10 years of blogging!

Today is the 10 year anniversary of my blog!

Here's the weird thing: the first entry in 2002 was some ridonkulous internet quiz about how I would die.  Then, less than 14 hours later, I almost died. In fact, I actually died  a few times, due to cardiac arrest.

It's fitting that my blogging started the same time as the most pivotal event in my life, but it's really really painful to read through my old blog entries. I was so self-absorbed! So naive, but grasping desperately for direction. I'm glad to have my "Roaring 20s" documented I guess, but a lot of it's just cringe-inducing.

I used this blog as a diary for the first 8 years or so. There were only a few people who read it on occasion, and whose blogs I also followed (like The Lucky Nun and Ministry_Victim). I was lucky to meet such unique and intelligent thinkers early on - reading their work only helped fuel my desire to continue documenting my own journey.

Last year, I decided to come out of the blogging closet. It was a tough decision, and I did some pretty heavy editing of those 8 diary years (removing anything referring to illicit drug use, for example... [who, me??]). I still can't post my blog entries on Facebook; there are too many family members and coworkers who might accidentally stumble on something from 2004 that I'm still desperately ashamed of. But I finally decided to stop censoring myself and just go with it.

I guess "going public" was my way of committing to writing. Maybe I'll never be a published writer, but at least I can still write. Does it really matter if anyone reads this? Do I really need validation, when it seems I just need an outlet of sorts?

What's really astounded me is the community of bloggers out there - and I've only scratched the surface. It's absolutely incredible how many talented, hilarious, compassionate people exist on the ole Interwebs. Remember when the only people online were creeps and perverts, circa 1996?

I've been volunteering with Band Back Together since last October; it's a site started by Aunt Becky of Mommy Wants Vodka. I help out by researching and writing resource pages that accompany the posts. For example: You submit a personal story about your father's struggle with lung cancer (or alcoholism, or depression, or whatever). I'll write a resource page about lung cancer (or alcholism, or depression, or whatever) to go along with the post, so that other readers can learn more about the disease that's affected your life. The Band has a two-fold effect: 1) it increases awareness and attacks stigmas and 2) it gives people a place to vent. It can get a little heavy at times, but that just comes with the territory. At any rate, it gives me a way to flex my brain through some light research, and a way to try to be more compassionate (I'm kind of a dick by default, but I swear I'm trying to be a better person).

So whoever you are, if you're reading this: thank you for coming to my cluttered little corner of the Internet and reading my self-involved drivel. You deserve a cookie!

And now I wonder... what the hell is going to happen in the NEXT 10 years??? I know I'm not planning on taking another "how-will-you-die?" quiz again anytime soon!

The State of the Blogosphere 2011

2009 Blogging Statistics 

jewels of the interweb (volume 14)

It gives "$5 footlong" a whole new meaning.

How iPhones are really made.

Humans are like herpes - the gift that keeps on giving.

B.I.G.M.A.C. (and also crop circles)

I watched a National Geographic special about crop circles last night (don't ask me why), and it was the most hilarious thing I've ever seen in my life.

They interviewed an organization named B.L.T., which was formed to research and investigate crop circles. Now, why would they name themselves BLT of all things? Especially because it was clear they really really wanted to be taken seriously.

The narrator said: "Meet Nancy. She's the 'T' in 'BLT'."

I was all by myself, but I actually screamed out "She's the TOMATO!!!"

After speaking with Nancy Tomato, they moved on to talk to another individual (Bob? - not a member of BLT), who does electromagnetic testing on wheat stalks in crop circles.

"Now, Bob knows his wheat, but he thinks BLT is jumping to conclusions." the super serious narrator intoned.

Calm down, BLT! You're making a fool of yourself with all these assumptions of alien activity!

Does this strike anyone else as sort of ridiculous? I mean, in a "field" where everyone already thinks you're crazy, why in the world wouldn't you name yourself something less delicious and more scientific?

My best friend and I have decided to start our own competitive crop circle investigation team. We're going to go by the acronym B.I.G.M.A.C. (Business Integration Group for the Maintenance of Alien Contact). 

If you're interested in joining the team, please direct all inquiries to bigmac@aliensarepeopletoo.com.

politicians + insider trading = LEGAL????

The Daily Show With Jon Stewart	Mon - Thurs 11p / 10c
Stockblockers - Political Intelligence
www.thedailyshow.com
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I'm not a very engaged participant in politics; I vote, but I wouldn't really consider myself to be an outraged citizen.

More of an annoyed citizen, really.

However, after watching this segment on The Daily Show last week, I actually did write my congressman.

CAVEAT: The following statements are riddled with apathy.
It seems a little hopeless, though, doesn't it? Why would politicians take action against a policy that allows them to engage in insider trading legally? It benefits more for them to whistle nonchalantly and try to look innocent until the issue goes away.

CAVEAT: The following statements are sent from atop my soapbox.
This boils down to more than just a debate over right and wrong, fair or unfair. In an age when most Americans distrust their government and blame the wealthy for our economic woes, it's dangerous for any politician to allow themselves to be aligned with or silent on this matter. By supporting "political intelligence," politicians will demonstrate that they are, indeed, members of the wealthy class which Americans hold directly responsible for the economic downturn - and who will want to vote for them then?

CAVEAT: The following statements are riddled with idealism.
Wouldn't it be nice to have representation that would stand up to their peers and publicly demonstrate their integrity to their constituents? Wouldn't this gain them more trust, and ultimately more VOTES? Americans have clearly expressed that we want and NEED our representation to stand apart from the "suits" of DC.

Please write your congressperson about political intelligence, because it's bullshit.

nothing can kill my saturday morning!

Will left again yesterday, on his way back to Burundi (east Africa) for three more weeks of work. He was only back for five days this time, and the jet lag (or yo-yo, as he calls it), is really hard on him.

The separation is what's hard on me! I get used to him being gone; life assumes its rhythm. Then he comes back, and I get used to him being home. Life assumes its alternate rhythm. It's weird to me that having my husband home feels like the exception, and not the norm. Is that bad? I don't know. It's just different.

I think yes, especially if he keeps leaving the toilet seat up in the middle of the night.

That being said, I expected to be really bummed when he left yesterday. I usually spend the first day moping around work and moping around the house before I realize that I actually have friends and shit to do!

It helps that today is a beautiful sunny Saturday, my house is half clean, and my brother is snoring up a chainsaw-type racket in his bedroom. He'll probably wake up in about an hour, at which point I'll put him to work cleaning out the garage (haha, sucker!).

Oh yeah, and I'm going for a girls' vacation in Mexico in 2 weeks. White sandy beaches, here I come!

jewels of the interweb (volume 13)

Oh, Toto...

Seriously, people!

And this... just makes me really happy.

who wants schweddy balls for valentine's day?

I'm not gonna lie; I'm a really crappy gift-giver. I'm not very thoughtful and I loathe shopping... but I WILL spend too much money if you'll only tell me what you want! Seriously, people, just tell me what you want!

My husband is ridiculously hard to shop for. It took TWO MONTHS for me to get his Christmas present, primarily because he just wouldn't tell me what he wanted.

For Valentine's Day, I thought perhaps I should keep the nagging down to a minimum and at least TRY to intuit something he'd appreciate.

Will's a huge fan of ice cream, and he loves Ben & Jerry's. When the flavor "Schweddy Balls" came out last fall, he drove all over town trying to find it. Unfortunately, there were no Schweddy Balls to be had and he finally gave up.

So... for Valentine's Day I thought: "I must find Schweddy Balls! That will be the perfect surprise!"

I searched high and low for Schweddy Balls, but couldn't find them anywhere. Finally, I emailed Ben & Jerry's. They told me that they no longer made Schweddy Balls but I could find them on IceCreamSource.com.

I was excited! Finally, I'd be able to get my hands on some Schweddy Balls! But to my dismay, I found that shipping for 1 pint was $40.

Who would spend $40 on shipping for ICE CREAM? I thought scornfully, as I found myself paying $40 on shipping for ice cream. After all, I did just get that $29.97 class action settlement check in the mail... why not blow it all on ice cream? (<--this is the exact same mentality, albeit on a smaller scale, that makes lottery winners go broke).

Two days later, a large box was delivered to my house. When I opened it, dry ice smoke streamed upward - just like in a science experiment!

The Holy Grail of ice cream flavors.* 

I went to work the next day and told one of my employees about my ice cream delivery. He, too, quickly became obsessed with the concept of Schweddy Balls. "I'm taking my daughter to Ben & Jerry's with her preschool friends tomorrow - do you want me to see if they have any left?" he offered.

I laughed. "Dude, you can check, but there won't be any. I looked all over, and I'm 100% certain there are no Schweddy Balls left anywhere in this town."

That evening, my employee called to say he'd found the last pint, and should he buy it? Then my husband and I could both have Schweddy Balls for Valentine's Day. I sighed and told him to buy it. I couldn't believe how much all these Schweddy Balls were costing me!

And that is the story of how I paid $53 for 2 pints of ice cream. When Will opened his package, I realized that I had no idea which one was the $48 pint, and which was the $5 pint. Theoretically, the $48 pint should taste better, right?

Luckily, Will was thrilled with his gift and I learned a valuable lesson: Never buy Schweddy Balls online when you can find local Schweddy Balls.

Duh.

class action crap

A few years ago, I received notice in the mail of a class action lawsuit against Bank of America - something about improper calculation of foreign currency exchange rates and bogus service fees.

After reading through the mumbo-jumbo, I remembered all the weird bank fees I was charged the year I lived in Moscow. Every time I used my card, I was charged a foreign withdrawal fee, a percentage of the purchase, and (as it turns out), they were calculating their own unofficial exchange rate. Jeebus!

So I decided to add my name to the class action suit. The attorneys made it very easy - all I had to do was rip off a postcard and sign it or something. I don't remember for sure, because it was so long ago.

And then I totally forgot about it.

But this week, I got a check in the mail! It was my class action settlement!

I'm RICH! And don't come banging down my door begging for a hand-out, people!

It was for $29.97!

I'm pretty sure Bank of America got WAY more out of me than $29.97 during that trip (more like $29.97 a month, at least), but it was still nice to get something in the mail.

That will pay for part of a tank of gas! Or part of my groceries!

It could also buy me a Shakespeare Medium Action Travel Mate Telescopic Kit Combo, a Lalaloopsy Silly Hair Doll, a Hustler Mens Bang Bang Tee, or a VitalCell Dietary Supplement!

Yes, I googled "$29.97."

But I didn't factor in taxes or shipping, so I guess I'm still going to owe something out of pocket. Damn you, Bank of America!

can't... stop... listening... to... this... song!

This came on my Pandora mix the other day, and now I'm obsessed. Yes, I might be one of those people who likes the iPod's "repeat" function a little too much. It doesn't hurt anyone when I'm by myself listening to the same song over and over again, now does it?*




*I may have a touch of the OCD. Don't tell anyone!

jewels of the interweb (volume 12)

And God is mean when he's hungry, so FOCUS, kid!

Old School, meet New School. 

(don't tell anyone, but Chuck Norris is actually vegan...)

honeymooned, part 7

I'm astounded by how many posts this damn honeymoon has consumed, so I'm going to summarize the next day a bit (since most of us have a touch of the ADD nowadays):

morning
-back to Montparnasse. Searched for cuff links. Took forever. Wanted to die.
-went to the fanciest mall ever. Took forever. Wanted to die.
afternoon
-ate the biggest omelette ever. Took forever. Wanted to die.
-went back to St. Michel! Had appetizers, cheese, and wine. It was lovely. Wanted to live!
evening
-stumbled upon the most charming holiday market on the Champ du Elysees. Wanted to spend money.
-found the largest tub of Nutella ever. Wanted to eat (again).

It's full of Nutella. I checked.

The holiday market totally made up for our somewhat lackluster day (I blame fatigue from being overly productive the day before). We indulged in mulled wine and oh-so-bad-for-you vendor food, and marveled at the cleanliness of the temporary toilet stands. Then I convinced Will to ride the Ferris Wheel!

The holiday market lined both sides of the street, all the way up to the Ferris Wheel.

View from the top of the Ferris Wheel.

I loved riding the Ferris Wheel and looking at the Eiffel Tower at the same time, since the Ferris Wheel was invented as a response to Eiffel's feat of engineering. Both structures are pretty amazing, folks. It blows the mind when you take the time to think about it: the first Ferris wheel had 36 cars, each of which could hold 60 people and its own lunch counter. 2000 people at a time could ride it, which is AMAZING because modern wheels are so much smaller.

The original Ferris Wheel vs the modern version.

The next morning (our last full day in Paris!) was spent cleaning up our little apartment and packing. I'm an anal-retentive neat-freak, so I scrubbed the place down while Will went to the landlord's flat to print our train tickets. I always tidy up hotel rooms when leaving, but this place was so cozy! I felt it deserved some extra effort.

The landlord's 10 year old daughter was especially interested in how the cleaning efforts were going; she kept giving various cleaning supplies to Will, saying in French: "Do you need a mop? What about sponges? Do you need those?"

Will finally realized - the little girl's job was to clean the apartment if we didn't. No wonder she was so concerned! Will resolved to buy her a Swiffer as a good-bye present but, alas, we couldn't find one.

In the afternoon, we tried to tour the Catacombs but the line was WAY too long (it wrapped around the block!) so we decided to check out Napoleon's tomb instead. It was even more ornate than I'd expected...

"Little man syndrome" manifests itself in a ginormous sarcophagus.

This photo was taken from the second floor, looking down into the tomb area. His corpse isn't even in there, folks! He was cremated, and this giant tomb was created to house a few pounds of ashes. It gave me grandiose ideas for my own final resting place: I want a massive mausoleum on the top of Mt Everest, made entirely of stinky cheese! But make sure to shoot my ashes into space first, ok? 

After Napoleon, we went to the WWI & WWII museum. We got all the way through WWI, but we'd only made it to 1942 in WWII when the museum closed and they kicked us out. Just when it was starting to get good, too!  

And we never got to find out how it all ended...

For dinner, we went to a cute little Italian restaurant in our neighborhood, where the tables were pushed so closely together that the wait staff could barely get through. A friendly old French dude leaned over to us and strongly recommended the veal liver, which... was tempting... ? I don't know, I just have a hard time eating organs. Especially... baby animal organs. *shudder*

We were leaving in the morning to take the train to Strasbourg, and we knew we'd miss Paris. Paris is so classically dedicated to the aesthetics of life (architecture, society, the arts, cuisine, etc etc) that the utilitarian facets of American life are rather underwhelming in comparison. Hemingway once said: "Paris is so very beautiful that it satisfies something in you that is always hungry in America."

Here are a final few things that made an impression on me:

1. Rollerblading is still very alive and well in Paris. Rollerbladers are EVERYWHERE. There are even rollerblade cops!
2. Wine in France is different and I can't quite put my finger on it... but I like that no one's trying to get me to sniff the damn cork. There's no pretension about wine - everyone drinks it, everyone loves it. So simple!
3. Dogs know where they belong! I saw so many dogs wandering around in their neighborhoods, staying close to their respective cafes. They even mingle with the guests occasionally, although most of the time the dogs are just as aloof as the waiters.
4. French crows don't "caw." They say: "Quois! Quois!" It's true; I totally heard it.

As much as we loved Paris, Strasbourg ended up being our favorite part of the trip. More about Strasbourg in the next "Honeymooned" post... 

fear of flying

At the age of 11, he thought: Perhaps I should fly!

He crafted wings from cardboard with shoulder straps of baling wire; he leapt from the roof of the chicken coop with hopeful arms stretched wide.

When he knew the ground again, he was infinitely wiser.

* This is for the Trifecta Writing Challenge - this week's challenge is to write a whole story in 3 sentences. There's still a day left to enter! Do it! 

jewels of the interweb (volume 11)

So THAT'S what happened!

If you encounter this bear in the wilderness, just give up. There's no outrunning this one.

a.k.a. "Marriage"

honeymooned, part 6

After the Louvre, we treated ourselves to one big "splurge" dining experience. We went to La Closerie des Lilas, which is an amazing restaurant/cafe with an incredible history. It's been a congregating point for artists and writers (and celebrities) for decades; Ernest Hemingway even has a permanent plaque built into his old seat at the bar. Others include Paul Cezanne, Samuel Beckett, Salvador Dali, Carl Sagan, Picasso, John-paul Sartre, Oscar Wilde,  F. Scott Fizgerald, Ezra Pound (oh, and Mick Jagger, Tim Burton, Johnny Depp, John Malkovich, and more).

No, I did not feel any smarter or any more creative after eating there. Le sigh. But the food was fantastic (I had smoked herring in a béarnaise sauce that rocked my face off) and I drank the best Mojito (and wine) I've ever tasted in my life.

La Closerie des Lilas, back in the day.

La Closerie, today.

Despite our overly-productive day of touristing, we decided to stroll around Montparnasse after dinner. We wandered by a movie theater that was showing the newest installation of the dreaded Twilight series, and Will said, "Do you want to go see it?"

I was a bit taken aback by his question and quickly shook my head no: "It'll be dubbed over and, even though the plot isn't all that complicated, I won't be able to understand it anyway."

I thought that was the end of the discussion, but Will decided to go in and ask if they were showing the French version. I wasn't sure where he went or what he was doing, so I lit a skinny French cigarette and waited, trying to look all Euro and shit.

Will returned, excited and crowing: "It's in English with French subtitles! Do you want to go see it?"

I couldn't for the LIFE of me figure out why he was so stoked to see Twilight. Or Breaking Dawn, or whatever the f*ck this one is called. However, I wasn't opposed to the idea of sitting in a dark theater with popcorn watching a vapid Hollywood movie (I'm American, after all), so I said yes.

A couple of French girls were seated next to us in the theater. Will struck up a conversation with them while I went to the bathroom and introduced us when I came back. When he left to get popcorn, I discovered one of the French girls spoke English.

She said, "You must be a big Twilight fan, yes?" Her friend nodded beatifically with the smile of someone who doesn't understand English (I smiled like that a LOT like that while people were speaking French [and while I was in Moscow studying Russian]).

She continued: "Your husband tells us you were begging all day to see this film!?"

I burst out laughing. Begging? All day? To see Twilight? Or Breaking Dawn, or whatever the f*ck this one is called? I took great pleasure in explaining that this was actually all my husband's idea, and he must have been too embarrassed to admit that to them.

She explained this to her friend in French, and we all had a good girl-laugh over it. Then I proceeded to tell them about how he'd read all the books twice, went by himself on a Twilight walking tour in Washington state, and how I'd finally forced him to take down all his autographed posters.*

*you're gonna lie about me? I WILL fight fire with fire.

The French girls seemed a little scared of him after that, but luckily the movie was starting...

Afterwards, Will proceeded to bitch about how awful the movie was, how low the production value was, etc. etc. etc. Apparently his high expectations for the film had been dashed? Whatever.

November 18, 2011, goes down as the day in history when I went to a) the Eiffel Tower, b) the Louvre, c) one of the hippest historical artist enclave/eateries in Paris, and d) the latest Twilight movie.

Yes, I am appropriately ashamed.

unlocked cars & unexpected visitors

Last night, I went downtown to get my junk waxed. When I was getting in my car to leave afterwards, a man and a woman ran up to the car parked next to me. They seemed like they were in a hurry, so I waited for them to get in and close their doors.

I opened my car door to leave but then I heard the girl shriek; immediately they both jumped out of the car, slammed their respective doors shut, and ran away screaming: "That totally wasn't our car!!! Where is our car???"

The whole encounter lasted all of 20 seconds, but afterward I looked at my own car with suspicion, wondering: Have any strangers sat in you lately?