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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

Now the story you have all been waiting for...

There needs be no explanation as to why Volansky is the god of my idolatry - she's just that cool. But she became my celestial orbit after this past Monday because of the following story. I won't bastardize it with my words or anything, I shall let the Volansky simply speak for herself. She need not me to impose. All of this has made me come to a very important conclusion:

I want to be Volansky when I grow up.

Without further ado:

hello again, friends,

so, some of you asked for a report after the rove talk and so, i am here to happily comply.

in the interest of "full disclosure," the topic of the talk was "politics and a polarized press in the age of bush." all of your questions, while a TAD heavy on the "do you know you are satan?" theme, were truly extraordinary and will serve as the basis for a book i plan on writing sometime down the road. i also didn't get to ask them, as we ("the faculty") were encouraged to allow our students to ask the questions. i have a list of the questions, for those of you who are interested. i should also say that i was in full "cocktail party mode" and was NOT as heavy-hitting as i should/could have been. i finnagled this invite to investigate how those in power use it in social settings. so, beat me about the head if you'd like -- i was there to play.

before i begin the play-by-play, i have to tell you all that, when i returned home tonight, i was met by THREE emails from the SGA president-elect, who is a drama major and who i have in class. the topic of each email was "you rattled him, i don't know how you did it, but you rattled him." so, i have a small sense of accomplishment.

okay, so i was hanging around the cocktail party (sidebar: not enough food, but the "jumbo shrimp" was swell...) and THE MAN HIMSELF walked in. he was cool and cavalier and was with his female handler, as well as the dashing john harwood, our gracious host and son of the deeply respected (and dead) dick harwood, late late of the washington post. rove wandered around a bit, shook the hands of some serious white haired rich republicans and was introduced to a number of the students who were there. i was with one of my favs, a senior drama/poli sci major from india. my colleague introduced her to rove and she and another student talked a bit until a bossy, schmoozy white haired insinuated herself into the conversation, bringing along an underage daughter (student and drinking). i stood behind rove for a while and when i sensed a break in the conversation, the following ensued:

mv: (tapping "the architect" on the back) thank you so much for coming to chestertown, mr. rove. i have to say, it was all i could do to physically restrain myself from grabbing your ass.

rove: who are you?!

mv: i'm michele volansky. i'm an alum, a dramaturg and a faculty member here at washington's college.

rove: what do you teach (sidebar: he wouldn't let go of my hand...)?

mv: drama.

rove: well, that makes sense. you are a drama queen. (turning to handler) make sure she is ALWAYS in my line of sight.

mv: so, my question is this -- do you have an inside line on who will be elected pope? (rove then grins, wiggles his eyebrows and nods his head) well, i guess you won't tell the likes of me...

he then moves along, gesturing that i remain in his field of vision (i am NOT making any of this up), shakes some more hands and then comes back to me.

rove: i want to make sure i always know where you are. so, stay in front of me, will you?

there's some more schmoozing and i then i think that i should have him sign something, so i go over to him and say:

mv: will you sign my invite?

rove: for you, anything.

so, he signs my invite, which i have in my possession. it says, "you scare me. karl rove"

i say to him: i could sell this on ebay, you know.

rove: you should. it's a free country.

mv: well, it is NOW. what about later?

he is then hustled away.

the talk goes on. he lies about no child left behind, social security and the "oppositional press"

as i said before, i didn't ask a question.

but, he was sitting on the edge of the stage, i walked by and waved. he grabbed my hand again, shook it and said, "it was a great pleasure meeting you, michele. good luck with everything."

that's all i got.

if anyone wants to see the signature, let me know.

he is truly impressive. and completely and utterly satanic. he's so good.

those of us in this crowd have a LOT of work to do before we find someone as clever as he is to orchestrate my presidential campaign.

so, friends, get to work.

much love,

volansky

Now the real truth comes out. I'm totally suing this woman for making me hurl unnecessarily.

Woman who claimed to find finger in chili arrested

SAN FRANCISCO, California (AP) -- The woman who claimed she found a well-manicured finger in her bowl of Wendy's chili last month was arrested Thursday night in Las Vegas, police said.

Anna Ayala was taken into custody at her home, San Jose police spokesman Enrique Garcia said. He said police would not give any details until a news conference Friday afternoon. Las Vegas police also refused to comment.

The arrest is the latest twist in the bizarre case about how the 11/2-inch fingertip ended up in a bowl of fast-food chili.

Ayala told police she found the finger March 22 while eating at a Wendy's in San Jose. She said she intended to sue but relented, claiming the publicity was too emotionally taxing.

When police and health officials failed to find any missing digits among the workers involved in the restaurant's supply chain, suspicion fell on Ayala, whose story has become a late-night punch line.

Ayala has a litigious history. She has filed claims against several corporations, including a former employer and General Motors, though it is unclear from court records whether she received any money. She said she got $30,000 from El Pollo Loco after her 13-year-old daughter got sick at one of the chain's Las Vegas-area restaurants. El Pollo Loco officials say she did not get a dime.

Earlier Thursday, Ohio-based Wendy's International Inc. announced it had ended its internal investigation, saying it could find no credible link between the finger and the restaurant chain.

All the employees at the San Jose store were found to have all their fingers, and no suppliers reported any hand or finger injuries, the company said.

Sales have dropped at franchises in Northern California, forcing layoffs and reduced hours, the company said. Wendy's also has hired private investigators, set up a hot line for tips and offered a $100,000 reward for anyone who provides information leading to the finger's original owner.

Volansky is my celestial orbit and the god of my idolatry.

Three cheers to the woman to "rattled" Karl Rove on his visit to my alma mater.

I can give you specifics, but I shall wait until I have the green light.

Until then, know that Volansky is my hero. She rocks!

In the meantime, here are some quotes of the past weeks:

"I forget that I'm unforgettable."
-Jackie Lee, re: the gay waiter that hits on us everytime we walk into Buffalo Wild Wings in Bear, DE. He insists on remembering us. We insist he forgets.

"No, what is this?"
-Jackie, in reference to the chicken tenders at Camden Yards that was all breading, no chicken.
"$7.50?"
-Fabriana, in reply

It's been a crazy weekend to a hectic week.

Things are rather busy out here in the First State. Lots of stuff happening around work. So a little crazed.

This weekend was lots of fun, but I'm lots of tired. Big CBC, WC, and baseball weekend. Good to see everyone (and I mean everyone and their mother that traveled to C-town yesterday evening), awesome to work creatively with the CBC folks, and congrats to Dickert for the thesis being done! Can you believe that I've driven between Delaware and Maryland all weekend? I can barely fathom it myself and it all went by so fast. But hey, that's what happens when you work seven days a week and there's much going on in the evenings with all the things and folks you care about.

That's about it. Oh, and thanks to Baldwin for the Camden Yards tix. Because even when the Yankees lose, it's still a beautiful thing to watch. It was an absolutely gorgeous day and I got to spend it with two great people. That's the way to cap a rough week, go to the ballpark for a few hours with the State Director of the Coalition that you are working with and a best friend - on a completely gorgeous day - and you've got yourself an afternoon. Sure, the Yankees dropped a lot of games, but hell, it's only April and it is, what, the twelfth game? I'm not worried. At all. My boys know what to do. They just gotta work together and get it done. In the meantime, I'll enjoy catching a game when I can.

Doesn't hurt that we were right behind third base, close enough to see their faces. I sure did enjoy the sights of Jeter, A-Rod, Matsui, and Tino. Beautiful.

Now, it is resting time and I can be happy knowing I've had a good work week and an fantastic weekend. Who says you can't work and play hard at the SAME TIME? Huzzah.

Sorry, everyone, been ridiculously busy. But rest assured in knowing that as long as Dubya keeps on trying to screw us all and privatize everything including cooters, that I'm going to keep working hard to prevent it.

IN THE MEANTIME, more in the ever-evolving saga of the Wendy's chili finger:

New twist on finger found in chili
Officials doubt link between Wendy's discovery, leopard attack

LAS VEGAS, Nevada (AP) -- Authorities investigating the origin of a finger found in a California bowl of fast-food chili said Thursday they have uncovered no link to a Nevada leopard attack that cost a woman part of her index finger.

Nye County Sheriff Tony DeMeo said the chance of any connection is "diminishing." San Jose, California, Police Sgt. Nick Nuyo said investigators there were also skeptical.

Sandy Allman, 59, lost a 3/4-inch fingertip February 23 in the attack by a spotted leopard being kept at her home in rural Pahrump, about 60 miles west of Las Vegas.

Las Vegas resident Anna Ayala claimed she found a 1 1/2-inch fingertip on March 22 while eating at a Wendy's in San Jose.

"Obviously, if we have more of a finger than she lost, you might look at that on face value and say it's probably not the same," Nuyo said Thursday.

A lawyer for Allman had said that she wanted to participate in any DNA testing of the found finger. She said she last saw her fingertip packed in ice in a Las Vegas emergency room. Doctors told her it could not be reattached, and she does not know what happened to it after that, lawyer Philip Sheldon said.

The hospital said it cannot account for the missing fingertip.

Ayala was visiting relatives in San Jose and could not be reached for comment. Her attorney, Jeffrey Janoff, said Wednesday that she had decided not to pursue a lawsuit over the found finger because scrutiny by police and reporters had been "very difficult for her emotionally."

Court records show Ayala has previously made claims against corporations, including a former employer, General Motors and a fast-food restaurant.

Wendy's maintains the finger did not enter the food in its ingredients. It has offered a $50,000 reward in the case and was keeping open a hot line for tips, spokesman Denny Lynch said.

Okay. I saw some seriously funny stuff today.

For starters, I was in Philly for a spell earlier today. We protested Charles Schwab for their monetary involvement in the Bush Privatization proposal for Social Security. Nothing like a protest with lots of different unions, students, and random citizens off the street singing with signs and whistles. Ah! This is why I do this work. Love it.

This morning, I was in Wilmington for a breakfast. As we were leaving, we noticed a woman walking down the street with a bright green dress on. I tried so hard to get a picture with my camera, but I was too late. The thing is that she looked exactly like Mimi from the Drew Carrey Show. I am not lying. She had the makeup and everything - every detail. It was seriously funny shit.

Then, on the way to Philly, we were behind a truck with a bumper sticker that read: "A man and his truck. It's a beautiful thing." That could be classified under two headings in the file drawer: funny and sad. Both at the same time.

That's what you see when you get out of the office. Comedy.

Are you freakin' serious? I need to hurl...

MSNBC.com
Search continues for owner of missing digit
Wendy's fast-food restaurant patron found finger in bowl of chili

The Associated Press
Updated: 8:30 p.m. ET March 24, 2005

A woman bit into a partial finger served in a bowl of chili at a Wendy’s restaurant, leading authorities to a fingerprint database Thursday to determine who lost the digit.

The incident occurred Tuesday night at a San Jose Wendy’s restaurant and left the customer ill and distraught, said Joy Alexiou, a spokeswoman for the Santa Clara County Health Department.

“She was so emotionally upset once she found out what it was,” Alexiou said. “She was vomiting.”

Employees at the Wendy’s store were asked to show investigators their fingers after the Tuesday night incident. All employees’ digits were accounted for, officials said, adding that the well-cooked finger may have come from a food processing plant that supplies the company.

“All of our employees have ten digits,” said Denny Lynch, a spokesman for Wendy’s International Inc., based in Dublin, Ohio. He said there have been no reports to the Occupational Safety and Health Administration of injuries at any supplier of chili ingredients to Wendy’s.

“By law, you can’t hide that sort of stuff,” Lynch said. “All of our chili suppliers report no accidents.”

Investigators seized the remaining chili and closed the restaurant for a few hours late Tuesday.

Health officials said the fingertip was approximately 1½ inches long. They believe it belongs to a woman because of the long, manicured nail.

Alexiou said the woman, who asked officials not to identify her, is at minimal risk of contracting illnesses from the finger.

“It’s an extremely low chance because the chili was cooked at a very high temperature that would have killed anything in the finger,” Alexiou said. Still, she said health officials would ask the woman’s doctor to test her blood “to make sure nothing got passed to her.”

© 2005 The Associated Press. All rights reserved. This material may not be published, broadcast, rewritten or redistributed.
URL: http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/7285110/

Okay.

I wanted to rant on and on about this, but I decided that I don't really need to since it has been everywhere. But you know what? I can't leave it alone because this is so crazy.

But for the Christ, can we just let Terri Schiavo alone? Can we? This whole issue didn't need to be as public as it is. It happens ALL OVER THE COUNTRY. The poor woman has become a pawn in a discussion that really comes down to one thing:

The sanctity of marraige.

Funny I say that, isn't it? You know what, I'm gonna rant. There's politics and emotions and religion involved. And it's time to take them out of the discussion. I mean, I'm not a lawyer, but apparently, people think I am. And maybe it's because I think like one, but let's look at the legal argument, shall we?

In a case where there is no living will, decisions of life and death lie with the person closest to the person in question. The order usually runs: spouse, child, and then parent.

So legally, her husband has the right to make this decision. The parents are claiming that Terri has had her due process rights and violation of religious freedoms trampled on. I understand this, but I fail to understand how this would hold up in a court of law if she cannot even be aware of possibility of her rights being trampled on.

More than twenty courts have sided with her husband. The Bush brothers have intervened twice before. Congress, er, the Republicans, passed emergency legislation a few days ago to push the issue to the Federal Courts.

The courts, to their credit, have upheld the law. The Supreme Court did something smart and didn't take the case, despite the enormous pressure for them to do so. I'm happy they stuck to Marbury v. Madison and exerted their understanding of the law. After all, it's not like the Court would have decided to pick up the case if the U.S. Court of Appeals wouldn't. It's just not done. Besides, the argument that she has been denied proper due process and religious freedom is very difficult to uphold considering the state that Terri Schiavo is in.

Now I'm going to talk politics because this is the part that fascinates me.

Did you know that if the Republicans in Congress had actually screwed up the legislation? The legislation says that the district court has to determine whether the case has merit first and then provide relief if the court decided that the case had merit. Because if Congress had ordered the feeding tube to be connected before deciding if the case had merit would render the whole legislation unconstitutional because it would be the Legislative branch exerting their power over the Judicial.

But you're not hearing that from the Republicans, are you?

No, you're hearing them lament "out of control courts" and that the "courts ignored their intent". Um. Not really. The courts did what the legislation said. First, they determined whether the case had merit. And they decided that the case did not have merit, thereby nulling the second provision of the legislation. Had the Republicans been smart, they would have figured out a way to reinsert the feeding tube while the courts worked it out. They could have done it. But they are too connected to the Churches and the religious right to see clearly enough.

You know, I actually read yesterday that Dic...er, Rick Santorum (R - Sen. Douchbag Nozzle from PA) said, "In this case, saving Terri Schiavo's life is more important than the sanctity of marraige."

I'm serious. He said that.

I'm not going to say that the Democrats are not anywhere in here. In my opinion, they have smartly avoided this issue. But part of me longs for one of them to step in and say, "We are all saddened by this situation, but we firmly believe that this issue is between the family and politics should be far removed from the situation."

But no one wants to even stick their neck out and say it because some Republican will attack them for politicizing the situation. Though the Bush Tag Team has been all over this issue, intervening and doing whatever they can to get the issue in the open.

And for the gajillionth time in a month, I have wondered why the Republicans are getting away with all of this. Because they would prefer skewing the argument to whatever benefits them best. Talk about flip-flopping. It's not okay for two men or two women to marry for the sanctity of marraige, but when a husband has the legal right to decide that the time has come for his ailing and barely cognizant wife, the sanctity of marraige is no longer valid. It's okay for us to save someone in a state like Terri Schiavo, but not okay for us to continue funding programs that provide relief for millions of low-income Americans, children, and families (I'm talking Medicaid amongst other things). I could go on forever here, but I'll stop there.

Who do they think they are kidding? You cannot have it both ways. You cannot even define when life begins and life ends. I mean, they want to preserve life and describe life beginning the minute you meet someone and may or may not decide to copulate with them. They say that if a machine can sustain your life, you should stay on it forever. Yet, they'll do everything they can to screw with you between those times - from the moment you're born to sustained living in a nursing home or hospice.

You know, I'm not going to lie. I'm not going to say that I think Terri Schiavo should live or die. Because that's not my decision to make. I feel incredible sadness at her situation. Not many people are aware, but my cousin in the Philippines suffered from a anuerism of the brain when he was just thirteen and he is still alive. The difference between my cousin and Terri Schiavo is the simple fact that he doesn't need a machine to determine his life and death. He may not be able to feed himself, but he doesn't have to rely on technology to keep him alive. He cannot really speak, either. But he communicates. He listens. He watches you. He plays with you. And while Terri can do that - according the the news - once again, he is not hooked up to a machine. I don't pray very often, but I pray for him. And he has shown improvement over the years. So I have a very good understanding of what her family and friends are going through. But god help me if I ever had to face anything like that with my spouse.

At some point, one has to say enough is enough. One has to know when it's time to go. I was reading earlier that her husband wants to have her cremated and buried near Philly in their hometown. Her family will probably fight that because they are going to argue that as a Roman Catholic, Terri wouldn't have wanted to be cremated.

I want them to cremate her and spread her ashes over the sea so that she can finally be free and no longer belong to anyone anymore.

No matter what, I hope that she may find peace. And that we will stop making politics out of it and point fingers. Because in the end, this is about Terri Schiavo. And she is being forgotten in the midst of all of this. And that is the saddest part of all.

Boy, we were loopy.

This is the quote of the week:

"I saw they had computers with that new biometric stuff, you know, where you have fingerprint identification? Well, I was thinking, what happens if something awful happens and you lose a finger? You wouldn't be able to sign into your computer - on top of not having a finger. That would be a really shitty day!"
-Lindsay "Drama Mama" Krieg

The quote of last week:

"I find it so funny that you are my reflection."
-Phil, who happens to be very tall and white to me, who happens to be very short and brown

And the quote of the week before:

"I say that you go kick some midget ass!"
-Liz "NBS" DelloRusso after I told her that I was legally allowed to participate in the Midget Olympics because the cut-off is 5', which I happen to be. Exactly. Hmm.

Only in New York.

So yesterday, I was in the city for Selection Day for the Coros when I was driving a carload of us back to Manhattan before heading back home.

When we stopped at Gramercy Park where Sarah (the Heezy) lived to wait for her boyfriend, I was watching the door of her apartment building.

Suddenly, some older gentleman wearing sweatpants and a light jacket comes out the front door, looks up and down the street, and then proceeds to unscrew the lightbulb from one of those "porch light" things used to light the doorway for the building inhabitants.

He didn't touch the other light, but just as quickly as he came out of the building, he went back in.

Incredulously, I turned to Heezy and asked, "Did you see that?"

She saw the last three seconds of it.

We must have laughed for at least three minutes before the guy was suddenly at the door again, but this time to close the door and look suspiciously out the glass door.

Um, yes. Someone saw you snag that lightbulb. If a lightbulb in your apartment goes out, you could have walked the twenty extra yards to the deli down the street where they sell them for that very reason!

The Heez and I got at least another five minutes of giggling amusement.

Sigh. Only in New York.

I miss it so much.

March means St. Patrick's Day. And that's fun. Not because I am Irish, which I am surely not - I don't want to confuse anyone who might be out there.

But it means that McDonalds has the Shamrock Shake. I had one for the first time in years today.

Yum.

That is all.

Being sick blows.

I somehow managed to get pretty sick this weekend. I mean, I had been feeling like I was getting sick and I knew it, but I didn't think it would hit me all at once.

I was in DC for training - and that was exhausting enough.

But on Friday at around 4, right when I finally got off the phone making work calls now that I've been hit with the work bat, I suddenly felt like a big piece of crap.

And I'm posting because something happened to me Friday night that has never happened to me before when I am sick.

So I did what only someone who thinks they have a head cold/flu/throat ache/ear infection does.

I slept.

A lot.

Drank lots of fluids, pumped myself with tylenol, grabbed the echinachea drops, hopped on the couch with a comforter, and passed out.

When I woke up, I was really sick. Fever. Chills. Sore throat. Starting to get the congestion.

So I then decided to take a shower. Get the germs off of me. It seemed to work.

When I was done, I headed back downstairs on the couch, presumably to sleep some more.

And then, for no apparent reason, I started crying.

Wha???

I was so freakin' sick that I started crying. Maybe it was out of frustration. But my head was so hot, my body was racked with chills, I started CRYING.

I think it was my head trying to release the heat from my body. It had to be. Because I wasn't emotional. But I was sitting there, tears streaming down my face, laughing at myself, and wondering what the hell was happening to me.

Anyone else have that happen before? Jesu-flips.

Been a while. Well, since I used to blog almost daily, it seems it.

I'm sure that the few folks I know that read this are probably annoyed. So, it seems time for me to post something new.

I will not regale you with the fantastically boring inner workings of my mind this week. Indeed, besides research and wringing my hands together over the status of my life so far, I think others would find it boring. And we're talking ho-hum boring.

So today, I wish to pass along a few thoughts that have been plaguing me whenever I turn on the news this week.

1. BTK. Freakin' creepy. Serial killers tend to have that affect. It's always the quiet ones. Church-going, family-man, seems to live by the rules guy. But crazy as a shit house rat. Every time I get a feeling of security, they find someone like this. The Christ.

2. Weather. Again, the snow issue is huge here. As a girl who loves snow, I would like to officially announce an amendment to my love of snow - I love snow in places where they know what to do with it. Out here, they have no idea. So I do not heart snow here.

3. The Oscars. It's about time they started to represent the diversity of the country. Chris Rock might be one of the few comedians who can get away with some of the things he says because we expect him to do it. Kudos to the Academy for putting him right up front. Jamie Foxx absolutely deserved the golden guy because he is mindblowingly fantastic as Ray Charles. Morgan Freeman finally got the award he deserved, and I can't believe that Annette Benning and Martin Scorsese got screwed again. Now that I know what an ass Leonardo is, er, Leonard as Adam likes to call him - I can't stand watching him. Cate Blanchett is awesome and I'm just pissed that "Finding Neverland" got nothing. They and "Sideways" (so I'm told - I still need to see it) got robbed. ROBBED.

4. I still don't get republicans. At all.

5. Social security is NOT in a crisis. Yet. But for chrissake, will some news source please do an independant report on social security so that people aren't swayed by words like, "Individual/Personal Accounts"? I'd like to think that you can only dupe the country once, but it looks like Bush is banking his place in history on it. All I think about when I see him on the news is that whole bit of banter between Michael Douglas and Michael J. Fox in "The American President" -"Lewis, we've had Presidents who were beloved, who couldn't find a coherent sentence with two hands and a flashlight. People don't drink the sand because they're thirsty, Lewis. They drink it because they don't know the difference." Is that what we've become? I fear it every day.

6. I actually feel for Paris Hilton over this hacked cellphone thing. Because honestly, can anyone really be mad at her for having all of that information in her cellphone? Honestly? Take out your cellphone, folks. Check that address book 'o yours. Do you have it written somewhere else? Do you have the numbers committed to memory? Yeah. Thought so. I mean, I purposely got a palm pilot that wasn't a cellphone because if i lost it, I would be screwed. I figure that if something happens where I lose one, I still have the other. So should celebrities be surprised that she had all of that information on her sidekick? I think not. The lesson here is that he/she who lives in glass houses shouldn't give their personal email or number to Paris Hilton. Or something like that. Ridiculous.

7. I DON'T CARE ABOUT JEN AND BRAD. Much. Leave them alone, for crying out loud. It's hard enough to deal with a divorce.

AND FINALLY...

8. Jacko. You know, I think the real tragedy of the Michael Jackson case is that no member of the current generation will remember him for his music. They'll never know how cool it was growing up, imitating the moonwalk, wearing the red leather jacket with the glove, hiding every time "Thriller" came on MTV - when MTV used to play videos, and hope and pray that they would show "Smooth Criminal" again. Remember when "Black or White" came out and everyone was talking about the end of the video when the people morphed into each other? I mean, he had some real musical genius there. "Don't Stop 'Till You Get Enough", "Man in the Mirror", "I Just Can't Stop Loving You" - these were songs our generation grew up with. Until the weirder Jacko emerged and he decided to continue with his plastic surgery, become whiter by the years, marry Lisa Marie, insist that the white-skinned children with blonde hair were his, call his child "Blanket", dangle a baby from a balcony, and turn into the freak he probably was afraid of. Someday they will make a film about Michael Jackson around the lines of "The Aviator" and we will revel in this man's downfall. But in the meantime, I plan on just taking out HIStory and listening.

Yeah. Does anyone else feel like they're in the twilight zone? I sure as hell do. Though I can't really tell if that's because of the news or Delaware. But whatever.

Okay.

I come from the land of snow. Anyone who is from Upstate New York will concur: four inches of snow is practically light rain. Anyone from FMHS will probably nod and tell you that a WALL of snow, ice, and hail would probably still mean that we had to go to school - and no hope of a snow day except to pray for an hour or two delay.

Now I understand that parts of this country just aren't equipped to handle snow. And I'm sure folks who actually voted for George W. Bush will say that snow in Alabama is a freak coincidence and that global warming just doesn't exist.

But for people in the northeast in the mid-Atlantic region, we should at least have some sort of game plan, right?

RIGHT?!!

All of us well versed in what winter actually means would laugh when they would put sand on the snow at my college. Try salt. It works better. But we understood that in places that are older and sporting the ever-popular federalist architecture of brick, brick, and more brick, that sand was essential to upkeep on the bricks.

But explain to me how sand would be more effective on pavement than on brick.

The whole state is covered in sand. Then again, Delaware uses cement primarily for roads, but that's a whole other can of worms.

What's even more laughable is how they move the snow around. When that foot or so fell on Delaware, it looked like they strapped shovels to trucks going 15 down my street. Even in New York City, they got the trash trucks to get the industrial shovels and clear that shit. You'd think that in a place where there are more trucks than people that they might have figured that out.

I was one of two people in the office today, presumably because of the snow. I could have left early. I didn't. I actually got a good amount done today. It wasn't so annoying. Until I left the office to go to the mall to return my guitar cable for my ibook, peruse the new mac minis, and take a moment to wish that I had more money to buy the kind of equipment that I need to write the music for the CBC's upcoming show.

That's another story.

Needless to say, I've come home slightly pissed. But let me tell you why.

1. Most people used to snow will tell you - when you scrape the snow off of your car, it isn't just about the windows. Hit the lights, hit the tires, and for godssake, hit the roof of your car! I can't tell you how annoying it is to dodge chunks of wet snow from the car in front of me or not to be able to tell that the car in front is going to make a right hand or left hand turn.

2. If you are in a smaller car and you have problems with sliding, throw the car in a lower gear. The tire rotation slows down and you can get a better grip on the road. Sure, it takes up a little more gas, but you'll get wherever you're going in one piece. I promise.

3. If you are afraid of snow, don't stay in the left lane and go 25. It's freakin' annoying as shit.

4. If you aren't afraid of snow and the guy in front of me is going 25, don't tailgate me half an inch away from my car and flash the high beams. You can tell that there's a car in front of me because I've moved slightly to the right so that you can see them. And you know I can't get into the right hand lane to let you through because there's people going 20 there.

5. Shoveling your walkway is fine. Putting the excess snow into my freshly shoveled driveway isn't. Screw you.

As you can tell, I'm slightly peeved. I understand people's concerns, but c'mon. If you can't handle the snow, don't go out.

Finding myself back from the sunny land of Philadelphia this morning, I wish to talk about...

Public Restrooms.

This isn't because I came from Philly today after spending an evening assisting the Cardboard Box Collaborative in their newest show, Now Serving - which anyone in the Philly area really must go and see. It's actually held over from my weekend in NYC this past weekend.

Well, what I really wish to talk about is something more specific about public restrooms.

For starters, if you are lucky enough to go to a nice, decent restroom, chances are that you will encounter those toilet seat covers.

As the daughter of an infection control nurse, I can tell you scientifically and without a doubt that these are a very important and good invention.

Now I've found that if you are loitering around reststops on the highway or turnpike, these come very much in handy. At the same time, however, the thing holding them to the wall is cheap as hell. So you go ahead and pull on one to use it and the thing rips halfway in your hand. A little annoying, you go ahead and pull on another one...which rips in your hand. After about four tries, you're pretty damn near frustrated, and depending on your situation, perhaps edgy as hell because you need to use the toilet. Finally, you slowly pull out one and the other halves that have ripped off in your hand stream out at you like candy out of a pinata.

This isn't the only frustrating thing.

Then you go to put it on the seat. You carefully rip the center out of the rest of the cover, like you do - and so that you don't have the uncomfortable situation where you pee on yourself - and place it gently on the seat. By the time you undo your pants and go to sit down, the weight of the center dropping to the toilet water has pulled the back of the seat cover into the toilet and is slowly beginning to drag the rest of the cover into the toilet with it.

So you grab another one - which proceeds to rip in your hand. So you go through the whole process again...

...and again.

By the time you finally get it to stay on the toilet, you've got seven toilet covers on the seat, twelve ripped up in the toilet so that you can't see the water in the bowl anymore, and you've lost the urge to use the toilet.

Is anyone else slightly frustrated or at least mildly amused by this situation? I find it annoying as hell, but really funny now that I think about it. I mean, if you're afraid of germs (thanks, mom) like I am, toilet covers serve a very important function. If they could figure out a way to design it so that you only have to use one...