Jail is Gone
I have little tolerance for looting. That being said, and given the circumstances, I could sort of understand why people who are trapped by water and can't get out of their neighborhood were looting stores for food and water.
But this morning on TV, they filmed a guy looting a flat screen TV. Are you kidding? Other people are taking stereos and other non-essential items. You probably don't have a house, where you going to put a TV? Totally unacceptable.
And why are these people still floating (no pun intended) around anyway? I mean everyone was supposed to evacuate. Obviously there are the elderly, handicapped, or others who were legitimately unable to evacuate, but what about all the others? What's wrong with those people? They're DUMB. That's what's wrong with those people. There's a bunch of dumb people stealing things down there in New Orleans. Because they can. Looting for looting's sake. These people are on TV telling reporters that they're just stealing because they can.
That's perfect. And the New Orleans Police Commissioner was on CNN this morning and seems like he doesn't know which way is up. The dumb, looting people are telling his officers, "Go ahead and arrest me for stealing. Where are you going to take me? The jail is GONE."
I know that looting seems like the least of the concerns in New Orleans right now. But looting is a symptom of something larger: overall civil disobedience. There will be more looting. And with that, comes violence. It's such a shame that in the wake of a natural disaster, people are complicating things by becoming monsters.
Stupid looters.
The Worst of Humanity
Speaking of sad, my heart breaks for the areas affected by the hurricane, particularly New Orleans--a city I love. The destruction seems overwhelming. So does the desperation. Nothing else can explain the violence and looting. We really can become animals.
It amazes me that in a country like the United States you could have total infrastructure failure in cities.
Letto The Ghetto
I'm watching a show on VH1 called "Where's My Ghetto
Pass?" and I think I'm horrified. I don't understand the glorification of the ghetto over the last several years. People work hard to
leave the ghetto. You're not supposed to want to go back. It's not supposed to be cool. It's not a badge of honor. What's next? Welfare's cool? Welfare's not cool. The ghetto isn't cool. It's all very sad.
O'Brien
Okay I don't love him as much or in the same way I loved Bill Hemmer, but Miles O'Brien is growing on me. I'm particularly enjoying
his blog about Katrina.
Office Max
My favorite commercials EVER are the Office Max
Rubberband Man ones. I just start cracking up every time they come on.
Of course I don't shop at Office Max but these commercials totally make me feel like I should.
Mark Wahlberg is Stalking Me
My church has two entrances to its chapel on either side of the building. Those entrances lead to descending stairs that meet in the middle to a central chapel entrance. Yesterday I went to 5:15 Mass and opened the door to the building and started down the stairs. I could tell that someone on the opposite side had opened that door and was headed down the stairs towards me. When got close to the bottom of the stairs I could see who he was and he could see who I was.
Of course it was Mark Wahlberg.
I got to the central door first, opened and held it open. He thanked me. I sat down in a pew, he and his posse sat down two pews in front of me. Again he said "Peace be with you" during the sign of peace. Again he left before the Mass was over.
I hear he's in town filming some football movie. Personally, I think he's stalking me.
The Dry Hump
They say gallantry is dead. Not so, I say.
I rewarded myself for being fabulous yesterday by leaving the office at noon and enjoying the gorgeous day. And I mean gorgeous. I want this weather to last forever. Like many people in my neighborhood too, I put on a modest bathing suit set out to the park to catch some rays. Yes, some people in the city sunbath in parks. Kind of crass, I know, but....a girl's gotta do what a girl's gotta do.
So I'm laying on a blanket in the park reading a book, propped up on my elbows. I notice out of the corner of my eye, a man walking a dog coming towards me. I shoot him one of my best don't-even-THINK-about-talking-to-me looks. Regardless, he continues to approach and says, "Excuse me, miss". I take a look at him. My crazy person radar isn't throwing up any red flags with this guy. He's wearing a button-down shirt and is neatly dressed. The dog is beautiful and well-groomed. Neither appears to be crazy, but you ever know when your crazy person radar might be off, so I continue to cock one eyebrow and give him a death stare.
There are of course the crazy people who are obviously crazy. The ones who are screaming obscenities at parked cars, for example. But there are other brands of crazy that are less obvious, but there are clues anyway. Subtle clues. Someone wearing an overcoat in warm weather. A manic look in the eye of an otherwise normal looking person. If you notice someone in front of you who is talking to every other person on the street, that person is probably crazy.
This man who was now crouching in front of me, didn't give off any clues to craziness. He noticed my death stare though and said, "I don't mean to startle you. " He lowered his voice to a whisper, "But there's a man behind you." "Yes?" I say. He looks embarassed and continues, "That man behind you is looking at you and um, ...well, he's humping the ground."
That's fantastic.
The man in front of me says "I just thought you should know." I thanked him (I mean what DO you say to someone who just told you that?) and then he walked away with his dog.
I'm glad I'm just so damn hot that men are falling to the ground and resorting to dry humping grass. I can't make this stuff up, people.
To the guy who approached me's credit, he did a gentlemanly thing in my opinion. Some men hold doors, some let you walk in front of them, some tell you when a crazy homeless person is jerking off while staring at you. Gallantry is not dead.
Virgins
So I'm embarrassed to admit that I went to see "The 40 Year Old Virgin" at the movies this past weekend. I had promised Ron that I would take him to the movies, because he loves going and I don't, so we hardly ever go. And I was feeling like he deserved a special treat for spending hours and days and seemingly months in department stores registering and he didn't complain. Not once. So even thought it wasn't necessarly because for some freakish reason he likes this wedding stuff, I promised to take Ron to the movies.
I'll say this about "The 40 Year Old Virgin": It's damn funny. I wouldn't go see it if, say, you're easily offended by jokes that start with "You know how I know you're gay?" or by women being called "bitches." But honestly, it's all done in such a stupidly funny way, that you can't even be offended. Well, at least I wasn't. Because Steve Carell's character saying "You better put your ho on a leash" is actually really funny. You can't really take stuff like that too seriously.
I know, I'm a disappointment to women everywhere.
Conversations
Telling the engagement story at a party:
Party Guest: So did he get down on one knee?
Me: No, we were in public and he knew I didn't want a scene.
Party Guest: So what did you say when he asked you?
Me: What did I say?
Party Guest: Yeah, he asked, "Will you marry me?" and what did you say?
Me: Well I asked if he was serious and then he showed me the ring and laughed and said that he was serious.
Party Guest: So how did you say "yes"?
Me: Oh. Hey Ron, when you asked me to marry you, did I ever answer you?
R (
thinking for a minute): You know, I don't think you did.
Me (
to Party Guest): Yeah, I don't think I ever answered him.
Party Guest: Well that's okay. You're just still thinking about it. You can still change your mind.
Minus the Funky Bunch
The strangest things seem to happen to me at church. One time I had a life-altering divine intervention that resulted in me breaking up with my boyfriend. Today, I went to 12 p.m. mass, took a seat in a pew and was minding my own business. About 5 minutes into the mass, I heard someone to my left whispering to someone, looked over in that direction and locked eyes with Mark Wahlberg.
Yeah, this
guy.
So I whipped my head back so that I was looking straight ahead and thought "Holy shit, that's Mark Wahlberg." At least I hope I thought it and didn't actually say it outloud. Then I thought to myself, "You're an idiot. What would Mark Wahlberg being doing at church in Philadelphia? It can't be him." So I tried to sneak another peak. He was sitting in the same pew as me about 8 feet away from me. There was no one sitting in between us. Instead of looking directly at him, which was too conspicious, I looked at his shoes. Which were NBA-issued sneakers that were monogrammed with the name "Mark Wahlberg".
It was like GOD was trying to tell me who this guy was. Because honestly, who monograms sneakers?
Anyway, I sat there wishing that I had put some blush and bronzer on and tried to figure out how to much noise my engagement ring would make if I tossed it towards the back of the church. I spent the rest of the mass sneaking peeks at Mr. Wahlberg (couldn't tell you want the readings or homily were about) and here's what I can tell you: First, he actually goes to church. I mean I sort of broadly assumed that Hollywood actors aren't down with the organized religion thing. He knew all the prayers, songs, everything. He also fully kneels at the appropriate point during the Mass, and doesn't do that whole half kneel-half sit thing that drives me crazy. Unless you are elderly or have a medical condition, kneel up straight! Which he did. He went to Communion and stopped the Communion line to let this little old lady in who was walking very slowly. What a gentlemen you are, Mark; can I have your children? He did leave before Mass was over, not right after Communion but before the priest left the alter. But to be fair, if he waited to leave when everyone else did, he would have been mobbed. Well, not mobbed, but certainly approached by someone.
And Mark Wahlberg spoke to me. Words came out of his mouth that were directed at me. He said, "Peace be with you," with a little wave. I've been peaced by Mark Wahlberg, I can die a happy woman now.
Mark Wahlberg is now my favorite actor. I wanted to run up to him after church and say, "You let little old ladies in line, you kneel at Mass, you're an ACTOR who goes to CHURCH. Yes, I will see "Four Brothers" now.
He's staying at the Rittenhouse Hotel, in case anyone is interested.
By the Way
I totally think that
Michelle's tapeworm, Lois, has a twin sister who is residing in my body. I've been eating EVERYTHING lately. Which temporarily is great, until I start to feel so bloated I can hardly move. How does one get rid of a tapeworm?
Pods
Chances are, if you live in a city, you've seen these
Door to Door moving pods. These things never cease to amaze me. You put all your worldly possessions in a pod and leave it out on the street, sometimes for days, and hope it gets picked up. Yeah, somehow I wouldn't be comfortable with that. Maybe I'm just an untrusting soul.
In a similar story, there is a couple who lives around the corner from me who lock up their baby's carriage to the railing outside the house with a bicycle chain. Hello, what brand of crazy are you? We live in a city, you can't just chain your stroller to the front of your house and not expect some drunk to piss on it in the middle of the night.
Song of the Day
Because it's stuck in my head is "Lose Control" by
Missy Elliott.
Grief
You know who's on my nerves?
This lady. The protest lady. I think President Bush
should meet with her. I'd love to hear what her plan is, you know, if we did pull all U.S. troops out immediately. Because I really hope she has a plan other than "pull all U.S. troops out immediately." If not, then what she's really asking is that we totally fuck over Iraqis even more.
I'd love to pull all the troops out tomorrow. I would love to protest this war. I would love for not one more soldier to die. I would love to hold hands with fellow protesters and sign kumbaya and pray for world peace.
But what's the flip side? Someone who wants to pull out now has either come to one of two conclusions: that Iraq will achieve a peaceful existence if we leave immediately, an unlikely outcome, or who cares what the hell happens to Iraq as long as our soldiers are come home. We pull out now and there's a civil war in Iraq that will make the current insurgency look like Candyland. It's a mess over there, a mess we helped make and a mess, it seems, we need to help clean up.
Grief is an awful thing. I imagine it can consume you and
other parts of your life suffer. For that, I do sympathize with this woman.
Weekend
For some reason, there are certain things I get into my head that I don't want to do and then that's it, I really don't want to do them. There's no real rhyme or reason to it. Take Saturday night, for instance. A bunch of Ron's college friends and their spouses are going to dinner in the city. Literally around the corner from where we live. Couldn't be easier for us to go.
Except I don't want to go. I really don't want to go. And I don't have a reason to not want to go. I've met all his friends and their wives. I really like some of them. Some of them I'm sort of "eh" about, but there are none that I dislike. I have nothing else to do Saturday night. I usually like going out to dinner. So what's the problem here? Why don't I want to go?
I have no reasons for you. There is no reason. I've got it in my head that I don't want to go. But go I will and I'll be irritable throughout.
Sometimes I don't make any sense.
Idiots
Stuff like
this irritates me for a couple of reasons: 1. it tries to imply that a judge's personal values might negatively impact his capacity to be fair and 2. it again attempts to lump all us pro-lifers in the same boat with the crazy people who bomb clinics.
Annoying Me
When I remind you that it's your sister's birthday and that you should have sent her a card, respond with, "Oh, you're the fiancee now. It's your job to mail all the cards, even to my family."
You know, I bet 1.5 carats would hurt when it hits your head at 45 mph.
Yard Work
Did anyone catch the video of the "Runaway Bride" Jennifer Wilbanks mowing a lawn as part of her community service? Complete with her state-issued reflective vest? Hysterical. It's obviously the first time she's ever used a lawnmower.
Come to think of it, I've never used a lawnmower. But I'd like to think I'd be smart enough to figure it out.
Implausible
I am a sentimental soul at heart. You wouldn't think it, but I am. I got the quarterly edition of my college's alumni bulletin and as usual, I flipped straight to the back. The back of each issue has news, births, deaths, marriages of alumni sorted by graduation year. I invariably alway look at this section and say, "Oh, so-and-so got married" or "So-and-so had a baby" or "So-and-so joined the priesthood". Well it
is a Catholic college and all.
Anyway, it always makes me a little sad, because I think of the people that I used to know. And I think that's a sad term, "people I used to know." To be fair, I went to school at the kind of place that if I saw any of these people "I used to know" on the street today, we'd squeal and hug and exchange storied. It was that kind of place--you just found kindred spirits there, even if you didn't stay in touch with them. There are few things that make me as nostalgic as college, and so the alumni journal puts me in that sort of mood.
In this particular edition, I learned that a former resident of mine had a baby, which seemed completely implausible to me, as I swear it was only yesterday that she was a freshman. Wasn't it only yesterday that a group of my residents came running to get me in the cafeteria, saying "You've got to come with us, there's something wrong with Jen"? And I ran back to our dorm and there she was, turning blue from throwing up all over the place, refusing to go to the hospital, because her father would kill her if he found out she was drunk. I held her hair and talked to her in soothing, calm words and finally she did go to the hospital. I felt in that moment more like a mother than I ever did anytime before or after that because I was worried about her as though she was an extension of myself. She wound up being one of the residents I was most proud of, because she went from an awkward, whiney girl to a more mature and responsible version of herself within a year.
Now she's a mother. And I used to know her.
Song of the Day
Is "An Honest Mistake" by
The Bravery. The video's cool too.
Austin
Is anyone else watching Real World: Austin? Oh.My.God. Melinda--you're the most needy person ever depicted on TV. And Danny? At the risk of sounding like the most cold-hearted bitch ever, Danny, you need to get a grip. I understand your mom just died, but all your crying, endless crying, and lamenting about how you 'should have been there' isn't going to bring her back, dude. Your sisters are more composed than you are. Take a valium, please. That being said, stay home with your family--don't go back to Austin.
Conversations
Me:
Dammit. I forgot to pick up my pills from the pharmacy again! That's twice I've forgotten to go.R:
Just think, in about a year, you won't have to take them.Me:
Yeah, I know I really want to try the Patch, but not until we're married.R:
No, I mean you wouldn't have to take anything at all.Me:
But....oh. OH.
Welcome Home
Like the big ol' dork I am, I found myself glued to the TV this morning watching the Discovery landing. I've never really paid much attention to NASA stuff, which is weird, because watching the Challenger explosion as a kid is one of the memories I most clearly recall.
Being a bit of a pessimist, I thought the Discovery crew was toast. I didn't want that to happen, but I heard terms like "falling foam" and "ripped thermal blanket" and just thought things weren't going to go so well.
Regardless at 8:12 a.m., I was jumping up and down in my living room clapping my hands. Almost crying.
Welcome home, Discovery.
Glamour
Not everyone can lead the life of glamour that I do. Saturday, Kimberly and I went dress shopping, went to a late lunch, and then decided to end our day by having some adult beverages. We wound up at a wine bar called
Tria, where the cheese was too hard to cut with the butter knife they gave us but the Muscat Canelli wine was sweet and delicious. Next time I'm definitely getting the Nutella Panino.
Nutella and I have had a love affair for years now.
After leaving Tria, we stumbled upon a new restaurant bar called The Devil's Alley, which rumor has it got its name because it's in the former location of a Jews for Jesus center.
Sidenote: Does anyone understand Jews for Jesus? Because to me, they're sort of sounding Christian. ANYWAY, I don't think The Devil's Alley will last--it only opened 10 days ago but it reeks of a trendy spot that's destined to close. It was nice enough for the night though and Deidre and her new beau met us there. We all enjoyed adult beverages until the wee hours of the morning.
Song of the Day
Because it's stuck in my head is "
Listen to Your Heart" by D.H.T.. I loved the Roxette version back in the early 90s.
The Gift Redemption
I have some of the best girlfriends ever. After taking pity on me because of this
gift fiasco, Michelle and Christy gave me a hard-covered edition of "Gone with the Wind". I cannot wait to re-read it again!
So suck it, Guy.
Random Fact:
I think caller ID is one of the greatest inventions of our time.
An Open Letter
Dear Humidity,
Last time I wrote to you, it was to tell you that you suck. Guess what? You still suck. I would like for you to go away. My hair is frizzling out so much that it's scaring small children. I scares me too.
The heat index, which we all know you contribute to Mr. Humidity, is 104 fucking degrees. Un-fucking-acceptable. I do not live in Texas. If I wanted to die from humidity, I would have moved to Texas. But I don't, so I didn't.
You still suck,
Boom
Who's Who?
I got a letter yesterday stating that I've been chosen as a candidate for
Empire Who's Who, something I have never heard of before. Apparently I meet some demographic qualifications to be included in a "Who's Who" directory. I can't help but think it's a huge scam, although they don't require anything of you to be a member. No money, no time, seemingly no strings attached. All I have to do is submit a form they sent that asks for some of my job responsibilities/title etc.
I don't really understand what perks there are to be a Who's Who. They play up the whole networking opportunities thing, but I don't think my field really subscribes to this Empire thing.
And I kind of like flying under the radar so I don't really think this thing is for me.
Fugly
Okay, if you're going to clone a
dog, couldn't you at least have picked a cute dog? That dog is way ugly.
I'm totally opposed to the cloning of dogs, not because of the moral and ethical implications (okay, well yes, those too) but because people who have an unhealthy attachment to their dogs could keep reproducing the same dog. You know, those crazy folks who have their dogs in their wedding party? Or who fly their dogs on private jets? Or who keep their dogs' ashes in an urn on the mantle? Those are the crazy people who will want their dogs cloned. And there will be 15 versions of "Dukes" running around.
It's just not right.
Goodbye Atkins
In December of 2003, I went on the South Beach diet. I don't remember if I told y'all this already. I hadn't joined a gym yet and wasn't exercising, but wanted to lose some weight. Atkins sort of scared me and when I read up on the South Beach diet, it seemed more reasonable. It seemed simple enough: cut all carbs for 2 weeks and then slowly reintroduce them one by one to see which ones your body could handle and which seemed to cause weight gain. No carbs for 2 weeks seemed managable.
It was a fad diet. I knew it was a fad diet. But I did lose over 15 pounds while doing it. By May 2004, I had joined a gym and stopped officially doing South Beach. There were some lifestyle changes for me though as a result of South Beach. I eat breakfast now, every morning. Sometimes it's eggs (or Eggbeaters) and turkey bacon (a South Beach fall back that I had eaten every morning for months), but nowadays it's more likely cereal made with multi-grains and some fruit. Before South Beach, breakfast used to consist of a PopTart.
Another lifestyle change: fewer carbs from processed flour. I used to be all about the pasta 3-4 times a week and BREAD, oh the bread. I still have pasta, but it's probably only about twice a month now. I tried whole wheat pasta, but bleck! I just bought a box of this new
Barilla pasta --we'll see how that goes. Bread happens less often now. I chose whole wheat tortillas over flour. Little stuff like that.
I used to be seriously addicted to candy. Like a candy bar about 4 times a week. Now I hardly ever have candy. Ice cream is a different story. Dessert is still a weakness of mine in general. Other repeat offender is the morning donut which I pick up on my way to work. I go for weeks where I do without the donut. But the last two weeks, there's been a morning donut every work day. Surprisingly, I seem to have lost 2-3 pounds in the last month anyway. YAY, DONUTS.
Anyway, now it seems that Atkins, of which South Beach is a spin-off, is going bankrupt. The fad is over, I guess.
If You Like It
If you like my other blog on wedding plans, please save it as a favorite, as the link will most likely be removed from this blog.
The Look For Less
One of the shows I really enjoy watching is "
The Look For Less" on the
Style network. Actually, as far as I'm concerned there are only about 5 channels on TV: CNN, Style, HGTV, MTV and VH1. Oh, and the Weather Channel--how could I forget that one?
But I digress. I love "The Look for Less." I also love
Elisabeth Hasselbeck, the former host of the show. She was silly and charming, sophisticated and funny. They've replaced Elizabeth with
Joanna House. Oh. My. God. She sounds like she's reading, not well, from a teleprompter. It's just awkward. She has this sort of vacant look in her eyes and looks too young to have injected collagen, but there's some funky-ass thing going on with her lips. And omigod, the eyebrows. I can't even look at the eyebrows.
I'm not sure how she became a model given the lip/eyebrow thing, but one thing's for sure: maybe in some cases, models should be seen and not heard.
