Thursday, May 19, 2005
Dave Matthews Band
I would like to bow down and officially worship DMB's new CD. If you are listening to it, doesn't it rock? If you haven't listened to it (C-Los), what in the world is wrong with you?
GO! Go get it NOW!
Wednesday, May 18, 2005
Okay, just one little preview.
So, I decided to give you guys a little something to tide you over for the weekend, and also to serve as a teaser for blogs to come.
And I know this is so wrong, but I am strangely proud of this particular tale. (To my parents: please pretend that you are reading about somebody else's daughter. It's funnier that way.)
The last time that I went to visit my friend she was in Washington, D.C. Referring to my friend as "my friend" is irritating, so I will call her Fun Trouble, FT for short.
Okay, so FT took me to this bar in DC that was very very old. The appeal to this bar is that you can make your own drinks. You give them money, and they give you all of the fixings for the drink, and off you go! FT and I were partaking of Captain Morgan and Coke. We were having a great time mixing up our drinks, and time passed at a rapid pace. Apparently in DC, the later it gets, the worse it is for people to be out. Well, that's the way I look at it anyway.
So time passes, and we finish with our drinks. We might have had a little too much of the Captain. You can decide.
We walk outside, completely oblivious. We try to cross the street so that we can catch a cab back home. As we are crossing the street, we start to notice some things. Like a jacket wadded up on the ground, with some blood on and around it. And then we noticed some flashing red and blue lights. And then we noticed the ambulance, and the yellow crime scene tape. And then we noticed the police officers coming at us and yelling that we weren't supposed to be walking through a crime scene.
CRIME SCENE????? How did that get there?
Where Did I Go?
Not to worry. I still exist. It's just that my life isn't as exciting as it was a couple of weeks ago. So, what's new? Not much.
My mother-in-law came up for a little visit this weekend. That was nice.
Hmm.... What else? Well, nothing! But, I am going to Boston this weekend to visit one of my college friends. We always manage to get into some kind of trouble, so I will be sure to write a post mortem!
Monday, May 09, 2005
Ladies and Gentlemen, We Have a New Plankiest!
Okay, so this weekend, the hotel that A and I stayed at will no longer be called anything except "The Plankiest." How did it achieve such a high honor? I will be happy to spill.
We checked in on Thursday. The check in process was mostly painless. We get our room keys and travel up to our room. I put the key in the lock, and the little green light flashes to let me know that I have been granted access to the room. So far so good. Only problem is, I can only open the door about an inch. Why? Well, they had this security bolt on the inside of the door, and it was activated. It was the kind that had a silver tongue on the door, and it fit into this track that was on the doorframe. So we called downstairs, and they sent up an engineer to fix it.
The engineer only took about 2 minutes to get there, but then when he found out what the problem was, he was mystified. He actually looked at us accusingly, like we enjoy locking ourselves out of our rooms just so he can come up and fix it. Sorry for wasting your time buddy. We will try to be smarter next time and predict whether the bolt is on the door or not.
We finally get into the room, and A goes to use the bathroom. When she lifted up the toilet seat cover, she discovered some kind of brown liquid on the toilet seat. Can anybody say "ewwww?" Sick.
So then she tries to use the phone to call someone to come clean our toilet. One small problem however, the phone doesn't work. Well that's okay, we'll use the other phone. Uh, wrong answer! The other phone doesn't work either. So we are mad. Mad, I tell you.
We go back out to the hall, call the front desk again, demand a different room, and ask them what in the world we are paying all of this money for. (Okay dad, I can hear you now. "Whose money?" Yes, that's right, yours.) But anyway.
Then, yesterday, we checked out of the hotel. So far so good. I handed the valet guy our slip, and he went and got our car. Then he loaded all of our luggage in the trunk. I tipped him, and went over to the driver's side to open the door. One small problem, it was locked. When I informed the valet guy that the door was locked, he asked me if I was kidding. It was about 8:20a.m. Let me tell you kiddies, at 8:20a.m. I do not have a sense of humor. So I informed him that I was indeed not kidding, and to fix this problem.
A and I start having panic attacks, because we do not want to miss our flight. Sort of justifiable, right? About an hour later, the locksmith shows up to unlock the car. Then we speed out of there like there is no tomorrow. But between the time that the valet guy locked the keys in the car and the locksmith freeing the keys to the car, the staff at the front desk were surprisingly unsympathetic. Grrrr.
So the moral of the story: Don't stay at "The Plankiest."
Wednesday, May 04, 2005
Unreality
There is only one person in the entire world (okay, I take that back:2) who will understand what I am saying in this entry.
I have a dream. I had an opportunity to have this dream fulfilled last weekend. It did not happen. Why? I'm not sure, but I think after reading this blog, said dream-crusher will come forth with an explanation.
A certain friend of mine (a.k.a. dream-crusher) was going to a certain city with a certain prestigious university. After dropping subtle hints, I convinced her to try to convince a family member who works for said prestigious university to pick up a certain article of clothing for me.
This, apparently, did not happen. So what did happen? Hmmm?
Oh, and for the emotional trauma that will be caused to said friend, (dream-crusher), I apologize. To compensate you, you may now use the term "dream-crusher" for any future plans that you may have to become a professional wrestler. Hee hee.
Monday, May 02, 2005
I am a GIRL!!!!!!!
GRRRRRR. This weekend my femininity came into question. And I let some people get the best of me that shouldn't have been able to.
Okay, so my dad and I are at O'hare, and we are waiting for the flight that is going to take us to a conference that we were attending. We had a couple of hours to kill before the plane left, so I decided to go wander around the airport. I happened to wander into Brookstone to see what kind of cool gadgets they had. I love Brookstone, because they have all of the furnishings that I would need if I didn't live in the real world. You know what I am talking about, right? Like the portable air ionizer that you can wear on a lariat around your neck. Just so you don't have to breathe the same air that everybody else does. Or the clock whose digital display scrolls across a clear glass globe. I'm not sure that there is anything that man can create that would make me happy to see my life ticking away. I don't care how fancy the readout is.
So anyway, I was wandering around, and this Brookstone girl comes up to me and says: "Is there anything that I can help you find, SIR?" Thinking about this question now, I should have said "Yes, the exit." But of course I didn't think of that at the time, I just got embarrassed and basically ran out of the store. Oh, but she did correct herself. Just so you know it did register with her that I was actually of the female persuasion. And to her benefit, she did look pretty embarrassed about it. But still.
Then, at the conference, one of the people came up and asked if I was my father's son. SON. Now, one episode of this happening is not a big deal, right? But two, in one weekend? That is definitely a blow to the self-esteem. And here's the thing about me, I am not a Pat from SNL. Most of the time people do not have any problem discerning my gender. But, if for some reason there is an issue of deciding which side of that line I fall on, I try to make it easy for them to guess. For example: I carry a PINK purse. I usually wear bright colors. I have lots of pretty jewelry that I put on display. Oh, and I walk like a girl and talk like a girl. Maybe I need to wear a sign. "AM A GIRL."
Phew. I don't know. People are just crazy I guess.