Tuesday, September 26, 2006

SRT #18

If you recall, I had a list of topics to write about. Clearly, I have addressed none of these. Don't complain, just get over it. In all honesty, the more time that passes, the less likely I'll ever write about these things. Nothing of interest has happened lately, and I'm not quite sure if this is a good or bad thing. If this trend continues, I'll vote for bad, but as of this moment, I'm OK with it.

One day, I'll have something worth reading up here. In the meantime, I will continue to pretend to be productive, and I encourage you to do the same.

Friday, September 22, 2006

SRT #17.5

So I alluded to an event which reinforced my belief in karma on Tuesday, and I figure I might as well document said event. So I get the mail on Saturday and look through it, taking out things for me. This includes the usual things: bank statements, bills, and pre-approved credit card applications. However, there's something unexpected also: a greeting card sized envelope. This is strange as I don't usually get cards from people except for my birthday or Christmas. So I'm confused and proceed to open it.

Confirming my assumptions, it is a greeting card, but not fulfilling the usual greeting card goals, such as thank yous or invitations. Instead, it's a greeting card asking me out. I wanted to vomit. Now, this card is blank on the inside, so there is much writing space available. Tell me why fool filled up the entire card to the point where it spills over onto the back. Gross! There were so many wrong things happening in the card, which I will now list.
  1. Fool didn't say who he was until the second "page" of the card.
  2. It notes that he has seen me at church, but I always left the building right after mass, so he was never able to speak to me there. (Thank God!)
  3. It notes my lack of wearing a wedding/engagement ring. This is especially disturbing that he was close enough to me at some point to note which fingers my rings are one. I typically wear three: two on my right (thumb and fourth finger) and one on my left (middle finger). Double vomit.
  4. He apparently has seen my mom at prayer groups and holistic healing meetings. Triple vomit.
  5. It invites me out for a lunch or (this is the good part) to get snacks and conversation. SNACKS! Are we in kindergarten? Do you plan on a pre- or post-recess event? Fool. Who says that?!
  6. He says it seems like I "march to the beat of my own drummer." Quadruple vomit.
Perhaps you're wondering who would send such a card to me? I'll tell you who: a sad (he has to be at least) 30-year-old. Yes. I'm not saying that's really old. But it is for this. Also, I wouldn't be able to pick this fool out of a line up. I do know his sister in passing, but I have no idea who this fool is. Apparently, we all went to the same piano teacher years years years ago, but as he was at least seven years older than me, I still had no idea who he was. (But he apparently remembered me as a nine maybe ten-year-old. Infinite vomit.) According to the card, he is resuming masses at his own church so I can (hopefully) still attend my own in peace.

One of the more confusing aspects of this card is that there is nothing in my church demeanor that says: Come talk to me. I'm a nice, well-adjusted person. Quite the opposite. I generally have a surly expression on my face, which is played up even more when I'm in places I don't want to be, i.e. church. I've made a whole persona based on looking irritated and mean so that people don't bother me when I'm in no mood to be bothered. When I have been forced to interact with someone that doesn't know me at church, they usually express consternation and worry that I'm going to bite their heads off. Bottom line: I am not an inviting person.

"How does this relate to karma?" you ask while scratching your head in confusion. Oh, I will tell you. My senior year of college, a classmate and I always went to the same truck. I liked the truck for a number of reasons. The abundant supply of Snapple Apple and excellent gyros were at the top of the list. So the guy that took the orders began to develop quite the crush on my classmate.¹ Due to a sleepy mishap, he learned her name from me and began to (let's say) woo her. Now, this was infinately amusing on my part because I would continue to frequent his food truck, which was conveniently located right next to the closest entrance to a lecture hall. This culminated at Christmas where he sent her a card (via another classmate) begging for her to "give him a chance." A small part of me has never stopped laughing at this. On many occasions, I would bring up this love for her that transcended all boundaries. They could cook gyros and sandwiches until the rapture.

Unfortunately for the truck guy, my friend never again went back to that truck. Every time I ordered a gyro (extra cucumber sauce, no lettuce), I could see the pain deep within his eyes. Poor poor him.

So the point is, I took way too much amusement from this occurance. And God has decided to punish me by sending a creepy card my way. I get it, God. No more excessive laughter at another's predicament.² Of course, I'll probably relapse at some point, and God will have to send me another karmic sign, causing me to renounce such things again, rinse and repeat. Such is my life.

¹ Friend? I dont' know if calling someone who tries to sexually assult me in the quad is a friend, but that's a different issue.
² Reasonable laugher is a different story, however.

Thursday, September 21, 2006

I Can't Stop Watching This

I can't stop watching this video. For a full minute and twenty-nine seconds, I like animals and have a strange desire to own one. And then I see the poopy stains and renege on that feeling. But still, if you subtract all the various secretions of animals, I would totally buy a puppy, let it grow up, sell it, then buy another puppy.

Tuesday, September 19, 2006

SRT #17

Over the weekend, I learned that karma is a bitch. I'm too sleepy right now to go into the details of the matter, but this is a vital lesson to spread throughout the land: If you take way too much amusement from something that has happened to someone else, karma will ensure that it happens to you in due course.

Monday, September 18, 2006

The Bullseye is Red

Dear Colleagues: Each of you will be receiving a Red Cross kit to be kept in your office in case of emergencies. The bag contains supplies that may be used in the event of an evacuation or if we are forced to "shelter in place." [You don't need to know where I work] will have supplemental supplies (food bars and water) available in the storage room. Please feel to add your own supplies/clothes and/or any medical supplies/prescriptions you may need in the event of an emergency. Thank you.

Is that not a scary e-mail to receive on a Monday morning? I think it is. This is probably the number one reason why it sucks to be in DC: the terrorists are coming for my ass. They're not shooting for the xenophobic hicks of Alabama, they're aiming for my ass. I just don't think the good citizens of Topeka, Kansas are in nearly as much danger. The irony is, I think that the people¹ of DC are of the more anti-war stance, while the Topekans would love to take over Iran.² If this is the case, why can't they just bomb the red states? The blue ones just want out.

Washington, DC has the lowest percentage of military recruits in the country. Doesn't it mean something that the home of the governent barely supports the current government's decisions? The part of the country that is most saturated by politics is disgusted with its current state. However, everyone else that's not in imminent danger is running around just asking for us to get bitch slapped by the rest of the world. This does not bode well for my safety.

In case of a terrorist attack, the Red Cross has provided me with Band-Aids and Aspirin.³ I'm really going to have to start carrying my knife again.

¹ Remember: politicians don't count as people. Not in the strictest sense of the word.

² At least when compared with each other. I have no desire to read up on the latest poll results right now. Also, for all I know, Topeka is a liberal enclave in the middle of a very red state. It just happened to be the first city I thought of in the midwest.

³ Well, I haven't received the kit yet, but I'm sure that's pretty much what's going to be in it.

Wednesday, September 13, 2006

God's Gift to Me

I love Ranch dressing. I have no idea what’s in it¹, but it’s delicious. For all my bitching about things in this world (i.e. heels, idiots, and fake-and-bakes, to name a few), God really pulled through with this ranch stuff. Unfortunately for me, it negates the healthiness of having a salad for lunch.

Yes, sports fans. I am having a salad for lunch. This is definitely not my usual fare. I am the carnivorous type. It’s not a real meal unless I have some sort of dead animal adorning my plate paired with some sort of carbohydrate. In many cases, I will have multiple sources of carbs. I regularly eat potatoes and rice within the same meal. Delicious!

Unfortunately for me, I no longer have the fast metabolism of my teenage years. Over the past four years, my weight has been slowly creeping upwards. This angers me because I refuse to buy bigger pants. I still remember the days of size 0 jeans. Now, I’m up to a size 4. I’m not saying that a size 4 qualifies as fat, but having to buy a whole new set of clothes to accommodate excess fat would suck.² Hence, my decision to have a salad for lunch was wrought. Despite this seemingly healthy decision, I slathered heaps upon heaps of ranch dressing on the unsuspecting pile of vegetables, which subsequently drowned amidst an ocean of lipids.

Ranch dressing is worth being fat for.

¹ Pre-Wikipedia entry, that is.
² And not in a good way.

Tuesday, September 12, 2006

SRT #16

So I was going to Quiznos the other day to grab a Steakhouse Beefdip Sandwich (delicious!), and on the way I pass this dude brushing his teeth. On the sidewalk. While walking! Every few steps he would stop and spit. A very curious* thing to see at 1:00 PM in the nice part of DC. Now, if this was some random homeless person, I wouldn't be fazed in the slightest. But this was clearly some sort of Power Suit walking somewhere with determination. Really, you're doing the power walk to what I can only assume is an important event. It's important enough that you have a total disregard for pushing people out of the way, but not so important that you couldn't brush your teeth before you left home? What is that?

* Curious indeed.

Wednesday, September 06, 2006

Yes, Mr. Weingarten, I Do Want Your Advice

I like to keep up with my Washington Post columns, and this week's Post Magazine has an excellent one from Gene Weingarten. This is for everyone in their twenties who's a little bit lost. I've included some excerpts below, and the entire column can be found here.
For the rest of your life, you will remain locked into whatever music you currently listen to. Trust me, it happens to everyone. It happened to me. Given the quality of popular music of the 1960s, I am fine. Given the quality of popular music of the 2000s, you are toast. Suggestion: Get a job as a jackhammer operator, wear no ear protection, go deaf. At least your taste in music won't make you a source of contemptuous merriment to your children, the way my parents were to me.

Cleanse your language of certain callow affectations common to your generation, for they will not serve you well later in life. I, for example, employed the word "groovy" well into my twenties, until I once used it as a panelist on a TV political talk show, while discussing the sociopolitical ramifications of a gubernatorial veto. The studio audience actually laughed. In your case, when being interviewed about your nomination to the U.S. Supreme Court, you do not want to say, "I was, like, 'No way,' and the president goes, 'For realz, yo,' and . . ."

Practice preemptive temperance. You know how you can get completely wasted one night, and the next morning you're okay? Well, one day, that won't be true anymore. And I mean "one day." This change will occur, literally, overnight, and you will discover it too late, as I did, when I arrived for work unshaven, with mismatched shoes, on a Saturday.

This is vital information for our generation. If you decide to read the entire article, you'll find that much of the advice is specific to men, so guys, take heed and keep that prostate gland in control. A Wal-Mart was not meant to occupy the same space as a walnut.

Tuesday, September 05, 2006

SRT #15

So there have been a number of developments in life which I suppose I could write about, but haven't had the desire to. I really need to be in the correct mindset to concoct an entertaining entry, but it just hasn't happened yet. So here are some previews for the next few entries:

  • I started a new job last Monday.
  • The future leaving of this job.
  • The wedding is finally over. (Not mine,* but the friend for whom we went to Miami for.)
  • A sudden upshot in insecurity.

So as you can see, I do have things to write about, and one day, I'll get to it.

Just not today.

* Barf.


I came across something on Overheard in New York that almost made me spit my drink out onto my monitor: You've had way too much cock in your mouth to be vegan. Super funny, I know. Just wanted to share that.