things - as it almost did at the beginning of the month. So, in typical "I haven't written a blog in weeks" fashion, an update on all things fabulous and not in my life:

THE SPRING OF BASEBALL.
Perhaps some of you know, perhaps some of you don't - I happen to be a big fan of America's favorite pastime. As evidenced by posts as the legendary Orioles/Twins game from before - this is truly the spring of baseball. It's funny how it's always when I leave NYC that I tend to watch more baseball. Because it used to be right there in front of me and I suppose part of leaving New York is that at least I get to watch my beloved boys play no matter where I am. Except that I'm in Delaware. Which means that I have to go to Buffalo Wild Wings to watch them play because they're the only place in this state with the YES Network (That's the exclusive Yankees network for those of you that are unaware). The point is, even though I'm a die-hard, dyed-in-the-wool Yankees fan, I have only seen them play once this spring. And until two weeks ago, I was averaging a game a week. I've seen the Phillies, the Cardinals, the Twins, the Orioles - and the Yankees - only once. Something needed to be done. Especially since I've now got my co-workers watching them as often as I am, being the Braves and Cardinals fans that they are - they think the Yanks are hot and I've gotta say that I whole-heartedly agree.

The point is, I plunked down a lot of cash and in two weeks, the three of us are going up to Yankees Stadium and meet up with another die-hard Bronx Bombers fan to watch them in action at the House that Ruth Built - and in the section right behind home plate and close to the Yankee dugout. Excuse me while I take a moment to dance around my room.

Thank you.

I barely get to see them much being down here, but I've managed to keep tabs on most of the games. Which brings me to my next point.

XM RADIO
I caved in and finally bought one last month and I can't get enough of the damn thing. Hell, I bought it so that I could listen to my Yankees no matter where I am. So if you're thinking about spending the money to get one, I highly recommend it. It's possibly one of the most useful things I've bought myself - and I've stopped listening to the conventional radio, which always ruins music for me.

FILLIBUSTER, BOLTON, and BILL FRIST
Yes, I won't wax political or philisophical about this one. Obviously, I grinned as last week ended when I read the words, "Frist cedes control of Senate to Reid" in the Washington Post. But what I will say is this: cooler heads prevailed and in the meantime, I think I finally saw and heard of Senators I had long thought had died. See, the Fillibuster fight would have dictated much of what I do since my job is tied to what happens in the Senate (for obvious reasons I choose not to go into right now). So while working last week, I found myself listening to C-SPAN all week, something even a political animal like myself have never done for hours at a time, and finding it very interesting. Beyond that, not much has changed. Except that even with a Republican majority in both the House, Senate, and White House, we are finally hanging together. It's not quite as much progress as my little liberal beating heart can hope for, but under the circumstances, I'm pretty darn pleased.

WC DEBAUCHERY AND WHERE THE HELL IS MY CELLPHONE CHARGER?
Yet another Washington College graduation gone by. As an older alum who was using graduation weekend as a relaxing break from the hey day of Social Security reform, I decided that instead of going to the bars at all this weekend, I'd stay in with friends and have some down time. So we did.

Stayed at Middle Hall with the crew and didn't leave all weekend. Seriously. I decided that if people wanted to see me, they could get their ass to me since I wasn't going far. Turned out for the better, I think.

We had a WC Happening on the front porch and into the Cater Walk. Brought the guitar and mic along. We played, we laughed, we reminisced. We then decided to play "Fifty Guineas and a Dream" and see if anyone could correctly answer some WC trivia. Turns out we not only know a lot about the history of our college (and we're talking real obscure things), but we can make it fun. I guess that when your college is the only one in the country licensed to use George Washington's name (legally) and you are the 10th college in the nation, there's a lot to ask. Lemme clarify for all of you the title of our trivia game - George Washington himself gave us his name and fifty guineas to start up the college and being the aweomest ever, we have decided that means George gave us fifty guineas and a dream. He also did serve on our Board of Visitors and Governors and left because he became president. Not too shabby.

I digress.

So after many hours of "Fifty Guineas" and a load of drinking whilst doing it, we retreated into one of the rooms where we had the fully stocked bar and proceeded to have a very good time. I made up new concoctions that were lauded by everone. I called them "Monkey Juice" and the even more popular "Monkey Punch" and then it was DOMA time. We initiated two kiddies and before you could say "May Day," it was Sunday and time for mimosas during graduation.

After graduation, we hurried out of the dorm (though not quick enough because I spent over $200 at the bookstore - don't ask) and towards Rock Hall where a co-worker of Lindsay's has a house on the bay. We spent the afternoon staring at the Chesapeake Bay, having a barbecue, driving around in a golf cart, and swimming in the indoor pool before saying our goodbyes to yet another fantastic reunion weekend.

On the drive home, I started thinking and wondering whether or not I had grabbed my cellphone charger out of the dorm before I left. I was only twenty minutes away from the college and almost turned around because I was sure I had. The only thing was that I didn't have a clue as to how to get back in the dorm.

Sure enough, I couldn't find it when I got home. So I've been calling the school and it turns out that they couldn't find it, either.

So what the hell happened to my cellphone charger, dammit?!

I'm still sad. Or pissed. I can't tell the difference.

I'M CROOKED.
Going back to that thing in the beginning of this post, my back hurt me for more than a month straight. And not just a dull little pain, but serious sharp pain. So I started going to a chiropractor. Which has been fantastic. It helps that he's pretty cute, too. But that's neither here nor there. It turns out that I had a group of muscles on one side working against a group of muscles on the other. Also, you're supposed to have these fluid-filled sacs between your vertebrae and after years of chronic pain without any adjustments at all, my lumbar vertebrae sacs are extremely compressed. So this is what the trainers were saying to me in crew. Of course, they didn't fix me at all. So I leave it to my chiropractor to straighten me out. I've been going three times a week and since I started, I'm feeling incredibly better. Progress is steady and my body has begun to make some serious changes to the adjustments. I'm not quite out of the woods yet, things are starting to stay in place and now my spine is correcting, so the pain will sometimes dissapate and then suddenly, it's back again - and spreading to my upper and mid back - but I'm told this is normal. Either way, I'm finally fixing a problem that has been vexing me for most of my life - from the time I was a kid. Funny how no doctors ever fixed it before.

THE ANNUAL CORO DINNER AND FOR CRYING OUT LOUD, I MISS NEW YORK.
I went to the Annual Coro Dinner last week and it was amazing. They had it at the Lighthouse at Pier 61 at Chelsea Piers and it was so incredibly shee-shee-pee-pee-doo-doo. Then again, I did pay a lot of money to go.

The room has these huge windows and being on the pier, the view of the Hudson is fantastic. Walking in, they had these trays of drinks that were splederific and hors d'ourves that were amazing - I'm talking truffles, salmon, crab, stuffed noodles with asparagus. Then the room opened up for the dinner and this year, instead of spreading out Coro alum amongst the tables, they seated all of us together. Which might have been a mistake.

We were so far away from the action that we found ourselves not paying attention at all. Plus, our table had only six people total and the table had settings for at least twelve. There were glasses of wine in front of us. We were lightyears away from the action. So we decided to drink and whisper and send text messages to other alumni at different tables. It was decadent. Dinner was amazing. It was fun.

At one point, we were joined by one of the Fellows in my class and two of her co-workers. Just so happens that she works at NY1 News and one of her guests was a fairly famous newscaster. We made quick friends. I passed her glasses of wine, we drank, we all had a great time at the table. And then we went to the bar with the rest of the alum afterwards.

After one beer, I had to go. Mostly because my car was going to be towed if I let it sit there after 11. So after circling the block and realizing there was no parking whatsoever, me and two alum decided to leave since we didn't feel like paying for parking only to go back into the bar that was hotter than Hades and drink more.

We had an adventure. One of them lived in Brooklyn, so in driving her home, we decided to stop by the apartment of a Coro alum and chum (as I say) that wasn't at the dinner. We hung out there for a while before dropping her off.

Then it was off to Astoria in Queens where I was staying with my friend for the evening. After some chatting, we went to bed. The next morning, I work up so I could move my car and head back. I got a call from my former AFSCME boss in Iowa. So we met for brunch. She kidnapped me. She roped me into going to the NYC labor happy hour that night. What can I say? She really pulled my arm.

Riiight.

So whilst waiting, I decided to run some errands. Went back to the old apartment. Stopped by the bank. Shopped at Modell's for Yankees gear for me and my coworkers for the big game in two weeks. Went to visit a grey area in my life (we all have them - and it was a good time). Went to the happy hour. Had free drinks and food. Met wonderful people. Promised to come back. Left for Delaware.

And in my unexpected extended stay, I realized, with a lot of sadness, just how much I really missed home. I think that's why I have only been going into the city for extremely short periods at a time since I moved (a few hours, a one-night deal) and stopped going altogether. It's too hard to go back. It's the life I left behind. I'm happy where I am, but there's a part of me wishing that I'll get sent back home soon. Because I'm now in that strange place where I know deep down in my heart that I'm going back because I know for a fact that I'm not anywhere near done with New York yet. But it's so strange to go back. Because I don't have a home there to go back to. It's so familiar and a part of me and yet I can't stay because I don't live there anymore. It's familiar and foreign at the same time. It's exciting and the same. It's fun and sad. And it's still strange to know that I lived there and had such an amazing three years there and I can't call it home. It's uplifiting. And it breaks my heart that I am not a part of it everyday. I don't know that I'll ever get over it until I move back. So I guess that's on my "To Do List." Honestly, I don't think it ever came off of it.

FENG SHUI
The Cardboard Box Collaborative's final show of the season is upon us. I wrote one of the monologues in the show. It's going to be fabulous.

As one of the CBC's Artistic Associates and it's resident design/scenic monkey, I have been spending a lot of time on all the stuff for the show in my copious amounts of spare time (i.e. sleep time). So if you can see it, please do. You can check out the link on the right for the show information.

WORK AND OTHER RUMINATIONS
Work has been busy. Which is a good thing. We've been gearing up for this big town hall we had tonight. It turned out to be a cozy crowd, but a crowd nonetheless and we had a great time. So that's good.

I'm still struggling with certain aspects of my work, but that's the challenge in all of it, which is what I love about the work.

I dunno if my mind is playing tricks on me or what, but I'm starting to get strange feelings about work. I love the union and I love AFSCME, there's just other things happening in my environment that I can't put my finger on. i won't go into much detail. I think it's mostly been stress, though it hasn't been usual stress. Either way, my intuition is getting strange signals. I'm going to remain cryptic about this. I have a feeling that my time in New York last week triggered it.

But rest assured that I'm doing exactly what I love and I'm having a good time doing it. I wouldn't change places for the world.

That's my fifteen day update. I have two weeks until the Yankees and three weeks until Castle Connection with my friends in the Outer Banks. So i'm going to love this month. And everything it brings me, good and bad.

And I'll try to check in more often. I promise.

2005-05-15T14:24:00.000-04:00

This damn story will never go away and since I've been keeping you updated, I feel responsible for continuing to share the story. The Christ.

Worker: Finger found in chili severed in tailgate

SAN FRANCISCO, California (AP) -- The finger that a woman claimed she found in a bowl of Wendy's chili was severed in the tailgate of a truck during a work accident, an employee of an asphalt company said.

Pat Hogue, an estimator with a Las Vegas asphalt maintenance company, told the San Francisco Chronicle for a story in Sunday's editions that a man he was working with lost the tip of his finger on a job five months ago.

Both men were working with James Plascencia, the husband of Anna Ayala -- the Las Vegas woman who claimed she found the finger in a bowl of chili at a Wendy's restaurant in San Jose, Hogue told the paper.

Authorities believe the injured man gave the finger to Plascencia. Ayala is accused of trying to shake down the fast-food giant with a bogus tainted-food claim.

"I saw it on the news. I didn't know the lady at first was married to that James guy until after he was arrested," Hogue said in a telephone interview from his home in North Las Vegas.

Hogue and investigators have refused to identify the man with the severed finger, but police have said he's cooperating with authorities.

Ayala, 39, is in jail on suspicion of attempted grand theft. She claimed she bit into the finger on March 22 and filed a claim against the restaurant chain shortly afterward. The publicity resulted in a major loss of business for Wendy's.

Ayala later withdrew her claim as she came under scrutiny and investigators found at least 13 cases in which she has filed claims in her name or her children's.

Plascencia, 43, is being held in a Las Vegas jail on unrelated charges. He is awaiting extradition to California.

San Jose Police Chief Rob Davis said a tipster led investigators to the Nevada man with the missing finger. Investigators have refused to say how the finger was preserved or transported from Las Vegas to San Jose.

Police said more arrests were possible.

2005-05-10T09:54:00.000-04:00

YET ANOTHER EDITION OF THINGS NOT TO DO WITH COWORKERS
Otherwise titled: Reason #1025A Why I Am the Biggest Wiener of All

So yes, it has been awhile and there has been much happening and I was going to blog about it all. But before I go back and do a retrospective, I want to give you all a quick insight as to why I suck. Well, at least last night.

So tempted with the idea of a night at the ballpark, I bit when my co-workers, Jackie and Sarah (both of DE United) decided last-minute to go to the Orioles/Twins game last night at Camden Yards. Turns out that Jackie's friend from the campaign trail is a big Twins fan and there were still seats available right next to him and his girlfriend. So what the hell, I love Camden Yards and I wasn't driving. So whoohoo! And we were off.

Apparently, when we stopped to get gas, I pulled all of the money out of the ATM so Jackie and Sarah couldn't take out the cash they wanted. In hindsight, this is strike one for me.

So we go to the game, everything's fine. Jackie and Sarah start early with the Miller Lites. I'm hanging back because I wanted to walk around a bit, check out the bats they were selling (I'll get to this in a little bit). Here's where it gets interesting. I left at the top of the second inning to go walking. I went to the bathroom, ordered a personalized bat, and waited in line behind these two girls buying beer who decided to have a forty minute conversation with each other while they very very slowly ordered, got out their money, paid, and took a long ass time to get their money back in their purses, all the while standing at the counter. Needless to say, this whole affair probably took closer to ten minutes, but I was annoyed. Finally, I get myself and Jackie a beer as requested and start heading back to the seats. The whole thing must have taken half an hour or even forty minutes.

We were just getting into the bottom of the second inning.

This was the longest game. EVER. And I wasn't the only one who started feeling it.

So after finishing beer one and alternating between the actual action on the field and checking the scores of the team I really care about (Los Yankees) on my cellphone, I realized we had finally just finished the second inning.

By this time, Sarah, Jackie, and I were making comments and lamenting and laughing over the fact we would probably die in the stadium before the game ended.

So we did what only three girls who love baseball do. What do you do when you're at a beautiful ballpark and you don't give a rat's ass about the two teams playing? (Jackie is a Braves fan, Sarah is a Cards fan, and I'm the Bronx Bomber girl)

You drink. As much as you can to make it go faster.

So around our second or third beers, we decide we need to move to a less populous area because we wanted to revel in our drinking and loudness. So we move closer to foul territory, out from under the stadium into the open air and much better seats.

It's around this time that I stopped paying attention to how much I was actually drinking. We left again to take a pee break and I'm pretty sure Jackie got another one - with my money - at this point, it really didn't matter.

What I do know is that at some point, I ended up with three beers in my hand and an extra one between Sarah and me.

I think at some point, I knocked over that extra one and as penance, had to chug it. More for the road.

So I suppose somewhere in there was strike two. I only say strike two lightly because if you could get out with five strikes, that's where I was. I'd say in there was strike one and a half.

After the game, I managed to remember to pick up my personalized bat (everyone needs a thinking bat - especially a personalized one - and yes, I use one all the time). At this point, we somehow manage to make it to the car and I think I threatened to use my bat a couple of times, but I didn't swing it. I promise.

I think.

Ends up that Sarah had to drive because she was quite sober. Unlike the Jackie and I.

I should also mention a few other things. I have been warning the two of them about my legendary tolerance. Most of you who read this blog are well aware of it. It takes me gallons to get drunk. And Jackie was saying at the beginning of the game, "Can I please get you drunk once?" I said, "If you're buying, then hell yes."

I just didn't think it would be the same night.

I should also mention that besides not really knowing how much I drank (five? six? seven?), that I had nothing in my stomach but a SLIM JIM. One of the few things I could buy at the gas station.

So we decided to go to the Papermoon Diner near where I lived for a summer. Somewhere in there, I drunk dialed Fabs to say hello. We were conversing just fine and Sarah and Jackie were yelling at me for directions (they didn't trust me) and in between telling them to trust me, I think I might have made reference to the bat in my possession again. I still didn't swing it, no worries.

We got there just fine (I told them to trust me) and went in. It was at this point that I drunk dialed Matanya Zarga and proceeded to have a totchy conversation. I was feeling sober again. Until I ate what were probably the best nachos EVER and some great ravoili. I was hoping the turkey powerhouse would do the trick and after eating half of it, we got back into the car.

It was at this point that I realized that the nachos weren't sitting well. Must have been the cheese and sour cream. The turkey powerhouse was just fine, it was doing it's job of soaking up the alcohol well. I give kudos to the sunflower bread for knowing it's role in my digestive tract last evening.

So I decided to lay down. I was giving directions as I laid in the seat. Sarah said she wanted to hear Eminem, which suited Jackie just fine since she hearts Eminem. So I was laying there, trying to just close my eyes and stop the world from spinning, which is very difficult to do in a moving vehicle. I should also mention that part of the reason for me lying down was because I felt like I was leaning forward when I was sitting upright which wasn't helping me at all.

I was getting the feeling that I had been in this situation before. My 21st birthday. Also in Baltimore. Why am I always wasted in that city?

So with Jackie singing Eminem and yelling at me intermittently to make sure I was awake, I was feeling them nachos in a ball in the pit of my stomach. No good can come out of that, no matter how hard you will it away.

We got to Jackie's in one piece and as soon as I sat up, I knew things were not okay. I was getting the dry mouth but the spitting, which is a sure-fire sign that something was going to give. I took my time, moved slowly. I grabbed my things and as we were walking to the car, I couldn't help it - it just went.

So Fab was correct. Strike three: projectile vomitting on the lawn of the State Director for Delaware United.

It wasn't really that bad - it was a turn the head, there it's over, let's go home kind of deals. It's always like that for me. I don't know why. Either way, it was the only thing holding me back from sobriety. Once it happened, it was like, "Ah! That was fantastic! I feel better!"

Seriously.

Sarah and I drove back to my heezy where we proceeded to then pass out. I woke up refreshed this morning.

This, friends, is why I am the totchest ever.

And now, lessons from last evening:
1. Baseball games where everyone is stranded on base for the first five innings go much faster when you drink.
2. However, moderation is key.
3. Just because it's the seventh inning and it's last call, it doesn't mean that you should buy the beer guy out of all the beer he is carrying.
4. Just because you spill half of a beer when getting up to cheer doesn't mean that you have to chug it if you still have three in your hand.
5. Drinking faster does not make the eighth inning go faster.
6. Buying a personalized baseball bat is not a good idea if you are wasted. I didn't use it, though. Let's remember that.
7. Cheese and sour cream are not good on a drunk stomach.
8. Eating something besides a slim jim and salad is a good rule of thumb if you go to a baseball game to watch teams you don't care about.
9. Offer to hose down your coworkers yard after an evening like last night.

and finally:

10. Do this with coworkers that are awesome because otherwise, work would be hell.

We're so doing this again next week. Ha.