This weekend proved to be a tad surreal. On one hand, the old familiar framework was in place: attempting to sleep late while Freyja pawed at my covers and Plath screamed in my ear; working on freelancing for hours on end; watching Netflix DVDs; and exchanging messages on Facebook. On the other hand, it also involved a bounty of two activities that I almost never do: drinking and socializing.
On Friday afternoon some coworkers and I went out for a long al fresco lunch and each of us enjoyed a glass of sangria while there. Pretty tame, admittedly, but it’s also like, Ohmigod! We’re drinking! On our lunch break! And then we have to go back to work! Ohmigod, we’re so scandalous! Sometimes being a stodgy old fogey is just grand.
On Friday night I was off to a coworker’s farewell party—which also turned into an early Oktoberbest celebration (at least in name). I had some bottles of English cider left over from the Princess Diana death anniversary party, so I took those along and some people were really excited about it. I grabbed one of the bottles for myself and enjoyed my time with the assemblage of coworkers and significant others who were there. The weather was great and it was a perfect evening to hang out under the party lights and trees. One of the benefits to parties thrown by my coworkers: all the food is vegetarian. In fact, the hostess of this particular party even labeled which dishes were vegan versus vegetarian. I love it.
Last night I helped another coworker belatedly celebrate her birthday. We had dinner at a Mediterranean restaurant we discovered in Georgetown two years ago, then spent a bit of time drooling over all of the unattainable goods in Anthropologie. Although talking myself out of buying a gigantic metal J for $98 wasn’t too difficult, talking myself out of buying a tabletop metal and wood J sculpture thingy for $28 was a lot more difficult. Oh how I coveted that damn thing! But sanity prevailed in the end, disappointingly. Afterwards we headed to Strike Bethesda, as she really wanted to go bowling (which would also mean kicking my ass at bowling, because let’s face it—I’m not exactly athletic). Once we got there and saw how ridiculously high the prices were ($35.95 for one hour’s use of a lane? Come on!), we decided to scrap our plans.
On a whim we headed over to Dave & Buster’s in Rockville. We had drinks, played the various games (well, Susan did, anyway—I was too cheap!), and stalked a hot gangly nerd. As always, Susan questioned my taste in men after I furtively pointed him out to her (not that he would’ve noticed—he was way too engrossed [one could even say to an obsessive degree] with the interactive Police 9-1-1 game). Based on my ragtag assemblage of geek crushes, I suspect the girl basically thinks I’m a nutcase...and perhaps she’s right. After we got tired of stalking him, we hit the road.
Also? I’m totally freaking the fuck out about this house situation. I just don’t know what to do. I can’t decide if I can make that monthly mortgage payment work. I can’t decide if buying this house will be the stupidest move of my life (because I may not be able to afford it, and house prices may continue to decline, so if I just wait for a few more weeks/months, I may be able to find a more affordable home) or if it will be the smartest move of my life (because no better properties at that price will appear, and passing on this house means passing on my one chance to have a decent home at a semi-affordable price). I analyzed my monthly expenses to within an inch of their life, cut costs from them as much as possible, and poured over my freelance earnings for each month during the past two years to try to figure out how much they could save my ass if I buy this house. I’ve become an old pro at fretting and wringing my hands while being completely paralyzed with indecision.
Long live the joys of adulthood.
song heard most recently before posting:
Symphonic Dances, Op. 45: Non allegro—Sergei Rachmaninov
Sunday, September 23, 2007
Sunday, September 16, 2007
Why can't buying a house be so much easier?
This house-hunting thing and mortgage-shopping thing has become the bane of my existence.
Thus far I’ve spoken to four respectable lenders (as compared to potentially dodgy lenders on the internet) and none of them have given me numbers I can deal with. I can’t pay $1,500-1,600 a month for a mortgage. I just can’t. So logic says, “Okay, you’ve held on for this long; why not just keep waiting until housing prices drop further?” Yes, I’m paranoid that there’s going to be another housing boom and I’ll lose my chance to buy a place, but I recognize that it’s not a very realistic fear. Everyone on the news is saying that prices will continue to drop for another year or so; although they might just be panicmongers, there’s really no reason for me to not believe their core message, just like there’s no reason for me to think that interest rates will suddenly skyrocket. My immediate problem is that I actually found a great house on Friday night.
We (my brother-in-law Bryan, my realtor Allie, and me) went to look at two houses in Frederick. The first house seemed okay on the outside. It looked like a relatively quiet, working-class street of duplexes. Allie told me it was highly Hispanic and I was like, “I don’t care. I just want to live somewhere quiet, where I don’t have to worry about hordes of people standing out on the street at night, talking loudly and playing music and whatever.” Really, my neighbors can be black, white, Asian, three-headed, whatever, as long as they’re not dangerous and/or noisy. In terms of race, ethnicity, and religion, all people are the same in my book.
The backyard was huge and had potential. The much-anticipated hot tub was a washout, though—it looked like something from a horror movie. The yard had two water features: a long, narrow, canal-like pond which looked like it might have a small waterfall mechanism, and a full-scale pond. It was massive! At first I was charmed by it but then I realized just how much work it would entail. It would need one or two pumps and god knows how much other maintenance in order to keep it from turning into a West Nile virus factory. Unfortunately, we couldn’t get into the house. The listing agent had warned Allie that the renting tenant might not let us in, and he was right. The house was dark when we arrived, the blinds were drawn, and no one answered the door. What the hell? Why isn’t the seller doing anything about that? When my previous landlord was selling his house, I had to let prospective buyers wander through my apartment no matter what time of day it was! Allie offered to come back and take digital pictures inside the house for me, which sounded good to me. But later Bryan—who had previously grudgingly admitted that the street didn’t look too bad—began saying how this neighborhood has the highest crime rate in all of Maryland—worse even than Baltimore and PG County. I was thinking, Uh, great. Well, if I’d really had a keen interest in the house, I possibly would’ve ignored his warnings. Or, I should say, I wouldn’t have taken them at face value. Instead, I would’ve done independent research to try to figure out just how unsafe the area is. But the thing is, I didn’t have a keen interest in the house. It was cute on the outside but it was too expensive ($190k) and the yard seemed too daunting. So I just told Allie to forget about taking the digital pictures for me.
The second house has so much potential. That’s the great house I mentioned earlier. Is it my dream house? No. It’s just a run-of-the-mill brick townhouse from the 1960s on an average street in Frederick. But the street seemed quiet and nice (granted, it was raining, so that could’ve kept the hooligans inside), and the house is next to a church, which gave me a strange feeling of safety, even though I’m completely areligious. Allie did a bit of research and found that there isn’t a lot of turnover in that neighborhood—people stay there for quite a few years. That’s a good sign. Plus, although the house has a HOA fee, I wouldn’t need to get homeowner’s insurance, which would save me money. Apparently with condos you only have to get renter’s insurance. I never knew that before.
The house itself was average but it was a perfect size for me. There’s a dining room, albeit one that’s basically part of the living room, and there’s also room for a table and chairs in the kitchen. There’s a half-bath downstairs and the basement is quite large. It has an unfinished section to serve as a laundry room and the finished section could serve as my storage area and as the place where I eventually put an exercise bike (I’ve decided that my lazy ass needs to get in some semblance of mediocre shape). The master bedroom had been split into two children’s bedroom with a makeshift picket fence (yes, an actual fence!) and the owner offered to either take it down to restore the room to its original state or put up a permanent wall to create two rooms. This would give me a guest room and an office. There are loads of closets—I was impressed by that. The house has a fenced in patio that would really be perfect for me. It’s small, but still big enough for a café table and chairs, a bird feeder, and lots of potted flowers. It would give the cats fresh air yet keep them safe, because the wooden fence is high.
Negatives: the appliances and windows are all quite old and would probably need to be replaced pretty soon, and for some inexplicable reason the central air doesn’t extend to the upstairs, so that would have to be done. Not just because I like it cool when I sleep, but also because it’s more energy-efficient. I mean, any air blowing downstairs is going to drift upstairs, which would keep the downstairs from getting very cool, and thus the a/c would pump harder to keep the downstairs cool. Aside from those things, though, the house is in good shape and would look splendid with wooden floors and my jewel-toned walls.
But at $179,500, I can’t afford it. That’s the bottom line. Even with getting two mortgages to keep PMI at bay, which would save me money, I can’t afford it. And that just makes me so incredibly sad, I can hardly bear it. Bryan thinks the pricetag is crazy and the house should only cost $165k at the most. But Allie said that a counteroffer should only go down to $175k. If it did go lower, maybe I could afford it. I don’t know. Maybe it’s worth trying? The seller almost had the house sold but the deal fell apart the day before settlement. He has already moved into a new house and wants this place gone so he doesn’t have to pay two mortgages. Maybe he’d be willing to settle for less money.
What else can I do? I’m going to contact a mortgage broker friend of Bryan’s tomorrow and see if I can magically get better numbers out of him. He’s a very nice, very honest guy; I got some decent numbers from him back in 2005 when I first started thinking about buying a house, and he did a fabulous job with refinancing Kristen and Bryan’s house twice. Maybe I’ll ask how much my monthly payment would cost if the house cost $165k, just in case. It probably wouldn’t be much lower, though. That’s the frustrating thing about mortgages: a price drop of $10k really makes no difference in your monthly payment.
This is all so close, and yet so very unreachable…
song heard most recently before posting:
Symphony No. 29 in A, K. 201, 1st movement—WA Mozart
Thus far I’ve spoken to four respectable lenders (as compared to potentially dodgy lenders on the internet) and none of them have given me numbers I can deal with. I can’t pay $1,500-1,600 a month for a mortgage. I just can’t. So logic says, “Okay, you’ve held on for this long; why not just keep waiting until housing prices drop further?” Yes, I’m paranoid that there’s going to be another housing boom and I’ll lose my chance to buy a place, but I recognize that it’s not a very realistic fear. Everyone on the news is saying that prices will continue to drop for another year or so; although they might just be panicmongers, there’s really no reason for me to not believe their core message, just like there’s no reason for me to think that interest rates will suddenly skyrocket. My immediate problem is that I actually found a great house on Friday night.
We (my brother-in-law Bryan, my realtor Allie, and me) went to look at two houses in Frederick. The first house seemed okay on the outside. It looked like a relatively quiet, working-class street of duplexes. Allie told me it was highly Hispanic and I was like, “I don’t care. I just want to live somewhere quiet, where I don’t have to worry about hordes of people standing out on the street at night, talking loudly and playing music and whatever.” Really, my neighbors can be black, white, Asian, three-headed, whatever, as long as they’re not dangerous and/or noisy. In terms of race, ethnicity, and religion, all people are the same in my book.
The backyard was huge and had potential. The much-anticipated hot tub was a washout, though—it looked like something from a horror movie. The yard had two water features: a long, narrow, canal-like pond which looked like it might have a small waterfall mechanism, and a full-scale pond. It was massive! At first I was charmed by it but then I realized just how much work it would entail. It would need one or two pumps and god knows how much other maintenance in order to keep it from turning into a West Nile virus factory. Unfortunately, we couldn’t get into the house. The listing agent had warned Allie that the renting tenant might not let us in, and he was right. The house was dark when we arrived, the blinds were drawn, and no one answered the door. What the hell? Why isn’t the seller doing anything about that? When my previous landlord was selling his house, I had to let prospective buyers wander through my apartment no matter what time of day it was! Allie offered to come back and take digital pictures inside the house for me, which sounded good to me. But later Bryan—who had previously grudgingly admitted that the street didn’t look too bad—began saying how this neighborhood has the highest crime rate in all of Maryland—worse even than Baltimore and PG County. I was thinking, Uh, great. Well, if I’d really had a keen interest in the house, I possibly would’ve ignored his warnings. Or, I should say, I wouldn’t have taken them at face value. Instead, I would’ve done independent research to try to figure out just how unsafe the area is. But the thing is, I didn’t have a keen interest in the house. It was cute on the outside but it was too expensive ($190k) and the yard seemed too daunting. So I just told Allie to forget about taking the digital pictures for me.
The second house has so much potential. That’s the great house I mentioned earlier. Is it my dream house? No. It’s just a run-of-the-mill brick townhouse from the 1960s on an average street in Frederick. But the street seemed quiet and nice (granted, it was raining, so that could’ve kept the hooligans inside), and the house is next to a church, which gave me a strange feeling of safety, even though I’m completely areligious. Allie did a bit of research and found that there isn’t a lot of turnover in that neighborhood—people stay there for quite a few years. That’s a good sign. Plus, although the house has a HOA fee, I wouldn’t need to get homeowner’s insurance, which would save me money. Apparently with condos you only have to get renter’s insurance. I never knew that before.
The house itself was average but it was a perfect size for me. There’s a dining room, albeit one that’s basically part of the living room, and there’s also room for a table and chairs in the kitchen. There’s a half-bath downstairs and the basement is quite large. It has an unfinished section to serve as a laundry room and the finished section could serve as my storage area and as the place where I eventually put an exercise bike (I’ve decided that my lazy ass needs to get in some semblance of mediocre shape). The master bedroom had been split into two children’s bedroom with a makeshift picket fence (yes, an actual fence!) and the owner offered to either take it down to restore the room to its original state or put up a permanent wall to create two rooms. This would give me a guest room and an office. There are loads of closets—I was impressed by that. The house has a fenced in patio that would really be perfect for me. It’s small, but still big enough for a café table and chairs, a bird feeder, and lots of potted flowers. It would give the cats fresh air yet keep them safe, because the wooden fence is high.
Negatives: the appliances and windows are all quite old and would probably need to be replaced pretty soon, and for some inexplicable reason the central air doesn’t extend to the upstairs, so that would have to be done. Not just because I like it cool when I sleep, but also because it’s more energy-efficient. I mean, any air blowing downstairs is going to drift upstairs, which would keep the downstairs from getting very cool, and thus the a/c would pump harder to keep the downstairs cool. Aside from those things, though, the house is in good shape and would look splendid with wooden floors and my jewel-toned walls.
But at $179,500, I can’t afford it. That’s the bottom line. Even with getting two mortgages to keep PMI at bay, which would save me money, I can’t afford it. And that just makes me so incredibly sad, I can hardly bear it. Bryan thinks the pricetag is crazy and the house should only cost $165k at the most. But Allie said that a counteroffer should only go down to $175k. If it did go lower, maybe I could afford it. I don’t know. Maybe it’s worth trying? The seller almost had the house sold but the deal fell apart the day before settlement. He has already moved into a new house and wants this place gone so he doesn’t have to pay two mortgages. Maybe he’d be willing to settle for less money.
What else can I do? I’m going to contact a mortgage broker friend of Bryan’s tomorrow and see if I can magically get better numbers out of him. He’s a very nice, very honest guy; I got some decent numbers from him back in 2005 when I first started thinking about buying a house, and he did a fabulous job with refinancing Kristen and Bryan’s house twice. Maybe I’ll ask how much my monthly payment would cost if the house cost $165k, just in case. It probably wouldn’t be much lower, though. That’s the frustrating thing about mortgages: a price drop of $10k really makes no difference in your monthly payment.
This is all so close, and yet so very unreachable…
song heard most recently before posting:
Symphony No. 29 in A, K. 201, 1st movement—WA Mozart
Monday, September 10, 2007
'round here, something radiates
Today is what I always refer to as my study abroad anniversary. In my head I never marked the day I actually landed in England (good thing, too, because it was September 11th); instead, I marked the day I left. It felt like such a monumental and massive point-of-no-return moment when, literally sobbing, I turned away from my family and friends at Newark Airport and began my long, shaky walk through the airline gate into the great unknown.
Some people argue that studying abroad really only matters if you’re in a place with a completely different language or culture, and England hardly falls into those categories. I’ll consent that studying abroad is more challenging in a Third World country or a country where a different language is spoken. But at the end of the day, this is what I think: going off to live in a different country when you’re only 20 years old is scary and brave in all circumstances. You’re leaving behind the comfort of friends, family, your college, your routines. And even Western, English-speaking London felt like a different world when it came to navigating its weird university system. There was a tough adjustment period and there were times when I wondered if I’d made a mistake. There were times when I really, really missed home and all my loved ones there.
Still, the listing ship of this experience righted itself in the end and I can now look back on my year abroad as one of the happiest times of my life. For someone like me—extremely shy, socially inept, almost paralyzed with clinical depression—what appeared to be the dumbest decision I could possibly make turned out to be the smartest. It set in motion the process of me emerging from my shell. It chipped away at my shyness and fear. I suppose one could even describe it as being my coming of age experience. I made some great new friends and finally found the Holy Grail I’d been seeking ever since I departed for my freshman year of college two years earlier: a normal college experience.
Scranton and I never gelled. While my senior year ended up being somewhat normal, thanks to my beloved David and wickedly fun Kara, my freshman and sophomore years were a wretched purgatorial state. I spent the bulk of them in quarantine, separated from the rest of the student body by a thick, sterile slab of shatter-proof glass. I didn’t connect with anyone and, coupled with my ever-present depression, I turned further inward to a degree where I was essentially a mute hermit.
Goldsmiths could’ve easily turned out the same way. I was resigned to the possibility that it might happen, and I consoled myself by saying, “Well, at least I’ll be in London.” Hey, being a social pariah isn’t so bad if you’re in London! It sure beats being a social pariah in Scranton, Pennsylvania, anyway! Still, there was a kernel of hope inside of me—one that whispered I think it might be okay.
And it was okay. Right off the bat I met Annida—still one of the most important people in my life—and we extended our social circle and had fun and soon I was tip-toeing my way through that dazzling Oz of normal college experiences. No, my time wasn’t spent drinking and snogging, and to that degree, I suppose my experiences weren’t completely normal. But suddenly I had friends hanging out in my room, walking to class with me, eating breakfast with me. Suddenly there were in-jokes and goofy photos and silly experiences. Suddenly I could write about more in my journal than just my ever-present angst and woe. These are all things that your average college student takes for granted, but for me they were as exquisitely, unexpectedly rare as spotting a unicorn while driving to the supermarket.
Goldsmiths is considered by many to be the UK’s leading creative university (especially in art, music, and design), and therefore, it was a perfect fit for me. Scranton, bless its heart, was a fundamentally white-bread school when I studied there. Its student body was primarily white and Catholic. The bulk of the students came from northeast PA, New Jersey, the Philadelphia area, and Long Island. There weren’t many other nationalities and ethnicities. Nearly everyone dressed the same: jeans, sweatshirts, baseball caps. Then I got to Goldsmiths and immediately met people from all over the world. On any given evening our table in the dining hall had students from Italy, Greece, Japan, France, Norway, and Malaysia plunking down or stopping to say hello. There were different races, languages, cultures. I saw pink hair, piercings, Mohawks, funky clothing. I was in heaven.
So today, 13 years after I carted my weeping, tremulous ass onto that Virgin Atlantic flight from Newark to Heathrow, I give thanks to Goldsmiths College and all it offered me. Long may she wave!
song heard most recently before posting:
Raining in Baltimore—Counting Crows
Some people argue that studying abroad really only matters if you’re in a place with a completely different language or culture, and England hardly falls into those categories. I’ll consent that studying abroad is more challenging in a Third World country or a country where a different language is spoken. But at the end of the day, this is what I think: going off to live in a different country when you’re only 20 years old is scary and brave in all circumstances. You’re leaving behind the comfort of friends, family, your college, your routines. And even Western, English-speaking London felt like a different world when it came to navigating its weird university system. There was a tough adjustment period and there were times when I wondered if I’d made a mistake. There were times when I really, really missed home and all my loved ones there.
Still, the listing ship of this experience righted itself in the end and I can now look back on my year abroad as one of the happiest times of my life. For someone like me—extremely shy, socially inept, almost paralyzed with clinical depression—what appeared to be the dumbest decision I could possibly make turned out to be the smartest. It set in motion the process of me emerging from my shell. It chipped away at my shyness and fear. I suppose one could even describe it as being my coming of age experience. I made some great new friends and finally found the Holy Grail I’d been seeking ever since I departed for my freshman year of college two years earlier: a normal college experience.
Scranton and I never gelled. While my senior year ended up being somewhat normal, thanks to my beloved David and wickedly fun Kara, my freshman and sophomore years were a wretched purgatorial state. I spent the bulk of them in quarantine, separated from the rest of the student body by a thick, sterile slab of shatter-proof glass. I didn’t connect with anyone and, coupled with my ever-present depression, I turned further inward to a degree where I was essentially a mute hermit.
Goldsmiths could’ve easily turned out the same way. I was resigned to the possibility that it might happen, and I consoled myself by saying, “Well, at least I’ll be in London.” Hey, being a social pariah isn’t so bad if you’re in London! It sure beats being a social pariah in Scranton, Pennsylvania, anyway! Still, there was a kernel of hope inside of me—one that whispered I think it might be okay.
And it was okay. Right off the bat I met Annida—still one of the most important people in my life—and we extended our social circle and had fun and soon I was tip-toeing my way through that dazzling Oz of normal college experiences. No, my time wasn’t spent drinking and snogging, and to that degree, I suppose my experiences weren’t completely normal. But suddenly I had friends hanging out in my room, walking to class with me, eating breakfast with me. Suddenly there were in-jokes and goofy photos and silly experiences. Suddenly I could write about more in my journal than just my ever-present angst and woe. These are all things that your average college student takes for granted, but for me they were as exquisitely, unexpectedly rare as spotting a unicorn while driving to the supermarket.
Goldsmiths is considered by many to be the UK’s leading creative university (especially in art, music, and design), and therefore, it was a perfect fit for me. Scranton, bless its heart, was a fundamentally white-bread school when I studied there. Its student body was primarily white and Catholic. The bulk of the students came from northeast PA, New Jersey, the Philadelphia area, and Long Island. There weren’t many other nationalities and ethnicities. Nearly everyone dressed the same: jeans, sweatshirts, baseball caps. Then I got to Goldsmiths and immediately met people from all over the world. On any given evening our table in the dining hall had students from Italy, Greece, Japan, France, Norway, and Malaysia plunking down or stopping to say hello. There were different races, languages, cultures. I saw pink hair, piercings, Mohawks, funky clothing. I was in heaven.
So today, 13 years after I carted my weeping, tremulous ass onto that Virgin Atlantic flight from Newark to Heathrow, I give thanks to Goldsmiths College and all it offered me. Long may she wave!
song heard most recently before posting:
Raining in Baltimore—Counting Crows
Tuesday, September 04, 2007
nature's bounty
I had a lovely time in Lebanon and greatly enjoyed our Princess Diana death party. Missy decided that she wants her funeral to be an exact replica of Diana’s funeral (minus Westminster Abbey and the zillions of TV viewers, of course), so we had fun planning that. Because that’s what normal thirtysomethings do on a Friday night—they sit around and plan their funerals. Thursday night, meanwhile, involved white trash karaoke and an 11pm trip to Wal-Mart. It was trashtastic.
After joining my grandfather for breakfast at Friendly’s on Saturday morning, I headed home to unpack, do laundry, work on freelancing, blah blah blah. I’d unfortunately forgotten to pack my Effexor when I left for PA, and I was really starting to feel the effects by the time I screeched into my driveway early on Saturday afternoon. Effexor is notorious for having a withdrawal symptom known in common parlance as “brain shivers.” Everybody seems to describe it differently; I find myself unable to describe it at all—it defies my capacity for language. All I can say is that it’s a very weird, unique, uncomfortable type of dizziness.
The weather was stellar all weekend so on Sunday morning I headed over to the US National Arboretum. I’d been there a few times in the past, but never with a digital camera. In the end I pulled some muscles and got some sunburn, but it was all worth it just to spend time in that beautiful place. My photos can be seen here.
My holiday was mostly spent watching DVDs, reading, and updating my website. It was wonderfully relaxing.
Some excellent links:
Beautiful, sumptuous bridal photos taken in a scene of breathtaking urban decay.
Fab design ideas.
I love altered books.
The #1 reason why my lazy ass needs to learn how to cross-stitch.
song heard most recently before posting:
You Don’t Know Where Your Interests Lie—Simon and Garfunkel
After joining my grandfather for breakfast at Friendly’s on Saturday morning, I headed home to unpack, do laundry, work on freelancing, blah blah blah. I’d unfortunately forgotten to pack my Effexor when I left for PA, and I was really starting to feel the effects by the time I screeched into my driveway early on Saturday afternoon. Effexor is notorious for having a withdrawal symptom known in common parlance as “brain shivers.” Everybody seems to describe it differently; I find myself unable to describe it at all—it defies my capacity for language. All I can say is that it’s a very weird, unique, uncomfortable type of dizziness.
The weather was stellar all weekend so on Sunday morning I headed over to the US National Arboretum. I’d been there a few times in the past, but never with a digital camera. In the end I pulled some muscles and got some sunburn, but it was all worth it just to spend time in that beautiful place. My photos can be seen here.
My holiday was mostly spent watching DVDs, reading, and updating my website. It was wonderfully relaxing.
Some excellent links:
Beautiful, sumptuous bridal photos taken in a scene of breathtaking urban decay.
Fab design ideas.
I love altered books.
The #1 reason why my lazy ass needs to learn how to cross-stitch.
song heard most recently before posting:
You Don’t Know Where Your Interests Lie—Simon and Garfunkel
Thursday, August 30, 2007
The Shuffler - vol. 2
Vol. 1 is here. The following songs were all belched out during yesterday’s evening commute and this morning’s commute:
What a Feeling – Heather Nova
On her Siren album this is second only to Winterblue as my favorite tune.
Oh Had I a Golden Thread – Eva Cassidy
One of my least favorite Eva Cassidy songs, actually, because the roller rink-esque organ music grates. But oh, that voice!
Uchu Ryoku – Yoko K.
Last year I went to a joint PostSecret/Found event and I thought the DC musician who performed the electronic background music for the PostSecret side of the show was just phenomenal. As soon as her CD was released by a local label, I snatched it up. This is a splendid groove from that album.
Upside Down – Tori Amos
Quite possibly my favorite Tori B-side. When I was at Goldsmiths I had Annida write my favorite line from this song (“I found the secret to my life: I’m okay when everything is not okay”) in calligraphy, and I hung it in my dorm room.
Running to Stand Still – U2
My favorite song from The Joshua Tree. I love the line “You got to cry without weeping, talk without speaking, scream without raising your voice.”
Schankheden – Swap
I really dig Nordic folk music, and this song in particular makes me want to get up and dance. So y’all better step back right now—you don’t want to lose an eye.
The Angel Song – Great White
Power ballads are so fabulously cheesy. Fallen angel ripped and bruised! Life is rude, treats you bad, tears your wings away! Hollywood ain’t paved with gold—it’s just a trick of light! A spider’s web of tangled lives lays stretched across the hills; from distances it’s glistening
like El Dorado’s halls! The streets are hard, they’re mean and scarred, where only fools find gold!
Vehicle – Bo Bice
I wish his post-American Idol career had been more fruitful. This is a fun tune and he has a nice voice, so where the hell is he?
Auf Achse – Franz Ferdinand
When I first heard them, they were the first new band I’d gotten excited about in a long time. This CD rocks!
Love Takes Over Me – Kylie Minogue
David, Kylie fan extraordinaire, exposed me to this great song.
Eye of the Tiger – Paul Anka
I just love Anka’s big band covers of ’80s and ’90s songs!
Love Montage (I Saw Him Once/In My Life/A Heart Full of Love) – Les Misérables
Aw, Les Mis. Fabulous musical. And fabulous book, too. I read the unabridged version on my own in 9th grade, then read abridged versions in my English and French classes later in high school.
Renaissance Affair – Hooverphonic
My first introduction to trance-pop. I miss your touch and your embrace…delicate and ethereal desire.
Meanwhile:
Missy and I have been raging Anglophiles lately, and I’m not quite sure what triggered this onslaught of fervor. Whatever the cause, tomorrow’s 10-year anniversary of Princess Diana’s death seems like as good an excuse as any to take the day off work and, with her Anglophiliac parents, be total dorks who spend the day watching Di’s funeral, reading Di memorial magazines, stuffing our gullets with British junk food, and watching her parents’ copy of Season 2 of Life on Mars. They have the capability of watching foreign DVDs, so they bought both seasons of Life on Mars from England. And since BBC America never bothered to play Season 2 of LoM, this’ll be my one chance to finally see it, while pounding back Ribena, choccie digestive biccies, Irn Bru, Heinz chocolate puddings, and more.
Viva la Britain!
song heard most recently before posting:
Renaissance Affair—Hooverphonic
What a Feeling – Heather Nova
On her Siren album this is second only to Winterblue as my favorite tune.
Oh Had I a Golden Thread – Eva Cassidy
One of my least favorite Eva Cassidy songs, actually, because the roller rink-esque organ music grates. But oh, that voice!
Uchu Ryoku – Yoko K.
Last year I went to a joint PostSecret/Found event and I thought the DC musician who performed the electronic background music for the PostSecret side of the show was just phenomenal. As soon as her CD was released by a local label, I snatched it up. This is a splendid groove from that album.
Upside Down – Tori Amos
Quite possibly my favorite Tori B-side. When I was at Goldsmiths I had Annida write my favorite line from this song (“I found the secret to my life: I’m okay when everything is not okay”) in calligraphy, and I hung it in my dorm room.
Running to Stand Still – U2
My favorite song from The Joshua Tree. I love the line “You got to cry without weeping, talk without speaking, scream without raising your voice.”
Schankheden – Swap
I really dig Nordic folk music, and this song in particular makes me want to get up and dance. So y’all better step back right now—you don’t want to lose an eye.
The Angel Song – Great White
Power ballads are so fabulously cheesy. Fallen angel ripped and bruised! Life is rude, treats you bad, tears your wings away! Hollywood ain’t paved with gold—it’s just a trick of light! A spider’s web of tangled lives lays stretched across the hills; from distances it’s glistening
like El Dorado’s halls! The streets are hard, they’re mean and scarred, where only fools find gold!
Vehicle – Bo Bice
I wish his post-American Idol career had been more fruitful. This is a fun tune and he has a nice voice, so where the hell is he?
Auf Achse – Franz Ferdinand
When I first heard them, they were the first new band I’d gotten excited about in a long time. This CD rocks!
Love Takes Over Me – Kylie Minogue
David, Kylie fan extraordinaire, exposed me to this great song.
Eye of the Tiger – Paul Anka
I just love Anka’s big band covers of ’80s and ’90s songs!
Love Montage (I Saw Him Once/In My Life/A Heart Full of Love) – Les Misérables
Aw, Les Mis. Fabulous musical. And fabulous book, too. I read the unabridged version on my own in 9th grade, then read abridged versions in my English and French classes later in high school.
Renaissance Affair – Hooverphonic
My first introduction to trance-pop. I miss your touch and your embrace…delicate and ethereal desire.
Meanwhile:
Missy and I have been raging Anglophiles lately, and I’m not quite sure what triggered this onslaught of fervor. Whatever the cause, tomorrow’s 10-year anniversary of Princess Diana’s death seems like as good an excuse as any to take the day off work and, with her Anglophiliac parents, be total dorks who spend the day watching Di’s funeral, reading Di memorial magazines, stuffing our gullets with British junk food, and watching her parents’ copy of Season 2 of Life on Mars. They have the capability of watching foreign DVDs, so they bought both seasons of Life on Mars from England. And since BBC America never bothered to play Season 2 of LoM, this’ll be my one chance to finally see it, while pounding back Ribena, choccie digestive biccies, Irn Bru, Heinz chocolate puddings, and more.Viva la Britain!
song heard most recently before posting:
Renaissance Affair—Hooverphonic
Tuesday, August 28, 2007
parlaying angst into fame
Back in February I submitted some old high school-era poems and journal entries to The Cringe Book, which will be published next year by Crown Publishing. I picked the worst of the worst: words laced with overwrought, morose, angsty, vaguely humiliating histrionics. Yesterday I received an email from the editor telling me that two of my journal entries have been accepted for publication and will appear in Melodrama section of the book. Awesome!
(And I know I shouldn’t laugh at myself, because, melodramatics aside, I really was critically, dangerously depressed, and that is a very serious issue. However...I just can’t help but chuckle at how maudlin I was about the whole thing!)
Anyway, the editor wanted me to write a few lines about the entries—basically my adult perspective on the entries I churned out as a teen. This is what I submitted to her:
Re: the June 20, 1989, entry:
Anne Frank inspired me to name all my journals, which is why this entry is addressed to a person. Because, after all, the petulant woes of a middle-class American teen are so similar to those of a Jewish girl forced into years of terrifying, rat-like hiding by a genocidal regime.
I was 15 when I wrote this entry; I thought I was terribly “deep” and had an “old soul” because I half-heartedly worried about the plight of Romanians and Ethiopians. But not enough to actually, like, donate my allowance to them, mind you.
Re: the February 14, 1991, entry:
Well, Happy Valentine’s Day 1991 to me! This entry perfectly illustrates an equation that even a math idiot like myself can understand: severe clinical depression + 16-year-old angst + self-absorption = overwrought histrionics.
I love how trivial things like quiz bowl and my high school musical rehearsals (as compared to, say, the Gulf War, which took place one month earlier) were the last straw—the catalyst for me crawling beneath my bed, weeping to the sounds of a Puccini tape, and renouncing at all. Motherfucking Mame sent me into a depressive tailspin. I love it.
song heard most recently before posting:
Sad Lisa—Cat Stevens
(And I know I shouldn’t laugh at myself, because, melodramatics aside, I really was critically, dangerously depressed, and that is a very serious issue. However...I just can’t help but chuckle at how maudlin I was about the whole thing!)
Anyway, the editor wanted me to write a few lines about the entries—basically my adult perspective on the entries I churned out as a teen. This is what I submitted to her:
Re: the June 20, 1989, entry:
Anne Frank inspired me to name all my journals, which is why this entry is addressed to a person. Because, after all, the petulant woes of a middle-class American teen are so similar to those of a Jewish girl forced into years of terrifying, rat-like hiding by a genocidal regime.
I was 15 when I wrote this entry; I thought I was terribly “deep” and had an “old soul” because I half-heartedly worried about the plight of Romanians and Ethiopians. But not enough to actually, like, donate my allowance to them, mind you.
Re: the February 14, 1991, entry:
Well, Happy Valentine’s Day 1991 to me! This entry perfectly illustrates an equation that even a math idiot like myself can understand: severe clinical depression + 16-year-old angst + self-absorption = overwrought histrionics.
I love how trivial things like quiz bowl and my high school musical rehearsals (as compared to, say, the Gulf War, which took place one month earlier) were the last straw—the catalyst for me crawling beneath my bed, weeping to the sounds of a Puccini tape, and renouncing at all. Motherfucking Mame sent me into a depressive tailspin. I love it.
song heard most recently before posting:
Sad Lisa—Cat Stevens
Friday, August 24, 2007
snow day in August
I got an unexpectedly free afternoon today. At around noon I heard a groaning noise as the ambient electronic noise in my office suddenly exhaled its last breath. Everything went dim and I heard periodic curses volley around the cube farm (many from myself, since I’d been working on some business cards in Quark and hadn’t saved my changes) as people realized, “Aw crap, the power’s out!” We have power surges every so often, and last week the power went out for a minute or so, but it’s never been like this.
We sat around and shot the shit for a while, speculating that maybe terrorists set off an EMP (okay, so maybe last bit wasn’t exactly a “we” but a “me”), then resigned ourselves to working on the few meager tasks that could be eked out with no computers and no bright light. Without tapping keys, clicking mice, humming dehumidifiers, ringing phones, and a/c blasting from the vents, the office was eerily quiet. The silence and low chatter was broken every few minutes by the abrasive and insistant beeping of our computers’ battery back-ups.
45 minutes later a coworker—serving as a kind of town crier (in lieu of a working PA system)—yelled out that everyone was supposed to gather in the atrium for a staff meeting. We found out that a generator had blown, plunging half the city into darkness. Since Pepco didn’t have a clue what caused the problem or when it would be fixed, we were all sent home. So, yay! A free afternoon! Thank you, baby Jesus!
song heard most recently before posting:
On—Bloc Party
We sat around and shot the shit for a while, speculating that maybe terrorists set off an EMP (okay, so maybe last bit wasn’t exactly a “we” but a “me”), then resigned ourselves to working on the few meager tasks that could be eked out with no computers and no bright light. Without tapping keys, clicking mice, humming dehumidifiers, ringing phones, and a/c blasting from the vents, the office was eerily quiet. The silence and low chatter was broken every few minutes by the abrasive and insistant beeping of our computers’ battery back-ups.
45 minutes later a coworker—serving as a kind of town crier (in lieu of a working PA system)—yelled out that everyone was supposed to gather in the atrium for a staff meeting. We found out that a generator had blown, plunging half the city into darkness. Since Pepco didn’t have a clue what caused the problem or when it would be fixed, we were all sent home. So, yay! A free afternoon! Thank you, baby Jesus!
song heard most recently before posting:
On—Bloc Party
Thursday, August 23, 2007
more questions & answers
Because it’s lunchtime and I’m bored!
Your SENIOR year of high school
1. Who was your best friend?
Heather
2.What sports did you play?
I had gold medals in melancholia and self-absorption.
3. What kind of car did you drive?
My mom’s car, when she let me use it (a 1991 Honda Civic).
4. It’s Friday night, where were you?
Hanging out with my friends, either A) cruising The Loop; B) sitting around my house, reading tabloids, and watching low-budget horror movies; or C) sitting around Missy’s parents’ house, reading tabloids, and watching low-budget horror movies.
5. Were you a party animal?
Did you not read my answer to #4?? Does it sound like I was a party animal?
6. Were you considered a flirt?
Hell no. I tried to be invisible around boys! (Except one particular crush, and even then I was too shy to flirt openly with him.)
7. Were you in band, orchestra, or chorus?
Not band or orchestra, but I was part of the chorus (ie, a background playa) in the school musical.
8. Were you a nerd?
Sho’ ‘nuff.
9. Did you get suspended/expelled?
Not my senior year! (I got suspended junior year, though.)
10. Can you sing the fight song?
Did we even have a fight song? Our mascot was a fucking cedar tree—not exactly a warrior!
11. Who was your favorite teacher?
During senior year…hmmm…probably Mme. Clements, my French IV teacher. I always thought she was pretty cool. And the guy who taught AP History (god, what was his name? Mr. Snavely?) was cool, too, because he had a wonderfully dry sense of humor. Oh, and even though he was tough as nails, I liked my Honors English teacher, Mr. Linn, because he was the only teacher who really attempted to prepare us for the academic rigors of college.
12.What was your school’s full name?
Lebanon High School
13. School mascot?
A cedar tree. Yes, a cedar tree!
14. Did you go to prom?
Yeah.
15. If you could go back and do it over, would you?
I don’t have a desire to go back and relive my senior year, thank you very much, although there were some fun moments.
16. What do you remember most about graduation?
How stupid it was that we were seated according to our height, instead of being put in alphabetical order. Also, I was thinking ahead to my 18th birthday (it came two days later) and Senior Week (which started one day later).
17. Where were you on senior skip day?
We didn’t have one. Although…I guess Missy, Gates, and I kind of had our own Senior Skip Day when we skipped school in order to attend this C.A.U.S.E. environmental fair thingy in downtown Lancaster.
18. Did you have a job your senior year?
Nope, thank god!
19. Where did you go most often for lunch?
The cafeteria. We weren’t allowed off-campus; I think they may’ve even locked the doors to keep us inside!
20. Have you gained weight since then?
I actually lost a bit weight, and stayed at that lower weight for a few years, but now I’d say I’m a good 15-20 pounds heavier than I was when I graduated.
21. What did you do after graduation?
My family had a small party to celebrate my graduation and birthday. Some friends stopped by, but most of our bigger, more official parties had taken place in earlier weeks. Afterward I went to bed, because I had to get up early the next day to leave for Senior Week.
22. When did you graduate?
June 2, 1992. I only remember the date because it was my friend Jenn’s birthday.
23. Who was your Senior prom date?
My friend Terry.
24. Are you going to your 10 year reunion?
I did go to my 10-year reunion and it sucked. Will there be a 15-year reunion this year? I don’t know. If there is, I don’t know if I’ll bother going.
25. Who was your home room teacher?
Oh god…I have no idea. Frau Toews, maybe? She was my homeroom teacher one year, and I think it may’ve been 12th grade.
Seasonal Survey
JANUARY-
1. Who kissed you on New Year’s?
My cat Plath.
2. Did you have a New Year’s resolution this year?
Nope. I gave them up a few years ago.
3. Does it snow where you live?
Yeah, but not a lot. I’d prefer more.
4. Do you like hot chocolate?
I love it. It’s my favorite hot drink.
5. Have you ever been to Times Square to watch the ball drop?
No, unfortunately. I’ve always wanted to do that. Spending two New Year’s Eves in London and ringing in the millennium at a huge downtown bash in DC whetted my appetite for Times Square.
FEBRUARY-
1. Who was your Valentine?
Myself. NEXT!
2. When you were little, did you buy Valentine’s for the whole class?
Oh yeah. Well...actually, I can’t remember if I gave them to everybody or just the kids I liked.
3. Do you care if the groundhog sees its shadow or not?
The whole thing is ridiculous. There are, like, stadium lights and spotlights and flashbulbs raining down on the groundhog from all directions; of course he’s going to see his shadow!
MARCH-
1. Are you Irish?
Partially; my dad’s maternal line came from the little village of Butlersbridge in County Cavan.
2. Do you wear green on St. Patty’s Day?
[junior high voice]No. That’s gay![/junior high voice]
3. What did you do for St. Patty’s Day in 2007?
Nothing but the usual: work, work, work.
4. Are you happy when winter is pretty much over?
I love winter, but by March I’m usually ready for spring. Not the hot weather, though.
APRIL-
1. Do you like the rain?
Yes. But not flooding!
2. Did you play an April fool’s joke on anyone this year?
I hate April Fool’s jokes. I know: killjoy.
3. Do you get tons of candy on Easter?
Not anymore—I did when I was a kid. But I still treat myself to loads of Marshmallow Peeps and Cadbury Mini-Eggs each year.
4. Do you celebrate 4/20?
What the hell’s 4/20? Besides the Vernal Equinox (on some years)?
5. Do you love the month of April?
It’s okay. There’s nothing big to look forward to, but the schizophrenic spring weather is usually calming down by this point, so that’s nice.
MAY-
1. What is your favorite flower?
Heather.
2. Do you like the spring?
I do, actually. It’s not my favorite season (I prefer fall), but it can be so lovely and wild, I can’t help but be impressed.
3. Finish the phrase “April showers”:
“…usually flood my apartment.”
4. Do you celebrate May 16th: National Piercing Day?
If I had any unusual piercings I might!
5. Is there anything special about May to you?
Plath and Angela’s birthdays!
JUNE-
1. What year did/will you graduate from high school?
1992. Ugh.
2. Do you usually do anything fun during this month?
Celebrate my birthday! And Olivia’s birthday, too.
3. Have a favorite baseball team?
Nope—I can’t stand the sport.
JULY-
1. What do you do on the Fourth of July?
Usually nothing. When I was a kid my family always had a small cookout and watched fireworks, though.
2. Do you go on any vacations during this month?
Usually not. It’s too hot and everything (airfares, gas, hotels) is overpriced because it’s peak tourist season everywhere I want to go.
3. Do you blast the A/C all day?
I would if I could, but my upstairs neighbors control the a/c and therefore call all the shots.
AUGUST-
1. Do you do anything special at the end of your summer?
Just praise Jesus that the end of the heat is in sight.
2. What was your favorite summer memory of ’06?
The night a bunch of us drove to Birdsboro, PA, to see Charlie star in a local production of Aida. It had been ages since I laughed that hard.
3. Did you have a sunburn?
I got burned when I spent a day at the beach. Even with SPF50 sunblock and a beach umbrella, I still got burned. Welcome to my skin’s world.
4. Did you go to the pool a lot?
If I had access to a pool I would. I try to avoid the sun as much as possible, but damn do I love being in the water.
SEPTEMBER-
1. Will you be attending college/school?
No. At some point, when my schedule settles down, I’d like to take a class for fun.
2. Who was your favorite teacher?
In high school…probably Mme. Clements, who I had for French all four years, because she was kind of zany. She always kept things interesting by having us do activities like write a letter to our future selves in French each year and have little parties where we sang French Christmas carols and whatnot. In college it was Shelley Nameroff, who taught my On the Road class. She was such a fabulous hippie.
3. Do you like Fall better than Summer?
Hell to the yeah!
OCTOBER-
1. What was your last Halloween costume?
A Soviet prostitute.
2. What is your favorite candy?
It’s a multi-tie between Andes mints, Reese’s peanut butter cups, spice drops, and Yorkie bars.
3. Whose birthday is during this month?
Foster (on the 3rd), my cousin Kelly (on the 11th), and my grandfather (on the 17th).
4. What’s was your favorite thing about this month?
The growing coldness, the leaves, the anticipation of upcoming holidays.
NOVEMBER-
1. Whose house do you go to for Thanksgiving?
My mom’s, usually.
2. Did you know GoofyAuctions.com was started this month in 2005?
Uh…no?
3. What are you thankful for?
The fact that I’ve escaped trauma and that I’ve only lost one loved one to death.
4. Do you love stuffing?
Stuffing’s okay, but nothing beats PA Dutch potato filling. That’s what we have on Thanksgiving and Christmas and I dream about it all year long.
5. Whose birthday is during this month?
Jorge (the 24th) and Richard (the 29th).
DECEMBER-
1. Do you celebrate Christmas?
Yeah, even though I’m totally areligious. I love the secular side of the holiday, even if it is totally over-commercialized. (I mean, c’mon, Christmas products arriving in the stores not long after Labor Day? Please.)
2. What is December 1st, 2007?
World AIDS Day. Violet Affleck’s birthday. And…?
3. Have you ever been kissed under the mistletoe?
Ptthh. No.
4. Get anything special last year?
My sister knitted me a scarf, which was really cool. And I got pretty much everything that was on my list.
5. What do you want this year?
Miscellaneous crap I don’t need. If I have a house by that point, I’ll surely want household stuff.
6. Do you like cold weather?
Yup!
Seven Deadly Sins
WRATH
1. Who did you last get angry with?
The depraved little shits who maimed and murdered my dad’s neighbor’s Emu.
2. What is your weapon of choice?
Knives. Who doesn’t like to cut a bitch every once in a while?
3. Would you hit a member of the opposite sex?
I’m not a hitter, but if I were, sure, I’d hit a dude.
4. How about of the same sex?
Same as #3, only with chicks.
5. Who was the last person who got really angry at you?
Mmm…honestly, I don’t know. If someone has been angry with me, s/he must’ve kept it well hidden because nothing was said to me.
6. What is your pet peeve?
I’ve got too many to count. For example, tailgaiters, people who don’t use their turn signals, rubberneckers, people who pull their food out of the microwave before it’s finished and then they don’t hit the “clear” button. People who borrow stuff and then only return it when you ask for it. The obscene loudness of my upstairs neighbors’ voices, footsteps, and snores. The fact that they don’t remove junk mail or wrongly rerouted mail from our shared mailbox when they get to it first. They always pull out their mail and leave the other shit behind for me. They know that my old landlord is dead, and therefore he obviously doesn’t need the mail that occasionally comes for him, so why do they leave it in the mailbox for me? Why don’t they just throw it out? Ditto for the mail that we get for tenants who haven’t lived at that address in years. Why do they leave it for me?? What do they think I’m going to do with it??
7. Do you keep grudges, or can you let them go easily?
I used to be out of control with the grudges, but I’m much better now. You really need to screw me over to earn a grudge.
SLOTH
1. What is one thing you’re supposed to do daily that you haven’t?
Wear underwear.
2. What is the latest you’ve ever woken up?
Probably around 1pm.
3. Name a person you’ve been meaning to contact, but haven’t.
A mortgage lender.
4. What is the last lame excuse you made?
I was invited to an outdoor screening of a Hitchcock film at Strathmore last week and was like, “I can’t—the America’s Got Talent semi-final is on.”
5. Have you ever watched an infomercial all the way through?
Maybe in high school as a laugh; I can’t remember.
6. When was the last time you got a good workout?
Once upon a time in a land called Never! Actually, via walking, I got in a hell of a workout during my four days in London last fall. I walked until every muscle screamed for mercy.
7. How many times did you snooze your alarm clock today?
I don’t use the snooze button. Waking up sucks whether you do it now or three minutes from now, so why not just get the misery over and done with?
GLUTTONY
1. What is your overpriced yuppie beverage of choice?
None. I usually just stick with tap water and generic instant coffee!
2. Meat eaters: white meat or dark meat?
I’m a vegetarian. Back in my carnivorous days, though, I stuck to white meat.
3. What is the greatest amount of alcohol you've had in one night?
A single bottle of beer. I’m essentially a teetotaler!
4. Have you ever used a professional diet company?
No, but if I really had a desire to lose weight I’d probably try Weight Watchers or Jenny Craig, because my willpower on its own…well, it ain’t so great.
5. Do you have an issue with your weight?
I’d love to lose 20 lbs and get toned, but I just don’t have the energy to do it. It doesn’t bother me that badly.
6. Do you prefer sweets, salty foods, or spicy foods?
Salty.
7. Have you ever looked at a small house pet and thought “lunch”?
God! That’s revolting.
LUST
1. How many people have you seen naked:
*bats eyelashes coquettishly*
2. How many people have seen YOU naked:
*bats eyelashes coquettishly even harder*
3. Have you ever caught yourself staring at someone’s chest/crotch?
I don’t think so. Face, yes, but crotch/chest? I doubt it.
4. Have you “done it”?
Have I done what exactly? Hmmm?
5. What is your favorite body part on a person of your gender?
Eyes, maybe? Or hair?
6. Have you ever been propositioned by a prostitute?
Haha! No, I think they’ve got better sense than that.
7. Have you ever had to get tested for an STD or pregnancy?
Thank god, no.
GREED
1. How many credit cards do you own?
A bunch. But I’ve been working at paying them off and only two of them have balances at this point.
2. What’s your guilty pleasure store?
Target. It’s so…common, you know? But lord am I good at dropping the ducats in there.
3. If you had $10 million, what would you do with it?
Travel, travel, travel, travel, travel. And buy a few cozy houses in areas that I love.
4. Would you rather be rich or famous?
Rich. Celebrities have a lot of advantages (swag, special treatment, etc.), but other than that, nothing about being a celebrity would interest me. I’d hate to have my picture slathered everywhere, with everyone constantly analyzing and criticizing my face, body, and clothing. I’d hate to be followed by paparazzi all the time.
5. Would you accept a boring job if it meant you would make megabucks?
Boring, yes. Stressful, no. Conflict of interest (like the NRA), no.
6. Have you ever stolen anything?
Hells yeah! But not in years.
7. How many MP3s are on your hard drive?
Right now: 2,146.
PRIDE
1. What’s one thing you have done that you’re most proud of?
Probably graduating from college on time, cum laude, without ever 1) changing my major, 2) transferring schools, 3) getting any final grades lower than a B-, or 4) committing suicide. I wasn’t totally convinced I could pull it off.
2. What’s one thing have you done that your parents are most proud of?
I don’t know…they’re strangely proud of mundane things, like the fact that after seven months in London I knew how to ride the tube on my own, and the fact that I know my way around the DC area AFTER LIVING HERE FOR ALMOST 10 YEARS. Clearly they think I’m mentally disabled.
3. What things would you like to accomplish in your life?
Buy a house, travel to all the places I really want to see.
4. Do you get annoyed by coming in second place?
No, I’m not competitive.
5. Have you ever entered a contest knowing you would win?
Hmm…I don’t think so. I’m never confident that I’m going to win anything.
6. Have you ever cheated on something to get a higher score?
Sha!
7. What did you do today that you’re proud of?
I can’t say—it’s a little too weird.
ENVY
1. What item does your friend have that you want?
I’m jealous of my friends who own homes!
2. Who would you want to go on “Trading Spaces” with?
I think I’d trust any of my closest friends to go on there with me. And one or two coworkers, too.
3. If you could be anyone else in the world, who would you be?
A Brit! I’ve been such an Anglophile lately!
4. Have you ever been cheated on?
I hope not!
5. Have you ever wished you had a different physical feature?
Yeah, I’ve wished that I could lose the craniosynostosis-induced dents and asymmetry.
6. What trait in others do you wish you had for yourself?
Ambition.
7. Do you wish you’d come up with this survey?
Not particularly.
Questions People Wouldn’t Ask (Uh...why not? —JB)
1. When’s the last time you ran?
Probably at JFK Airport last year, when I was desperately trying to catch a connecting flight. I ran and ran and ran…and didn’t make it in time. Maybe because I’m hopelessly, shamefully out of shape? Just a thought.
2. Do your jeans have rips, tears, and holes in them?
Naw. They’re in great condition, even though some of them are secondhand.
3. What are you reading right now?
The World without Us, The Essential Rumi, and Shazza Osbourne’s memoir. I’m about to start the final Harry Potter book, too.
4. Is your lipgloss poppin’?
What?
5. When is the last time you saw the person you like/liked?
I don’t like anyone. My heart is a stone.
6. What’s your best physical feature?
My eye color.
7. Can you dance?
I look spastic when I dance. I literally look like I’m having a seizure.
8. Do you get the full 8 hours of sleep a night?
Not on weeknights, but on weekends I get a good 10-12 hours each night.
9. Think of all your exes. Would you take any of them back?
It doesn’t matter because I like being single, thank you very much!
10. If anyone came to your house on your “lazy days” what would you be doing?
Lazy days don’t exist anymore! I work constantly. But, okay, occasionally there is a day when I don’t have to work or I only have to work for a short period of time, and on those days the rest of my time is spent vegging on the couch, watching TV or a Netflix DVD, and reading.
11. Who last grabbed your butt?
Oh god, I have no idea. Has anyone ever grabbed my butt? I don’t know why they’d want to.
12. Have you ever been on your school’s track team?
Hell no! I got a doctor’s note to get out of running the mile in gym class, for chrissake!!!
13. Do you own a pair of Converse?
I’ve faithfully worn Converse (but not only Converse, because they’ve got no arch support whatsoever and thus they’re lousy for excessive walking) since 1992.
14. Who did you copy and paste this survey from?
Shawn Seabold.
15. Do you eat raw cookie dough?
No, it doesn’t appeal to me at all.
16. Have you ever kicked a vending machine?
Probably at one point or another.
17. Don’t you hate when the radio ruins good songs by playing a bad one?
Well, I rarely listen to the radio, so it’s hard for me to say. My time in the car is usually spent listening to CDs or my iPod.
18. Do you watch Trading Spaces?
No. I watched Changing Rooms for a bit back in the day, but then lost interest.
19. Are you cocky?
Nope.
20. Could you live without a computer?
Probably not, sadly enough!
21. What age were you when you found out that Santa wasn’t real?
Hmm…I don’t know…maybe around age 10? I was a late bloomer.
22. Are you in high school?
I’ve been out for 15 years!
23. Is anyone on your bad side now?
Yeah, a bit.
24. What jewelry are you wearing?
A necklace I made out of old 1980s earrings.
25. What’s the first thing you do when you get online?
Check my email.
26. Do you watch Grey’s Anatomy?
Yup. I’ve thought Patrick Dempsey was hot ever since I saw him in Can’t Buy Me Love when I was in junior high!
27. How do most people spell your name?
It’s rare for them to fuck up Jennifer, but Boyer often gets misspelled as Blair, Bowyer, and Bauer.
28. Would you wear your boyfriend’s/girlfriend’s clothes?
I don’t have one, so the point is moot.
29. What are you doing tomorrow?
Meeting Debbie for dinner at a vegetarian Indian restaurant in Langley Park.
30. Is Justin Timberlake becoming the next Michael Jackson?
Eh, I don’t know. I can’t stand Justin Timberlake’s music and never heard more than like three notes of his songs, so I can’t judge whether he’s like Michael Jackson or not. Or whether that’s a good thing.
31. Will you keep your last name when you get married?
Definitely!
32. When is the last time you left your house?
Today.
33. Do you return your cart?
Always. It’s rude not to do so!
34. Do you have a dishwasher?
Yes—it’s called my hands.
35. What noise do you hear?
Tapping keys, printers, the dehumidifiers that are attempting to keep my department from turning into a jungle.
36. Would you survive in prison?
I doubt it. I’d lay low and try to be invisible, but that usually backfires on me and makes the freaks come fast and furious, so I doubt prison would be any different.
37. If all of your friends were going on a road trip, would you?
Yeah. I love road trips!
38. Do you know anyone with the same name as you?
There are a million Jennifer Boyers and Jennifer Lynn(e) Boyers out there. Even my hometown had another Jennifer Lynn(e) Boyer when I was living there. But I’ve never actually met one in person.
39. How many pairs of shoes do you own?
Oh jeez, I don’t know. 20-30, maybe?
40. What’s the last thing you ate?
My lunch: carrot-ginger soup, a cinnamon-raisin English muffin with cinnamon-raisin peanut butter on it, and a container of blueberry yogurt.
41. What’s your middle name?
Lynne. *yawns*
42. Is your phone on vibrate or ring?
It’s on nothing—I keep it perpetually turned off because I can’t stand cell phones.
43. What brand are your pants right now?
Something called Freestyle. (Hot!) They were cast-offs from my sister.
44. Ever been to Georgia?
I went there for the first time last year to visit Annida.
45. What irritates you most on MySpace?
When people clutter up their pages with a ridiculous amount of video clips, music clips, pictures, etc. It can take forever to scroll through some people’s pages because there’s so much shit on there. Just create a damn website already! Don’t try to cram an entire website’s worth of junk onto one small MySpace page!
46. Do you watch movies with your parents?
If I’m staying with my mom for a weekend, occasionally we’ll watch a flick together.
47. What’s your favorite color?
plum
48. Favorite song?
Right now it’s GMT and Hinda Hicks’s Who Would You Have Me Love.
49. What color is your car?
silver
50. What song best describes your life right now?
Are You There?
51. Where do you work?
A non-profit that shall remain unidentified.
52. Are you taking college classes right now?
No, but I’d like to take a pottery class, Russian class, or metalworking class just for fun.
53. What do you drink most of the time?
water
54. Do you like sushi?
God, yes. I miss fish sushi, though. Vegetarian sushi’s not as good, but I still love it.
55. Do you get your hair cut every month?
No, I’m so bad with getting trims. Hence the split ends. Part of the problem is that I haven’t found a stylist down here who I like, so I still go to my stylist in Lebanon, and that means schlepping 2½ hours to see her.
56. Do you go online every day?
During the week, yes; during weekends, sometimes.
57. Do you enjoy your personality?
Sure, I think it’s okay. It has its pros and cons.
58. Do you know anyone that has changed your life?
A few people have changed my life in small ways.
song heard most recently before posting:
Girlfriend in a Coma—Joshua Radin
Your SENIOR year of high school
1. Who was your best friend?
Heather
2.What sports did you play?
I had gold medals in melancholia and self-absorption.
3. What kind of car did you drive?
My mom’s car, when she let me use it (a 1991 Honda Civic).
4. It’s Friday night, where were you?
Hanging out with my friends, either A) cruising The Loop; B) sitting around my house, reading tabloids, and watching low-budget horror movies; or C) sitting around Missy’s parents’ house, reading tabloids, and watching low-budget horror movies.
5. Were you a party animal?
Did you not read my answer to #4?? Does it sound like I was a party animal?
6. Were you considered a flirt?
Hell no. I tried to be invisible around boys! (Except one particular crush, and even then I was too shy to flirt openly with him.)
7. Were you in band, orchestra, or chorus?
Not band or orchestra, but I was part of the chorus (ie, a background playa) in the school musical.
8. Were you a nerd?
Sho’ ‘nuff.
9. Did you get suspended/expelled?
Not my senior year! (I got suspended junior year, though.)
10. Can you sing the fight song?
Did we even have a fight song? Our mascot was a fucking cedar tree—not exactly a warrior!
11. Who was your favorite teacher?
During senior year…hmmm…probably Mme. Clements, my French IV teacher. I always thought she was pretty cool. And the guy who taught AP History (god, what was his name? Mr. Snavely?) was cool, too, because he had a wonderfully dry sense of humor. Oh, and even though he was tough as nails, I liked my Honors English teacher, Mr. Linn, because he was the only teacher who really attempted to prepare us for the academic rigors of college.
12.What was your school’s full name?
Lebanon High School
13. School mascot?
A cedar tree. Yes, a cedar tree!
14. Did you go to prom?
Yeah.
15. If you could go back and do it over, would you?
I don’t have a desire to go back and relive my senior year, thank you very much, although there were some fun moments.
16. What do you remember most about graduation?
How stupid it was that we were seated according to our height, instead of being put in alphabetical order. Also, I was thinking ahead to my 18th birthday (it came two days later) and Senior Week (which started one day later).
17. Where were you on senior skip day?
We didn’t have one. Although…I guess Missy, Gates, and I kind of had our own Senior Skip Day when we skipped school in order to attend this C.A.U.S.E. environmental fair thingy in downtown Lancaster.
18. Did you have a job your senior year?
Nope, thank god!
19. Where did you go most often for lunch?
The cafeteria. We weren’t allowed off-campus; I think they may’ve even locked the doors to keep us inside!
20. Have you gained weight since then?
I actually lost a bit weight, and stayed at that lower weight for a few years, but now I’d say I’m a good 15-20 pounds heavier than I was when I graduated.
21. What did you do after graduation?
My family had a small party to celebrate my graduation and birthday. Some friends stopped by, but most of our bigger, more official parties had taken place in earlier weeks. Afterward I went to bed, because I had to get up early the next day to leave for Senior Week.
22. When did you graduate?
June 2, 1992. I only remember the date because it was my friend Jenn’s birthday.
23. Who was your Senior prom date?
My friend Terry.
24. Are you going to your 10 year reunion?
I did go to my 10-year reunion and it sucked. Will there be a 15-year reunion this year? I don’t know. If there is, I don’t know if I’ll bother going.
25. Who was your home room teacher?
Oh god…I have no idea. Frau Toews, maybe? She was my homeroom teacher one year, and I think it may’ve been 12th grade.
Seasonal Survey
JANUARY-
1. Who kissed you on New Year’s?
My cat Plath.
2. Did you have a New Year’s resolution this year?
Nope. I gave them up a few years ago.
3. Does it snow where you live?
Yeah, but not a lot. I’d prefer more.
4. Do you like hot chocolate?
I love it. It’s my favorite hot drink.
5. Have you ever been to Times Square to watch the ball drop?
No, unfortunately. I’ve always wanted to do that. Spending two New Year’s Eves in London and ringing in the millennium at a huge downtown bash in DC whetted my appetite for Times Square.
FEBRUARY-
1. Who was your Valentine?
Myself. NEXT!
2. When you were little, did you buy Valentine’s for the whole class?
Oh yeah. Well...actually, I can’t remember if I gave them to everybody or just the kids I liked.
3. Do you care if the groundhog sees its shadow or not?
The whole thing is ridiculous. There are, like, stadium lights and spotlights and flashbulbs raining down on the groundhog from all directions; of course he’s going to see his shadow!
MARCH-
1. Are you Irish?
Partially; my dad’s maternal line came from the little village of Butlersbridge in County Cavan.
2. Do you wear green on St. Patty’s Day?
3. What did you do for St. Patty’s Day in 2007?
Nothing but the usual: work, work, work.
4. Are you happy when winter is pretty much over?
I love winter, but by March I’m usually ready for spring. Not the hot weather, though.
APRIL-
1. Do you like the rain?
Yes. But not flooding!
2. Did you play an April fool’s joke on anyone this year?
I hate April Fool’s jokes. I know: killjoy.
3. Do you get tons of candy on Easter?
Not anymore—I did when I was a kid. But I still treat myself to loads of Marshmallow Peeps and Cadbury Mini-Eggs each year.
4. Do you celebrate 4/20?
What the hell’s 4/20? Besides the Vernal Equinox (on some years)?
5. Do you love the month of April?
It’s okay. There’s nothing big to look forward to, but the schizophrenic spring weather is usually calming down by this point, so that’s nice.
MAY-
1. What is your favorite flower?
Heather.
2. Do you like the spring?
I do, actually. It’s not my favorite season (I prefer fall), but it can be so lovely and wild, I can’t help but be impressed.
3. Finish the phrase “April showers”:
“…usually flood my apartment.”
4. Do you celebrate May 16th: National Piercing Day?
If I had any unusual piercings I might!
5. Is there anything special about May to you?
Plath and Angela’s birthdays!
JUNE-
1. What year did/will you graduate from high school?
1992. Ugh.
2. Do you usually do anything fun during this month?
Celebrate my birthday! And Olivia’s birthday, too.
3. Have a favorite baseball team?
Nope—I can’t stand the sport.
JULY-
1. What do you do on the Fourth of July?
Usually nothing. When I was a kid my family always had a small cookout and watched fireworks, though.
2. Do you go on any vacations during this month?
Usually not. It’s too hot and everything (airfares, gas, hotels) is overpriced because it’s peak tourist season everywhere I want to go.
3. Do you blast the A/C all day?
I would if I could, but my upstairs neighbors control the a/c and therefore call all the shots.
AUGUST-
1. Do you do anything special at the end of your summer?
Just praise Jesus that the end of the heat is in sight.
2. What was your favorite summer memory of ’06?
The night a bunch of us drove to Birdsboro, PA, to see Charlie star in a local production of Aida. It had been ages since I laughed that hard.
3. Did you have a sunburn?
I got burned when I spent a day at the beach. Even with SPF50 sunblock and a beach umbrella, I still got burned. Welcome to my skin’s world.
4. Did you go to the pool a lot?
If I had access to a pool I would. I try to avoid the sun as much as possible, but damn do I love being in the water.
SEPTEMBER-
1. Will you be attending college/school?
No. At some point, when my schedule settles down, I’d like to take a class for fun.
2. Who was your favorite teacher?
In high school…probably Mme. Clements, who I had for French all four years, because she was kind of zany. She always kept things interesting by having us do activities like write a letter to our future selves in French each year and have little parties where we sang French Christmas carols and whatnot. In college it was Shelley Nameroff, who taught my On the Road class. She was such a fabulous hippie.
3. Do you like Fall better than Summer?
Hell to the yeah!
OCTOBER-
1. What was your last Halloween costume?
A Soviet prostitute.
2. What is your favorite candy?
It’s a multi-tie between Andes mints, Reese’s peanut butter cups, spice drops, and Yorkie bars.
3. Whose birthday is during this month?
Foster (on the 3rd), my cousin Kelly (on the 11th), and my grandfather (on the 17th).
4. What’s was your favorite thing about this month?
The growing coldness, the leaves, the anticipation of upcoming holidays.
NOVEMBER-
1. Whose house do you go to for Thanksgiving?
My mom’s, usually.
2. Did you know GoofyAuctions.com was started this month in 2005?
Uh…no?
3. What are you thankful for?
The fact that I’ve escaped trauma and that I’ve only lost one loved one to death.
4. Do you love stuffing?
Stuffing’s okay, but nothing beats PA Dutch potato filling. That’s what we have on Thanksgiving and Christmas and I dream about it all year long.
5. Whose birthday is during this month?
Jorge (the 24th) and Richard (the 29th).
DECEMBER-
1. Do you celebrate Christmas?
Yeah, even though I’m totally areligious. I love the secular side of the holiday, even if it is totally over-commercialized. (I mean, c’mon, Christmas products arriving in the stores not long after Labor Day? Please.)
2. What is December 1st, 2007?
World AIDS Day. Violet Affleck’s birthday. And…?
3. Have you ever been kissed under the mistletoe?
Ptthh. No.
4. Get anything special last year?
My sister knitted me a scarf, which was really cool. And I got pretty much everything that was on my list.
5. What do you want this year?
Miscellaneous crap I don’t need. If I have a house by that point, I’ll surely want household stuff.
6. Do you like cold weather?
Yup!
Seven Deadly Sins
WRATH
1. Who did you last get angry with?
The depraved little shits who maimed and murdered my dad’s neighbor’s Emu.
2. What is your weapon of choice?
Knives. Who doesn’t like to cut a bitch every once in a while?
3. Would you hit a member of the opposite sex?
I’m not a hitter, but if I were, sure, I’d hit a dude.
4. How about of the same sex?
Same as #3, only with chicks.
5. Who was the last person who got really angry at you?
Mmm…honestly, I don’t know. If someone has been angry with me, s/he must’ve kept it well hidden because nothing was said to me.
6. What is your pet peeve?
I’ve got too many to count. For example, tailgaiters, people who don’t use their turn signals, rubberneckers, people who pull their food out of the microwave before it’s finished and then they don’t hit the “clear” button. People who borrow stuff and then only return it when you ask for it. The obscene loudness of my upstairs neighbors’ voices, footsteps, and snores. The fact that they don’t remove junk mail or wrongly rerouted mail from our shared mailbox when they get to it first. They always pull out their mail and leave the other shit behind for me. They know that my old landlord is dead, and therefore he obviously doesn’t need the mail that occasionally comes for him, so why do they leave it in the mailbox for me? Why don’t they just throw it out? Ditto for the mail that we get for tenants who haven’t lived at that address in years. Why do they leave it for me?? What do they think I’m going to do with it??
7. Do you keep grudges, or can you let them go easily?
I used to be out of control with the grudges, but I’m much better now. You really need to screw me over to earn a grudge.
SLOTH
1. What is one thing you’re supposed to do daily that you haven’t?
Wear underwear.
2. What is the latest you’ve ever woken up?
Probably around 1pm.
3. Name a person you’ve been meaning to contact, but haven’t.
A mortgage lender.
4. What is the last lame excuse you made?
I was invited to an outdoor screening of a Hitchcock film at Strathmore last week and was like, “I can’t—the America’s Got Talent semi-final is on.”
5. Have you ever watched an infomercial all the way through?
Maybe in high school as a laugh; I can’t remember.
6. When was the last time you got a good workout?
Once upon a time in a land called Never! Actually, via walking, I got in a hell of a workout during my four days in London last fall. I walked until every muscle screamed for mercy.
7. How many times did you snooze your alarm clock today?
I don’t use the snooze button. Waking up sucks whether you do it now or three minutes from now, so why not just get the misery over and done with?
GLUTTONY
1. What is your overpriced yuppie beverage of choice?
None. I usually just stick with tap water and generic instant coffee!
2. Meat eaters: white meat or dark meat?
I’m a vegetarian. Back in my carnivorous days, though, I stuck to white meat.
3. What is the greatest amount of alcohol you've had in one night?
A single bottle of beer. I’m essentially a teetotaler!
4. Have you ever used a professional diet company?
No, but if I really had a desire to lose weight I’d probably try Weight Watchers or Jenny Craig, because my willpower on its own…well, it ain’t so great.
5. Do you have an issue with your weight?
I’d love to lose 20 lbs and get toned, but I just don’t have the energy to do it. It doesn’t bother me that badly.
6. Do you prefer sweets, salty foods, or spicy foods?
Salty.
7. Have you ever looked at a small house pet and thought “lunch”?
God! That’s revolting.
LUST
1. How many people have you seen naked:
*bats eyelashes coquettishly*
2. How many people have seen YOU naked:
*bats eyelashes coquettishly even harder*
3. Have you ever caught yourself staring at someone’s chest/crotch?
I don’t think so. Face, yes, but crotch/chest? I doubt it.
4. Have you “done it”?
Have I done what exactly? Hmmm?
5. What is your favorite body part on a person of your gender?
Eyes, maybe? Or hair?
6. Have you ever been propositioned by a prostitute?
Haha! No, I think they’ve got better sense than that.
7. Have you ever had to get tested for an STD or pregnancy?
Thank god, no.
GREED
1. How many credit cards do you own?
A bunch. But I’ve been working at paying them off and only two of them have balances at this point.
2. What’s your guilty pleasure store?
Target. It’s so…common, you know? But lord am I good at dropping the ducats in there.
3. If you had $10 million, what would you do with it?
Travel, travel, travel, travel, travel. And buy a few cozy houses in areas that I love.
4. Would you rather be rich or famous?
Rich. Celebrities have a lot of advantages (swag, special treatment, etc.), but other than that, nothing about being a celebrity would interest me. I’d hate to have my picture slathered everywhere, with everyone constantly analyzing and criticizing my face, body, and clothing. I’d hate to be followed by paparazzi all the time.
5. Would you accept a boring job if it meant you would make megabucks?
Boring, yes. Stressful, no. Conflict of interest (like the NRA), no.
6. Have you ever stolen anything?
Hells yeah! But not in years.
7. How many MP3s are on your hard drive?
Right now: 2,146.
PRIDE
1. What’s one thing you have done that you’re most proud of?
Probably graduating from college on time, cum laude, without ever 1) changing my major, 2) transferring schools, 3) getting any final grades lower than a B-, or 4) committing suicide. I wasn’t totally convinced I could pull it off.
2. What’s one thing have you done that your parents are most proud of?
I don’t know…they’re strangely proud of mundane things, like the fact that after seven months in London I knew how to ride the tube on my own, and the fact that I know my way around the DC area AFTER LIVING HERE FOR ALMOST 10 YEARS. Clearly they think I’m mentally disabled.
3. What things would you like to accomplish in your life?
Buy a house, travel to all the places I really want to see.
4. Do you get annoyed by coming in second place?
No, I’m not competitive.
5. Have you ever entered a contest knowing you would win?
Hmm…I don’t think so. I’m never confident that I’m going to win anything.
6. Have you ever cheated on something to get a higher score?
Sha!
7. What did you do today that you’re proud of?
I can’t say—it’s a little too weird.
ENVY
1. What item does your friend have that you want?
I’m jealous of my friends who own homes!
2. Who would you want to go on “Trading Spaces” with?
I think I’d trust any of my closest friends to go on there with me. And one or two coworkers, too.
3. If you could be anyone else in the world, who would you be?
A Brit! I’ve been such an Anglophile lately!
4. Have you ever been cheated on?
I hope not!
5. Have you ever wished you had a different physical feature?
Yeah, I’ve wished that I could lose the craniosynostosis-induced dents and asymmetry.
6. What trait in others do you wish you had for yourself?
Ambition.
7. Do you wish you’d come up with this survey?
Not particularly.
Questions People Wouldn’t Ask (Uh...why not? —JB)
1. When’s the last time you ran?
Probably at JFK Airport last year, when I was desperately trying to catch a connecting flight. I ran and ran and ran…and didn’t make it in time. Maybe because I’m hopelessly, shamefully out of shape? Just a thought.
2. Do your jeans have rips, tears, and holes in them?
Naw. They’re in great condition, even though some of them are secondhand.
3. What are you reading right now?
The World without Us, The Essential Rumi, and Shazza Osbourne’s memoir. I’m about to start the final Harry Potter book, too.
4. Is your lipgloss poppin’?
What?
5. When is the last time you saw the person you like/liked?
I don’t like anyone. My heart is a stone.
6. What’s your best physical feature?
My eye color.
7. Can you dance?
I look spastic when I dance. I literally look like I’m having a seizure.
8. Do you get the full 8 hours of sleep a night?
Not on weeknights, but on weekends I get a good 10-12 hours each night.
9. Think of all your exes. Would you take any of them back?
It doesn’t matter because I like being single, thank you very much!
10. If anyone came to your house on your “lazy days” what would you be doing?
Lazy days don’t exist anymore! I work constantly. But, okay, occasionally there is a day when I don’t have to work or I only have to work for a short period of time, and on those days the rest of my time is spent vegging on the couch, watching TV or a Netflix DVD, and reading.
11. Who last grabbed your butt?
Oh god, I have no idea. Has anyone ever grabbed my butt? I don’t know why they’d want to.
12. Have you ever been on your school’s track team?
Hell no! I got a doctor’s note to get out of running the mile in gym class, for chrissake!!!
13. Do you own a pair of Converse?
I’ve faithfully worn Converse (but not only Converse, because they’ve got no arch support whatsoever and thus they’re lousy for excessive walking) since 1992.
14. Who did you copy and paste this survey from?
Shawn Seabold.
15. Do you eat raw cookie dough?
No, it doesn’t appeal to me at all.
16. Have you ever kicked a vending machine?
Probably at one point or another.
17. Don’t you hate when the radio ruins good songs by playing a bad one?
Well, I rarely listen to the radio, so it’s hard for me to say. My time in the car is usually spent listening to CDs or my iPod.
18. Do you watch Trading Spaces?
No. I watched Changing Rooms for a bit back in the day, but then lost interest.
19. Are you cocky?
Nope.
20. Could you live without a computer?
Probably not, sadly enough!
21. What age were you when you found out that Santa wasn’t real?
Hmm…I don’t know…maybe around age 10? I was a late bloomer.
22. Are you in high school?
I’ve been out for 15 years!
23. Is anyone on your bad side now?
Yeah, a bit.
24. What jewelry are you wearing?
A necklace I made out of old 1980s earrings.
25. What’s the first thing you do when you get online?
Check my email.
26. Do you watch Grey’s Anatomy?
Yup. I’ve thought Patrick Dempsey was hot ever since I saw him in Can’t Buy Me Love when I was in junior high!
27. How do most people spell your name?
It’s rare for them to fuck up Jennifer, but Boyer often gets misspelled as Blair, Bowyer, and Bauer.
28. Would you wear your boyfriend’s/girlfriend’s clothes?
I don’t have one, so the point is moot.
29. What are you doing tomorrow?
Meeting Debbie for dinner at a vegetarian Indian restaurant in Langley Park.
30. Is Justin Timberlake becoming the next Michael Jackson?
Eh, I don’t know. I can’t stand Justin Timberlake’s music and never heard more than like three notes of his songs, so I can’t judge whether he’s like Michael Jackson or not. Or whether that’s a good thing.
31. Will you keep your last name when you get married?
Definitely!
32. When is the last time you left your house?
Today.
33. Do you return your cart?
Always. It’s rude not to do so!
34. Do you have a dishwasher?
Yes—it’s called my hands.
35. What noise do you hear?
Tapping keys, printers, the dehumidifiers that are attempting to keep my department from turning into a jungle.
36. Would you survive in prison?
I doubt it. I’d lay low and try to be invisible, but that usually backfires on me and makes the freaks come fast and furious, so I doubt prison would be any different.
37. If all of your friends were going on a road trip, would you?
Yeah. I love road trips!
38. Do you know anyone with the same name as you?
There are a million Jennifer Boyers and Jennifer Lynn(e) Boyers out there. Even my hometown had another Jennifer Lynn(e) Boyer when I was living there. But I’ve never actually met one in person.
39. How many pairs of shoes do you own?
Oh jeez, I don’t know. 20-30, maybe?
40. What’s the last thing you ate?
My lunch: carrot-ginger soup, a cinnamon-raisin English muffin with cinnamon-raisin peanut butter on it, and a container of blueberry yogurt.
41. What’s your middle name?
Lynne. *yawns*
42. Is your phone on vibrate or ring?
It’s on nothing—I keep it perpetually turned off because I can’t stand cell phones.
43. What brand are your pants right now?
Something called Freestyle. (Hot!) They were cast-offs from my sister.
44. Ever been to Georgia?
I went there for the first time last year to visit Annida.
45. What irritates you most on MySpace?
When people clutter up their pages with a ridiculous amount of video clips, music clips, pictures, etc. It can take forever to scroll through some people’s pages because there’s so much shit on there. Just create a damn website already! Don’t try to cram an entire website’s worth of junk onto one small MySpace page!
46. Do you watch movies with your parents?
If I’m staying with my mom for a weekend, occasionally we’ll watch a flick together.
47. What’s your favorite color?
plum
48. Favorite song?
Right now it’s GMT and Hinda Hicks’s Who Would You Have Me Love.
49. What color is your car?
silver
50. What song best describes your life right now?
Are You There?
51. Where do you work?
A non-profit that shall remain unidentified.
52. Are you taking college classes right now?
No, but I’d like to take a pottery class, Russian class, or metalworking class just for fun.
53. What do you drink most of the time?
water
54. Do you like sushi?
God, yes. I miss fish sushi, though. Vegetarian sushi’s not as good, but I still love it.
55. Do you get your hair cut every month?
No, I’m so bad with getting trims. Hence the split ends. Part of the problem is that I haven’t found a stylist down here who I like, so I still go to my stylist in Lebanon, and that means schlepping 2½ hours to see her.
56. Do you go online every day?
During the week, yes; during weekends, sometimes.
57. Do you enjoy your personality?
Sure, I think it’s okay. It has its pros and cons.
58. Do you know anyone that has changed your life?
A few people have changed my life in small ways.
song heard most recently before posting:
Girlfriend in a Coma—Joshua Radin
Monday, August 20, 2007
yays, nays, and knives
Yay! to the Schuylkill County District Attorney for voluntarily getting involved in the Emu-killing case. This improves the chances of the killers getting more than just a meager fine and a limp slap on the wrist.
Nay! to that scoundrel Steven Moffat for putting James Nesbitt in geeky glasses during the flashback scenes in Saturday’s episode of Jekyll. Geek-chic glasses on men are such an aphrodisiac to me, and seeing Jackman in those glasses made me swoon almost to the point of unconsciousness. I’ll be sending you my medical bills, sir!
Recently, in a graphic design magazine, I saw an amazing chair—quite possibly the most amazing chair in the history of amazing chairs:
I thought: I want it. And I will pay for it. Which, according to this:
means forking out nearly $1,500. Do I have that kind of money sitting around, just begging to be spent on a knife chair that would most likely be too uncomfortable to even sit on? (And which would terrify any and all houseguests?) Hell no. But I’d figure something out! Then it occurred to me that the chair might not be real after all. Some of the item descriptions just sound a bit too…tongue-in-cheek. Like the fact that it comes with its own sheaths and sharpeners, and was designed “with a Green Beret’s instinct for comfort.” And I noticed the bit in the corner that says “Everything looks good on Centura,” which to me sounds like it’s Centura Paper’s way of saying, “Hey! We’re so good, we even make ridiculous knife chairs look enticing!”
Harrrumph. Maybe some of us don’t think that knife chairs are ridiculous, thank you very much!
Meanwhile, there’s more excellent art here and here.
song heard most recently before posting:
Only Got One—Frou Frou
Nay! to that scoundrel Steven Moffat for putting James Nesbitt in geeky glasses during the flashback scenes in Saturday’s episode of Jekyll. Geek-chic glasses on men are such an aphrodisiac to me, and seeing Jackman in those glasses made me swoon almost to the point of unconsciousness. I’ll be sending you my medical bills, sir!
Recently, in a graphic design magazine, I saw an amazing chair—quite possibly the most amazing chair in the history of amazing chairs:
I thought: I want it. And I will pay for it. Which, according to this:
means forking out nearly $1,500. Do I have that kind of money sitting around, just begging to be spent on a knife chair that would most likely be too uncomfortable to even sit on? (And which would terrify any and all houseguests?) Hell no. But I’d figure something out! Then it occurred to me that the chair might not be real after all. Some of the item descriptions just sound a bit too…tongue-in-cheek. Like the fact that it comes with its own sheaths and sharpeners, and was designed “with a Green Beret’s instinct for comfort.” And I noticed the bit in the corner that says “Everything looks good on Centura,” which to me sounds like it’s Centura Paper’s way of saying, “Hey! We’re so good, we even make ridiculous knife chairs look enticing!”Harrrumph. Maybe some of us don’t think that knife chairs are ridiculous, thank you very much!
Meanwhile, there’s more excellent art here and here.
song heard most recently before posting:
Only Got One—Frou Frou
Wednesday, August 15, 2007
iMac a-go-go
I decided that I’m madly in love with James Nesbitt, star of my new favorite British show, Jekyll. What a sexy, sexy man…especially when he’s in his wicked, feral Hyde mode. He looked so luscious when he was in that lion’s den and was dancing around crazily and covered in blood. And that Hyde kiss he gave Claire when they were locked in the basement? Swoon! (Sometimes not having any semblance of a life—one that would entail having a reason to leave the house on Saturday night when Jekyll airs—really comes in handy.)
Meanwhile, when my old G3 was all up in my bidness recently, I had to borrow an iMac for a bit, and since it’s, like, written in the Book of Life that I can’t use an iMac until I first waste a few minutes playing around with the Photo Booth feature, I managed to produce a few horrific shots:
Sexy!
My, what big eyes you have!
This looks like something out of a bad Krofft-produced show from the 1970s.
All those years of orthodontia paid off!
I look like a Harry Potter character in this one.
Pretty much how I look every morning.
Rocking the Frieda Kahlo Eyebrow.
A thermal shot showing that I apparently have a hot forehead and nose.
A bit LSD-ish, innit?
Looking sulky in a Warhol-esque way.
Evil twins.
Like The Thinker! Only...not so much.
One last shot before kissing off.
song heard most recently before posting:
Woman Like a Man—Damien Rice
Meanwhile, when my old G3 was all up in my bidness recently, I had to borrow an iMac for a bit, and since it’s, like, written in the Book of Life that I can’t use an iMac until I first waste a few minutes playing around with the Photo Booth feature, I managed to produce a few horrific shots:
Sexy!
My, what big eyes you have!
This looks like something out of a bad Krofft-produced show from the 1970s.
All those years of orthodontia paid off!
I look like a Harry Potter character in this one.
Pretty much how I look every morning.
Rocking the Frieda Kahlo Eyebrow.
A thermal shot showing that I apparently have a hot forehead and nose.
A bit LSD-ish, innit?
Looking sulky in a Warhol-esque way.
Evil twins.
Like The Thinker! Only...not so much.
One last shot before kissing off.song heard most recently before posting:
Woman Like a Man—Damien Rice
Monday, August 13, 2007
Pennsylvania barbarism
My dad called this weekend to tell me that some sadistic little fucks (my words, not his) attacked his neighbor’s pet Emus in the middle of the night. They were bludgeoned with a club; one died and two more were injured so severely, they may need to be euthanized. The Emu who died also got his foot chopped off and was decapitated; the kids took his head with them when they left the scene (one of their fathers found it the next morning, which is how they were caught). The state police were called, but they didn’t seem to take the situation very seriously. The owner is devastated, as are Dad and Jill. I’m heartbroken as well; I loved visiting those lovely, willowy Emus every time I was at their house. Poor Dad had to go out there with a digital camera and snap photos of the dead bird and his severed head (for documentation purposes), since no one else could bring themselves to do it. He’s going to help the bury the Emu today, too.
I emailed Dad and Jill a pile of information today, to help them with their fight for justice. The case looks like it could teeter between two different categories of definition: one that would make it a third degree felony and one that would make it a second degree misdemeanor. Obviously we want it to fall into the former category so a stiffer sentence (up to seven years’ jail time and up to a $15,000 fine) can be given.
This is a very serious situation; I’m not just saying that because I’m an animal lover who is appalled by the sheer brutality of this act against such innocent, gentle animals. I’m also concerned about what else these boys are capable of doing to other animals and/or people. I certainly wouldn’t want them roaming around my neighborhood. Violence generally doesn’t occur in a vacuum. A bunch of normal, ordinary teenagers, when hanging out at night, usually don’t say (no matter how bored or devilish they’re feeling), “Oh, hey, why don’t we go bludgeon someone’s pet to death, then cut off his head? Yeah, that sounds cool.” Sneaking into your dad’s liquor cabinet when you’re with your friends is one thing. Clubbing and decapitating someone’s pet is another. What else are these kids capable of doing?
Studies in psychology, sociology, and criminology have repeatedly shown that violent offenders often have childhood and adolescent histories of serious and recurring animal cruelty. For the past 30+ years the FBI has recognized the connection between violence against animals and violence against humans, when its analysis of serial killers suggested that most had killed or tortured animals as children. Other research has demonstrated repeated patterns of animal cruelty among perpetrators of more widespread forms of violence, including child, spouse, and elder abuse. The American Psychiatric Association considers animal cruelty one of the diagnostic criteria of Conduct Disorder, a disorder where, without treatment, many youngsters reach adulthood without the ability to adapt to its demands, often causing them to break laws or behave in an antisocial manner.
All animal cruelty is troubling, but intentional cruelty is particularly alarming because it often indicates that an individual may be predisposed to committing acts of violence in the future.
For advice on making your state’s anti-cruelty laws more effective in the future, you can contact The American Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals (ASPCA) Legislative Services Department at legislativeservices@aspca.org or The Humane Society of the United States (HSUS) Government Affairs Section at legislation@hsus.org.
song heard most recently before posting:
Trio pour piano, violon, et violoncelle: final—Maurice Ravel
I emailed Dad and Jill a pile of information today, to help them with their fight for justice. The case looks like it could teeter between two different categories of definition: one that would make it a third degree felony and one that would make it a second degree misdemeanor. Obviously we want it to fall into the former category so a stiffer sentence (up to seven years’ jail time and up to a $15,000 fine) can be given.
This is a very serious situation; I’m not just saying that because I’m an animal lover who is appalled by the sheer brutality of this act against such innocent, gentle animals. I’m also concerned about what else these boys are capable of doing to other animals and/or people. I certainly wouldn’t want them roaming around my neighborhood. Violence generally doesn’t occur in a vacuum. A bunch of normal, ordinary teenagers, when hanging out at night, usually don’t say (no matter how bored or devilish they’re feeling), “Oh, hey, why don’t we go bludgeon someone’s pet to death, then cut off his head? Yeah, that sounds cool.” Sneaking into your dad’s liquor cabinet when you’re with your friends is one thing. Clubbing and decapitating someone’s pet is another. What else are these kids capable of doing?
Studies in psychology, sociology, and criminology have repeatedly shown that violent offenders often have childhood and adolescent histories of serious and recurring animal cruelty. For the past 30+ years the FBI has recognized the connection between violence against animals and violence against humans, when its analysis of serial killers suggested that most had killed or tortured animals as children. Other research has demonstrated repeated patterns of animal cruelty among perpetrators of more widespread forms of violence, including child, spouse, and elder abuse. The American Psychiatric Association considers animal cruelty one of the diagnostic criteria of Conduct Disorder, a disorder where, without treatment, many youngsters reach adulthood without the ability to adapt to its demands, often causing them to break laws or behave in an antisocial manner.
All animal cruelty is troubling, but intentional cruelty is particularly alarming because it often indicates that an individual may be predisposed to committing acts of violence in the future.
For advice on making your state’s anti-cruelty laws more effective in the future, you can contact The American Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals (ASPCA) Legislative Services Department at legislativeservices@aspca.org or The Humane Society of the United States (HSUS) Government Affairs Section at legislation@hsus.org.
song heard most recently before posting:
Trio pour piano, violon, et violoncelle: final—Maurice Ravel
Monday, July 30, 2007
a bit of culture
On Friday night I met up with a big group of coworkers at Sabang, a brilliant Indonesian restaurant with a massive vegetarian menu that includes an array of vegetarian seafood. It was fun and the dinner lasted until 10pm, which is positively scandalous for a hermit like me.
I had an embarrassing incident when I first arrived. I walked in and I heard someone say, “Oh, here’s another one!” and she motioned for me to come over to her table. I didn’t recognize the three people at the table, but since I’d never met one of the coworkers who was going to be at the dinner, and since I didn’t know most of the spouses who were going to be there, either, I just assumed that these people were either spouses or last-minute-addition coworkers who I hadn’t met yet.
They introduced themselves and started gabbing about how one of them had gotten arrested for passing out Impeach Bush buttons somewhere. That definitely made them seem like people from my office. (What can I say? We’re a liberal bunch.) But slowly I began thinking, “Wait a minute...am I at the wrong table? Something doesn’t feel right.” So I mumbled something about needing to run outside to check my voicemail, and I hid in the lobby, waiting to see if any coworkers showed up. They did, and when we walked into the restaurant together, they didn’t go to the table where I’d just been. So I had been at the wrong table after all! D’oh! I tried to shrink down into my seat so my original dining companions wouldn’t see me and wonder what the hell I was doing sitting with an entirely different group. But even if they didn’t see me, they still must’ve been wondering what was up with that weird girl who sat down with them, introduced herself, and then disappeared into the night.
On Saturday I worked on freelancing for a few hours and then hit a Capital Fringe Festival play, The Lesbian and the Flying Pig. It was about the US under Christian fundamentalist rule, and it was funny, moving, and scary. (Scary mainly because a Christian fundamentalist is currently in charge of the US; he may not be of Handmaid’s Tale proportions, but still!) As the play was only a block away from the National Portrait Gallery/Smithsonian American Art Museum, and there was an hour between when the play ended and the museum closed, I decided to browse through their modern art wing. I was quite entranced with one Andrew Wyeth painting I saw, but finding a copy for my apartment is proving to be very difficult.
On Sunday morning I went to a coworker’s son’s bris and naming ceremony at her house. It was my first bris and I loved every minute of it. The rabbi was hilarious and the whole ceremony was just so moving, lovely, and meaningful. They had quite the lunch spread, so two other coworkers and I settled down after the ceremony with plates of food and spent a good hour or so eating and chatting. We really hit it off with one guy at our table—a Manchester, England, native.
In a different vein, this is an avatar I created on Yahoo a few weeks ago. It’s as close as I could come to making an avatar who looks like me. I gave her my brown hair, blue eyes, black-framed glasses, and square face, and put her in an outfit that looks like my clothing. I made her look pissed off, too. Fitting!
song heard most recently before posting:
Shady River—The Chapin Sisters
I had an embarrassing incident when I first arrived. I walked in and I heard someone say, “Oh, here’s another one!” and she motioned for me to come over to her table. I didn’t recognize the three people at the table, but since I’d never met one of the coworkers who was going to be at the dinner, and since I didn’t know most of the spouses who were going to be there, either, I just assumed that these people were either spouses or last-minute-addition coworkers who I hadn’t met yet.
They introduced themselves and started gabbing about how one of them had gotten arrested for passing out Impeach Bush buttons somewhere. That definitely made them seem like people from my office. (What can I say? We’re a liberal bunch.) But slowly I began thinking, “Wait a minute...am I at the wrong table? Something doesn’t feel right.” So I mumbled something about needing to run outside to check my voicemail, and I hid in the lobby, waiting to see if any coworkers showed up. They did, and when we walked into the restaurant together, they didn’t go to the table where I’d just been. So I had been at the wrong table after all! D’oh! I tried to shrink down into my seat so my original dining companions wouldn’t see me and wonder what the hell I was doing sitting with an entirely different group. But even if they didn’t see me, they still must’ve been wondering what was up with that weird girl who sat down with them, introduced herself, and then disappeared into the night.
On Saturday I worked on freelancing for a few hours and then hit a Capital Fringe Festival play, The Lesbian and the Flying Pig. It was about the US under Christian fundamentalist rule, and it was funny, moving, and scary. (Scary mainly because a Christian fundamentalist is currently in charge of the US; he may not be of Handmaid’s Tale proportions, but still!) As the play was only a block away from the National Portrait Gallery/Smithsonian American Art Museum, and there was an hour between when the play ended and the museum closed, I decided to browse through their modern art wing. I was quite entranced with one Andrew Wyeth painting I saw, but finding a copy for my apartment is proving to be very difficult.
On Sunday morning I went to a coworker’s son’s bris and naming ceremony at her house. It was my first bris and I loved every minute of it. The rabbi was hilarious and the whole ceremony was just so moving, lovely, and meaningful. They had quite the lunch spread, so two other coworkers and I settled down after the ceremony with plates of food and spent a good hour or so eating and chatting. We really hit it off with one guy at our table—a Manchester, England, native.
In a different vein, this is an avatar I created on Yahoo a few weeks ago. It’s as close as I could come to making an avatar who looks like me. I gave her my brown hair, blue eyes, black-framed glasses, and square face, and put her in an outfit that looks like my clothing. I made her look pissed off, too. Fitting!
song heard most recently before posting:
Shady River—The Chapin Sisters
Friday, July 27, 2007
an interlude of miscellany
My hair. I’m chomping at the bit to hack it off. For the past few years I’ve gone through these cycles wherein I grow my hair long, cut it all off, donate it to charity, and then grow it long again. The last two times I did this, the hair went to Locks of Love (the picture to the left 
was taken after my last big cut, in December 2005). During this round I decided I wanted to do something different; namely, donate it to Pantene Beautiful Lengths so it would go to a woman with cancer. They only require an eight-inch ponytail, and since mine is now clocking in at nine inches, I knew I was finally free to chop it. Only…no. Turns out they don’t accept dyed hair, and I finally had to resort to dyeing mine a few months ago, since it’s turning white at warp speed. And even though I didn’t dye my hair at all between the ages of 17 and 32, it’s still exempt from donation. I’m disappointed! I guess I’ll just have to give it to Locks of Love again, as they take dyed hair. However, their minimum requirement is a 10-inch ponytail, so I’ll have to wait another month or two before it’s long enough to donate. Gah!
Plath. I was so pissed at him earlier this week, because he killed a poor little bird when I took him and Freyja in the yard to get some fresh air. When we’re outside I watch them carefully to make sure they don’t attempt to leave the yard, but I guess no amount of careful watching can stop a cat from spontaneously ripping a bird from the sky. Here’s what I don’t get: Plath is overweight, 10 years old, on Prozac, and has been a housecat his entire life. Yet somehow he’s able to leap into the air with the speed and acumen of a cheetah to suddenly pluck a bird out of mid-flight. How does he do it?? He killed one other bird in the past, as well as a mouse. Obviously I need to keep this cat away from the great outdoors! My backyard is turning into a graveyard. If I were a rapper I’d have to go by the name Gravedigga, especially since I had to dig a mouse grave at my mom’s house the other week, too, after her boyfriend killed the poor little fellow.
I’m partially to blame for the bird’s demise, but that didn’t stop me from being a passive-aggressive bitch who refused to talk to Plath for a few days, aside from saying things like, “I’m going to the courthouse tomorrow to get your name legally changed to Plath Wayne Gacy” and “Oh, you want some of this pizza, eh? Well, I bet the bird you killed would like some of it, too. Only HE’LL NEVER EAT AGAIN.”
Lindsay Lohan. She should go to jail. Yes, addiction is a terrible disease, and I do think it would be a shame if she didn’t get the medical help she needs for her addictions, but the bottom line is that she broke the law. Several laws, actually. Having an addiction shouldn’t give you a Get Out of Jail Free card. If Joe Schmo got busted twice for DUI, and both times he had cocaine on him, and he had been drinking underage during the first DUI charge, his ass would be in serious trouble. It wouldn’t simply be a matter of sending him to rehab to wipe the slate clean. Why should Lindsay Lohan be any different? People can break many laws in the name of addiction, and I don’t see the justice in letting them escape punishment for it—especially when those broken laws could cost other people their lives. Should a sex addict avoid jail time if his addiction causes him to start raping women? Should a gambling addict avoid jail time if his addiction causes him to start robbing banks? I personally think Lohan should go to rehab and do some jail time. Hey, at least it will keep her out of the clubs for a while.
Michael Vick. The other day I got into an online debate regarding Vick and the charges against him. I said that I wanted nothing to do with Nike until they drop their sponsorship of them. They have put aside their plan to endorse his shoes, but they haven’t dropped him from their roster completely.
Someone retorted:
He replied:
Someone else wrote:
The debate dwindled down after that. Vick’s trial is slated to start in November. It’ll be interesting to see how this plays out...
song heard most recently before posting:
Good Times Gonna Come—Aqualung
was taken after my last big cut, in December 2005). During this round I decided I wanted to do something different; namely, donate it to Pantene Beautiful Lengths so it would go to a woman with cancer. They only require an eight-inch ponytail, and since mine is now clocking in at nine inches, I knew I was finally free to chop it. Only…no. Turns out they don’t accept dyed hair, and I finally had to resort to dyeing mine a few months ago, since it’s turning white at warp speed. And even though I didn’t dye my hair at all between the ages of 17 and 32, it’s still exempt from donation. I’m disappointed! I guess I’ll just have to give it to Locks of Love again, as they take dyed hair. However, their minimum requirement is a 10-inch ponytail, so I’ll have to wait another month or two before it’s long enough to donate. Gah!Plath. I was so pissed at him earlier this week, because he killed a poor little bird when I took him and Freyja in the yard to get some fresh air. When we’re outside I watch them carefully to make sure they don’t attempt to leave the yard, but I guess no amount of careful watching can stop a cat from spontaneously ripping a bird from the sky. Here’s what I don’t get: Plath is overweight, 10 years old, on Prozac, and has been a housecat his entire life. Yet somehow he’s able to leap into the air with the speed and acumen of a cheetah to suddenly pluck a bird out of mid-flight. How does he do it?? He killed one other bird in the past, as well as a mouse. Obviously I need to keep this cat away from the great outdoors! My backyard is turning into a graveyard. If I were a rapper I’d have to go by the name Gravedigga, especially since I had to dig a mouse grave at my mom’s house the other week, too, after her boyfriend killed the poor little fellow.
I’m partially to blame for the bird’s demise, but that didn’t stop me from being a passive-aggressive bitch who refused to talk to Plath for a few days, aside from saying things like, “I’m going to the courthouse tomorrow to get your name legally changed to Plath Wayne Gacy” and “Oh, you want some of this pizza, eh? Well, I bet the bird you killed would like some of it, too. Only HE’LL NEVER EAT AGAIN.”
Lindsay Lohan. She should go to jail. Yes, addiction is a terrible disease, and I do think it would be a shame if she didn’t get the medical help she needs for her addictions, but the bottom line is that she broke the law. Several laws, actually. Having an addiction shouldn’t give you a Get Out of Jail Free card. If Joe Schmo got busted twice for DUI, and both times he had cocaine on him, and he had been drinking underage during the first DUI charge, his ass would be in serious trouble. It wouldn’t simply be a matter of sending him to rehab to wipe the slate clean. Why should Lindsay Lohan be any different? People can break many laws in the name of addiction, and I don’t see the justice in letting them escape punishment for it—especially when those broken laws could cost other people their lives. Should a sex addict avoid jail time if his addiction causes him to start raping women? Should a gambling addict avoid jail time if his addiction causes him to start robbing banks? I personally think Lohan should go to rehab and do some jail time. Hey, at least it will keep her out of the clubs for a while.
Michael Vick. The other day I got into an online debate regarding Vick and the charges against him. I said that I wanted nothing to do with Nike until they drop their sponsorship of them. They have put aside their plan to endorse his shoes, but they haven’t dropped him from their roster completely.
Someone retorted:
Um, let me double check on something. Yep, there it is presumption of innocence. Or, as we laymen like to say: “innocent until proven guilty”.I responded:
What if (and yes, I read the whole indictment, honest, you can read it on line) he really had nothing to do with it? Or he isn’t convicted of any wrong doing? And you’re Nike, and you dropped an innocent man from your payroll? Then what?
Well?
As for Michael Vick, yes, he could be innocent. That’s for a jury to decide, not me. Personally—and I know my opinion doesn’t mean anything in the end—I think he’s probably guilty. A very intensive long-term investigation found, on his property, 52 pit bulls and dogfighting equipment such as forced breeding stand, treadmills, performance-enhancing drugs, and a bloodstained fighting pit. Is it possible all that stuff was on his property and he knew nothing about it? If he doesn’t actually live there—if he bought the house for his cousins, as he claims—he might not know about it, but then again, doesn’t he have a single staffer who could report to him what’s going on? Doesn’t he ever visit this property? If he visited it even shortly he would’ve seen the bloodstained pit at the very least.
But still, he could be innocent and losing his endorsement over nothing. And you know what? I don’t even care. Call me callous or bitchy or heartless or whatever, but honestly, I could care less if he loses his endorsement deal while he’s innocent. I never want to see an innocent man go to jail, but losing an endorsement deal when he’s already a millionaire? I ain’t shedding any tears over that. Countless innocent people have been falsely accused of crimes in this country, and that’s a damn shame—that’s a major flaw in the system—but it happens, and most people don’t have millions of dollars to fall back on when it happens. If Vick is innocent and lost his endorsement deal or his job with the Falcons unfairly, his career isn’t over. Celebrities always get second and third and fourth chances. Normal people rarely do. Some other team will hire him, and somebody else will give him an endorsement deal, and he’ll make millions more selling his story to the tabloids.
He replied:
I know this is a tough case to put your personal feelings away, but it’s entirely possible that he’s totally innocent. And that he feels just as badly about this as you do. His peeps never told him about it becasue they knew he wouldn’t approve. And yes, isn’t it possible that he never stays at the house, he just bought it for his friends and cousins to live in.
Possible, yes?
So, it seems to me, your arguement boils down to the fact that he’s rich, and likely to get richer no matter what happens. So to hell with him, and the system.
OK. that’s fine. I feel your pain. Be pissed at M Vick.
I’m not sure what Nike’s guilty of here.
Someone else wrote:
This sounds like the same thing - is it a boycott if you don’t already use their product/service? How much business had you done previously with Nike?I replied:
The other part of your argument is just emotionally flammable. I understand that this is a news topic, but people (not just you) really are starting to sound like a torch-carrying angry mob. How many folks had those Duke lacrosse players convicted of rape the minute the story broke? If that isn’t all the proof anyone will ever need to make sure we let the whole story play out before we ruin someone’s good name, then I don’t know what would do.
Does my gut say that he is guilty of something? Yup. Do I think his career is over? Yes, again. He may have millions now - but his earning power is severely damaged simply based on the outstanding accusation. Nike, the NFL and anyone else who does business with Michael Vick all need to reassess their business relationship. Right now, he is a cancer - and this is not something that will go away. This is the biggest sports story of this decade - as big as Pete Rose in the 80’s and OJ in the 90’s.
My understanding, by the way, is that the NFL and Nike have both removed all Michael Vick merchandise from their respective web sites. Nike has (at least for the moment) delayed a Michael Vick-related product launch (shoes?). So, if there are still fringe groups (PETA isn’t the most reliable unbiased source, in my own opinion) that are calling for a Nike boycott, it is possible that they have an agenda outside of this incident.
QUOTE
is it a boycott if you don’t already use their product/service? How much business had you done previously with Nike?
Like Carrot Cake Man said earlier:
QUOTE
Yes, if I talk about it, and convince others not to [go] there who did before.
I’m desperately unathletic, so aside from buying a single pair of Nikes two years ago (and that was only so my feet wouldn’t be destroyed during a walking-intensive vacation), I don’t use Nike products. There has just never been a need for them for my torpid life. But I know people who do use Nike products quite a lot, and that’s where my boycott comes in. Will they listen to me? Who knows. Probably not. But I tried.
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NFL and Nike have both removed all Michael Vick merchandise from their respective web sites. Nike has (at least for the moment) delayed a Michael Vick-related product launch (shoes?)
Yeah, and it’s my understanding that this was driven in part by the outrage of people appalled by the dogfighting charges—people who were boycotting Nike and the NFL and phoning them with their complaints. The media focus also had a lot to do with it. If none of this had happened, would Nike and the NFL be pulling that merchandise? Maybe. I don’t know. This is why I was doing the boycott—to get the merchandise and the endorsement pulled. If Vick is proven innocent, then, as far as I’m concerned, they can sell all the Vick products they want and endorse him all they want.
I agree that people are starting to sound like a torch-carrying angry mob, and it’s not my intention to join them. Mass hysteria and witch hunts don’t appeal to me at all. I’m not baying for blood—I’ve just been telling people how I feel about the issue and then letting the justice system do its job.
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I know this is a tough case to put your personal feelings away, but it’s entirely possible that he’s totally innocent. And that he feels just as badly about this as you do. His peeps never told him about it becasue they knew he wouldn’t approve. And yes, isn’t it possible that he never stays at the house, he just bought it for his friends and cousins to live in.
Possible, yes?
It’s absolutely possible. Still, I have to wonder how much responsibility property owners should have for property they don’t live in. If you own a house and give it to your friends and they use it for sexual slavery, should you be held partly responsible for this, even though you didn’t know what was going on? I honestly don’t know. It doesn’t seem fair. Yet how fair was it for the people forced to be sexual slaves? Who was looking out for them? Maybe the one thing that could’ve saved them was a landlord/property owner taking some time to periodically check on his/her property to make sure everything was okay.
It’s kind of a murky, gray area, and if anything good comes out of this Vick case (aside from those dogs being rescued), maybe it can be a clarification of the extent of responsiblity a property owner carries when s/he doesn’t live in the property.
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So, it seems to me, your arguement boils down to the fact that he’s rich, and likely to get richer no matter what happens. So to hell with him, and the system.
Well...yeah, basically. Not the part about the system, though. I think the judicial system needs an overhaul because it’s deeply flawed, and the fact that very little is being done about it is a tragedy.
Look, I’m not professing to be unbiased here. I’m totally biased. I’ll readily admit that I’m not a big fan of rich celebrities and athletes who usually think they’re above the law. And I’ll readily admit that when it comes to animal cruelty cases, my first line of defense is for the animals who suffered, perpetrators—guilty or not—be damned. I always take the animals’ side first. No, it’s not fair for me to give a toss about the people accused of animal cruelty. It’s not fair for me to be biased. But I work in the animal protection field and every single day I hear news about horrific acts of cruelty against animals. Today, for example, I got to work and the first thing I saw on email was a press release about two girls who held down a kitten in California and set him on fire. This is what I see every day. After five years it’s getting hard to set aside compassion for the dogfight ring leader or the puppy mill owner or the cat decapitator who might be innocent, especially when investigative facts point to the contrary. It’s hard for me to give those people the benefit of the doubt, because all I see are the mutilated and abused animals. This is my personal bias.
Why not leave my job? Because, daily horror aside, I love my job. I love that I’m doing my part to make a difference in animals’ lives. It’s the same reason my boss’s wife loves being a chemo nurse, even though it means seeing death and despair on a daily basis.
The debate dwindled down after that. Vick’s trial is slated to start in November. It’ll be interesting to see how this plays out...
song heard most recently before posting:
Good Times Gonna Come—Aqualung
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