tilda

Where are you?

Oh, there you are!

...of my long-held view

again, and weirder than ever.

How Edward and I managed to hide the body

The Great Felt Project is complete, save for the shoulder strap (one from my existing laptop bag is borrowed for the pictures below), so thought I would post some pictures:

Edward + The Great Felt Project

Closeup of bag on Edward's back

Closeup of bag showing snaps

Closeup of carabiner latch

Another closeup of carabiner latch

Bag - with four potential hook-on points for shoulder strap

Edward with bag

That's right. Now time for lunch!

It annoys me how Edward manages to find good books while I end up finding and wasting my time with the most mediocre, boring dreck ...

I'm not one of those people who get all ranty about campaign financing, but I just heard this interesting stat buried in a presentation from Zogby (aired on C-SPAN).

When asked

"Do you think that corporate donations to influence election outcomes is overall a good or bad thing for the political process?"

38% of "business opinion leaders" (yah, whatever that means) who were polled said it was a good thing??

Granted they were in the minority, as 50% said it was bad ... but still ... and 13% said they're "not sure"?

An article that reinforces my hatred of brainstorming!

W00t!

My lunch today appears to have consisted of

• Corn on the cob
• Chestnuts
• An apple

Next up: Acorns?

ATTACK, PIRATE SQUIRREL, ATTACK!

The only redeeming feature of this day is that I will soon have Chick-fil-a Spicy Chicken Nuggets in hand. Where they will not remain for long, I assure you.

totally fictional serial killers - like, I don't know - Patrick Bateman.

Incidentally, I hated every single one of his other books that I've read. But that one was amusing, if only for the awesome rhapsodizing about Phil Collins.

Today was an epic day for posting. I've commented twice here and even posted once there. Must be some sort of record.

weird youtube video of panel at stanford gsb on consulting to non-profits that involves the panelists describing non-profit staff like they're some kind of alien culture.

for example ... get this: non-profit staff DON'T WEAR SUITS. and they're ACTUALLY SMART, TALENTED PEOPLE - not just simpletons who couldn't hack it in the private sector world.

gasp. what golden nuggets of wisdom.

i'd suggest not watching ghost hunters international. because no one needs to see people hunting for "full-bodied apparitions" with what looks like a studfinder and doing "a little mild provoking" of the spirits by telling them "you're a piece of crap."

also don't eat a bunch of frozen peanut butter eggs from easter.

you're welcome.

I don't like writing about work, but I just received an email from my company noting that a "Men's Interest Group" has been launched in our local office. Um, excuse me ... whaaaaa?

What's next? A "WASP Interest Group"?

Thank god those poor men finally have a safe place to network with each other and talk about the challenges they face working at a male-dominated company where most of the leadership is male. I see they're meeting at a bar, as it's a little hot for golfing right now.

I'd be angry, but their mission statement - which I sadly am refusing to paste in here due to my massive paranoia - is too funny for that.

this ...

primarily because it's teetering right at that knife's edge of being an onion article.

to warn the dc populace of impending doom, i'm linking you all to a new post, thus exponentially expanding my collective audience to five, or possibly six!

• look at your watch and tell you what time it is.
• eat creamsicles.

between those two, my expertise is vast and far-reaching.

now that my time has been utterly and completely wasted skimming the first few chapters of this, i'm dead behind the eyes.

to think that i even read the one-star reviews (which are 100% accurate) before purchase ...

get me some numismatic coins, i say!

so of course take with a grain of salt but

(a) i already knew about this site, which makes me feel less like a poseur ... and

(b) these do look pretty frickin awesome! perhaps even enough to get edward over his crippling fear of paper plates.

Sometimes it’s hard to be a woman. Especially when you’re expected to listen to other women talk about giving birth. I’m pretty sure men are never subjected to these stories, and it’s really unfair.

If there’s one thing that mothers and pregnant women love, it’s sharing horrifying stories in which they try to one-up each other in describing the various bodily functions and issues involved in pregnancy.

I remember going to a wedding once where the bride was pregnant, and almost all of her female friends were either recent mothers or about to give birth. I learned a lot at the pre-wedding ladies’ brunch. In fact, I learned so much that lost my appetite.

After that experience, I decided that the only way that I would be willing to have children of my own would be if science intervened. It was the beginning of an idea - one that just requires some minor R&D to make it happen.

But before I get to that, let me just address one common criticism. I know there are some people who think that it’s all magic and rainbows to carry a child. A few people I’ve run this past may have made comments like “cold” and “inhuman”. Well, I bet they said those things about the telephone and email. And I ask – how many of you have even met all 865 of your Facebook “friends”?

It's high time we redefine everything. Let's start with the womb. We’ve had years to endure v 1.0. Let’s make the next version with the users in mind.

I see a lot of benefits.

First and foremost, it’s never been fair that women have had to give up their favorite things for 9 months. Life may be nasty, brutish, and short, but being able to eat soft cheese whenever you want makes it a little more bearable.

The pain of labor may be fleeting, but the weight gain can last.

With the External Womb, you’ll never put on a pound and can even lose weight right up until your “delivery” date!

Based on my very rudimentary understanding, there are a lot of tests and doctor’s appointments involved in pregnancy. With The External Womb, you don’t have to deal with any of that.

Who needs an ultrasound when you can see the baby with your own two eyes?!

I understand that older siblings sometimes have a difficult time adjusting when a new baby arrives. With The External Womb, you can ease that transition by making your baby part of the family before he or she is even born.

Finally, a lot of parents to-be do silly things, like reading the classics to their babies in the womb. I mean - is there something that The Odyssey is going to teach your baby about life in the modern world?

With The External Womb, you can do a lot better than that.

be damned ... this has to be one of the best things that i've randomly found on the internet.

sock monkeys with awesome names! drinking! bad behavior! exotic travel!

... that the author of your all-time favorite book on productivity and organization sits down next to you and edward at a bar.

after going through a brief period of being starstruck that renders you speechless and hyperventilating (yay for tilda the ocd nerd!), you then drink with him and edward for what may have been a couple of hours.

the question is - do you lynndie england him in the photo you take with him at the end of the evening?

according to edward, i do. though i'm not sure i believe it, as i have yet to see the photographic evidence. and really - does that sound like me?

So I've been on a little illustrated post hiatus. One reason was our honeymoon. Another more important reason was that my hand nearly stopped functioning while I was creating my last picture post using the trackpad on my HP Mini. Last week, I finally convinced Edward to look at graphics tablets with me. Only because he was there did I have enough willpower to avoid buying one of the expensive ones. But I love love love love it.

The end result is that there just may be a new posting out there ...

I'm still getting the hang of using it, so the drawings are a little rudimentary. On top of that, the post involves a first - actual drawings of people - so I kind of wanted to make it (gasp) cartoony. I mean, this isn't Mary Worth, for god's sake.

If I can convince my lazy self to upload the images to flickr, I'll cross-post it here. We'll see.

Just the other day, I told Edward as we passed one of those stupid ready.gov signs that such things encourage you to make a kit for a nuclear holocaust, but then you’re eaten when DC is visited by a pack of marauding bears, who really just wanted to get at your stockpile of stagnant water and freeze-dried food. Disasters are disasters because they’re improbable events that no one could anticipate or plan for.

My motto: why bother preparing?

This morning, for example, I discovered two disasters that one could never have imagined:

• DC’s version of the Gulf of Mexico

• The fact that my brain and body shut down entirely outside of a narrow band of temperature (lower bound: 72, upper bound: 78).

I walked through the first on my way to the CVS at 9th & U. It appeared (based on my expert tracking skills) that the driver had started down somewhere east of 9th, sloshing grease out the whole way up T street and then turned north to continue his or her rampage along U. There wasn’t any way around walking through the grease-filled tire tracks, so I was able to find out that they were surprisingly slippery and smelled like Edward’s old deep-fryer. Anyway, after turning up empty when searching “grease” and “grease spill”, I’m pretty sure that ready.gov doesn’t have any kits or plans that would help if this happens again.

Extreme heat, on the other hand, is something that ready.gov has a whole page about. In fact, it recommends that I create a generic “emergency supply kit” containing a bunch of things that will totally come in handy in a heat wave (dust mask, feminine hygiene products, whistle, paper, pencil, matches).

Unfortunately, I never think of hot weather as a problem that one would need to prepare for, and thus would never go to ready.gov to find out what kind of kit to make, because I love hot weather. Well, in theory. The problem really comes down to my ability to step back and take the long view, which I’ve never been very good at. Example being the events of yesterday and this morning:

• Look at iPhone app and discover it’s over 100 degrees!

• Yay! Hate for cold weather and air conditioning that Edward devilishly sets to 68 degrees!

• Wait for Edward to get home from work and then insist on walking from Logan to Dupont Circle to get sushi, despite Edward’s reservations, which could have something to do with the fact that he’s been outside during the day

• Barely make it there. Restaurant air conditioning feels like a slice of cool, icy heaven

• On return walk home, melt down, claiming partial loss of brain and motor function

• Slow pace to 1 mph, become dazed and incapable of speech, collapse several times onto stoops, fountains, and other ad hoc seats

• Reach home and fall into coma

• Awaken, with one ice-cold arm out from under the comforter, cursing Edward for turning the A/C so low

• Restart

tied to executive compensation. feelings of superiority breed contempt ... shocker.

brad may have drawn on a trick or two to open that sticky jar of jam for me, but does he know this trick??

c'est simple!

probability of spectacular failure: high.

need for me to try it: irresistible.

grrrrrrraaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhh. i seriously can't get miike snow out of my head.

maybe the cure is singing the refrain 4,0001 times aloud to myself ... ? if so, I'M WELL ON MY WAY.

a link to download richard clarke's book as a bittorrent.

i think it would be highly awesome to do that. and then go hack into a blender.

favorite blog.

thinks i shouldn't get a graphics tablet until i actually have the money to pay for it.

this will severely hamper my posting abilities.

although edward was sadly otherwise occupied and unable to see the game, i was able to watch the awesome last-minute US victory today!

http://stores.xnicstore.com/Detail.bok?no=760

That's it ... if only the commercial were on youtube. Apparently made in Ghana.

a whole online gallery of bad paintings of barack obama!

Fact: Brad did not think my earlier post was funny.

Question: What does Brad think is funny?

Answer: Usually simple, literal things. Often tiresome or exasperating to others. Let’s find out!

OH ... you want examples! Perfect. The easy way out would be to boil this down to a truism involving urinating puppets. But I don't want anyone to judge Brad unfairly.

So to add some nuance, I have instead provided actual examples drawn from scientific observation conducted over time in the natural environment.

You're welcome, Brad!

although this website is one extended inside joke, and my posts are likely to be amusing to only .001% of the readership (ALL 6 OF YOU), i'd say the next one will divide that share in half.

but first! i must go to my final dress fitting! hope i've got the day right for this at least.

also, it's a first, but i'm actually working on something more broadly appealing. however, that won't be done for another day or so, since i'll have about 2 hours after I get home from the fitting to map out our wedding ceremony. F&%K! F&%KETY F&%K. F&%k. f&%k.

procrastination is the devil.

makes the unexpected cookies you receive THAT much tastier!

i felt it necessary to jump in with a full post at this point to clear up some grave misconceptions.

look. i appreciate the analogies about hookers with severed arms. but to suggest that is to suggest that joyce should have used coherent sentences with real words or that faulkner should have included more clowns in his stories.

what do i mean by that? i mean that you're missing the point. would that i WERE using some hypothetical "tildialect" in my last posting.

however, i think what's actually been highlighted here is not my inability to communicate through the use of visual aids, but your ignorance of serious threats to safety and security.

it seems that you, brad, are blind to the extreme physical danger presented by the seemingly innocuous butterfly, bloodthirsty praying mantis, demonic house centipede, et al. edward also has exhibited some confusion in this area, as evidenced by past statements. it's enough to make me think that neither of you were born with an intact sense of self-preservation.

i beg you - look again at those diagrams - perhaps reading the text this time. i hope that you at least understand the danger of the rabid zombie hyena. as for the others, i feel they all too clearly and graphically explain the ability to do grave bodily harm that each of those bugs holds in its tiny, disgusting, jointed claws.

in summary - and i hope this will clear things up - my main purpose in creating that post was public education. while it was important to me to provide insight into my crushing insecurities, i also thought it was high time that everyone possessed the same knowledge that i do about these wolves in insects' clothing.

so i thank you for providing me with an important teachable moment.

I am definitely a social phobic.

Edward refuses to believe this – meaning he either is blinded by love for me or I hide it well through a complicated set of compensation and protective measures. Probably the former.

I’ve never been too nervous about public speaking or giving presentations. However, situations that involve unscripted interaction with actual humans (i.e., 89% of daily life) fill me with a anything from mild fear to abject terror.

It’s often difficult to explain exactly HOW scary social situations can be to those of you who gleefully walk up to strangers and begin chatting like old friends.

However, I’ve found that most people can empathize with being afraid of things that present actual, physical threats.

Therefore, to bridge the communication gap, I have created some helpful side-by-side scenarios that compare social situations with physical threats that would objectively inspire the same level of fear in any reasonable person.

To make it both EVEN CLEARER and EVEN MORE COMPLEX, I’ve also tacked on a threat-based, color-coded system, adapted from the Department of Homeland Security scheme that we ignore every day. This will help you understand the protective measures a social phobic like myself will often apply.

Time for the scenarios:

Fine. Not so bad. Now we begin to get wary:

Feel the heightened sense of fear?:

Raw terror:

Based on recent experience, I would place this nearly at the top of the scale:

Sometimes it's wisest just to give up:

i love this.

though i disagree on one point - all of my problems can be bulletized.

Even with my vast expertise in shopping, at times I become obsessed with non-practical purchases.

But this is not one of those times.

It began with an auto show I went to at the Convention Center this winter with Edward and Brad.

I’d never been to an auto show, but I always thought that people who went to them enjoyed big American pickup trucks, NASCAR, chewing tobacco, ketchup, and deviled ham. Often at the same time.

(Please note: Perhaps I should have thought about this more carefully, as my central beliefs include the following:

• Deviled ham is delicious on soft white bread with the crusts cut off
• It will eventually be revealed that Biblical references to “manna” are code for “ketchup”

Anyway, without the benefit of introspection, and because Brad was paying, I went in.

I was less than thrilled to discover that the entire upper floor was American cars. I may have been whining about why there weren’t any Audis when I saw it.

The Ford F-150 Raptor SVT.

It was bright orange, and I was in love. I struggled past the pack of men to sit inside.

Right then (or possibly after googling) I knew. I would need it in Tuxedo Black, and definitely in the 6.2 L version, as the 5.4 L would be unacceptably slow for my purposes.

Like any good romance, this one seems a bit star-crossed at first blush, particularly by arguments about practicality.

So ... consider this the definitive response to those who question me.

No, haters. I don’t live in a desert or even within 100 miles of an unpaved road, and no, I don’t race trucks in Baja. But whatever. I might someday.

To further my case, I offer you a sampling of uses relevant to my daily life.

There is the obvious:

The less obvious but just as critical ...

And then there’s always my favorite ...

owning a tivo has its pros and cons. on the plus side, no commercials! on the other hand, i had to hear about the kfc double down from a friend.

when i got the news, i had all the expected reactions:

i pointed out to edward last night that kfc must have tried to invent the most outrageous thing they could while still making sure it had some semblance of food. and that presented us with a challenge. so i asked him if he could come up with something EVEN worse.

at first he didn't really get the spirit of my question and started suggesting unprintable things.

"no", i interrupted - "you have to make it something that you could actually sell as food."

“okay,” he said. and thought silently for a second. we both tried to imagine something that brad would bring home from 7-11 to eat cold the next morning.

“i know!" he said. "take a chicken breast, coat it in a thick layer of mayonnaise, and wrap it in a parchment bag!”

he even named it, so i've included some theoretical advertising here:

note the intentional lack of branding. look: all i’m saying is - popeye's, i'm looking at you. and since i've gone to the trouble of making the case for it here, i expect to receive the lion's share of the profits.

... as a result of my procrastination yesterday, i would be bothering edward to post about the new, amazing fast food item i forced him to invent last night. MAYBE if i get a respite this afternoon, i'll do it, since he likes to keep his posts all learned and political and highbrow.

did you know i co-author a second super-secret blog?

i'd like to say i'm sorry, but i can't. i love the wild freedom i feel with a program created for technotards like me ... creating my own background ... writing in html ... knowing how to post pictures.

oh, bliss.

ok, so every time the subject comes up, edward rattles on to me about how advertising doesn't work. frankly and intuitively, i don't believe it. my typical counter-argument is "why would companies spend so much money on something if it didn't work?" and yes, i realize that is a totally dumb counter-argument, but what do you expect? thoughtful reasoning? this is me we're talking about here.

and really - i do have this antagonistic, skeptical streak in me, though it generally just takes the shape of willfully disagreeing with whatever someone tells me is true and then scrambling to come up with the reasons why it might not be true.

so here's my dilemma. i've worked in my chosen (though that's a rather strong word for the process by which i found my way into it) field for over four years now. i would love to write a lengthy critique of what we do, and maybe i will if i gain the courage or stop caring, but i'm way too paranoid at the moment that every word is being monitored by a little robot programmed to inhale any negative phrases that appear on my screen and spew them out - chopped up and out of context - into a report that goes to my boss's boss.

so i won't. but i guess the heart of the matter comes down to variations of ... does what we do work? does it make any difference at all, negative or otherwise? i've never seen anything remotely like proof of that, which leaves me with taking it on faith.

honestly, i spent like two hours googling it the other day (e.g., "my job + efficacy", "my job + effectiveness", "my job + waste of money", "my job + are you there god, it's me tilda") and i have to say that not much came up, other than one or two opinion pieces.

thoughts? help? does it even matter (sadly, i think it does)? and don't f**king tell me that bing would produce better results, edward.

some call me a messy person. i call those people either "edward" or "obviously delusional", depending on my mood.

that aside, i've discovered the cure for any latent clutter management issues that may or may not be lurking somewhere deep inside my genes. seriously. the panacea - like all good things - resides on television. specifically (as much as i hate myself for saying this) TLC and A&E, in the form of hoarding: buried alive and hoarders.

i kid you not. watch the cautionary tale of a woman who was buried in her kitchen for three days under two-year-old piles of dirty adult diapers or see the cleaning crew pull the fifth 2-D dessicated dead cat from beneath mounds of trash and you too will want to compulsively scrub every surface in your house until you collapse into a puddle of clorox.

i've decided that it's time for someone to start posting something on here that's relevant to my life.

unfortunately, i've come to the realization that that person probably has to be me, as i don't see edward - much less brad - posting links to adorable siberian husky puppies, ranting about wedding vendors, or shrieking about the fact that one can buy really awesome and marvelously cheap eugenia kim hats at target anytime soon.

(grah to double "that" - i'm too stupid to understand whether i truly have to use two of those).

so. that combined with the fact that work has me bending the space-time continuum to cram 50 hours of work into a two-day period and then leaving me to my own devices the rest of the time means that i MAY ... just MAY be posting more frequently.

see what posts about the new $100 bill and a little panera free wireless can do?

so i've been getting a lot of flak for not posting links to pictures of the cutest animals at mt. vernon - at least until they reach their adult weight.

well, fine then edward, here you go.

caveat being that these are not the actual ossabaw island piglets at mt. vernon.

i really really need to get on downloading my pictures tonight!!!!

than hummus that uses way too much tahini (to the point of having a soupy texture)?

how do you decide whether it's better to (a) put in the effort to prove a point (to yourself? to other people?) or (b) quit while you're (sort of) ahead because the situation is lose-lose?

i've always tended too much on the side of (a) either because i would feel like a total failure if i chose (b) - when in fact that may not actually be a failure - or because i'm not good enough at recognizing lose-lose situations ... or because i hear my mother nagging me if i try to quit. which would argue for choosing (b).

on the other hand, i think successful people are often those who are have just been determined and have persevered long enough. which would argue for (a). and i hear my mother nagging me if i try to quit.

sigh. i think one of my friends told me freshman year of college that life is not a meritocracy, and i needed to stop acting like it was.

model s! especially if they offer it in the thunder gray (and with the dark gray perforated leather seats) that they have for the roadster.

wow. that's intense.

so how are we feeling about tonight's budget-off, edward? you've played some dirty tricks this week (e.g., convincing me to buy you breakfast, subsisting solely on half-smokes), but i think i just may have a chance ...

it's a BUDGET-OFF!!!!

i am so very, very excited for next week (actually the next NINE DAYS). wow. perhaps i will actually even post here occasionally. stranger things have happened.

for now i just need to get through today relatively unscathed.

then i can brave the spider haven that is edward's car. more on that later.

i think my recent back injury comes primarily from playing with a puppy.

i can't get the links to work, of course, with the parens stuff ... but ...

though this wikipedia entry does not contain the definition favored by my high school classmates, i think this neatly describes my current state and the contributing factors.

go to here for the classic michigan definition.

particularly when the presentation of the food is so well aligned with the name.

with the horrificness of a full week of a group project and extraverted thinking.

edward informed me tonight that he had read recently (in a book he stole from me) that my thinking style is consistent with a male engineer.

also, love the pictures accompanying this article. yeah, that's me in the purple dress.

I CAN BARELY THINK. am so, so excited for this day to be over.

HUMMING THAT GODDAMNED KELLY CLARKSON SONG. f&%k. f#$k. i seriously sit in my cube all day, humming it under my breath, hoping no one hears me and thinks i'm crazy. i hum it as i'm opening the door to work. i hum it on the way to work. I CANNOT STOP. it's been this way for, i think, five days. when i'm not humming the refrain, i can HEAR IT IN MY HEAD.

i'm humming it now at 8:15 pm. i was humming it this morning at 8:15. GRAH.

also, to tot up on the list of other awesome things i did today:

• took old paper coffee cup to kitchen to refill with water and heat in the microwave for tea

• heated cup of water for 2:30 in a microwave that i did not realize appears to be powered by rocket fuel or nuclear fusion or something, and thus super-heats water in the span of 30 seconds

• attempted to remove cup from microwave and decided it was so hot i needed to wrap four paper towels around it to hold it

• walked down the hall back to my desk, thinking, 'wow, this is pretty full - it would suck if i splashed some of this on my hand'

• felt said cup slip from my hand

• watched in amazement / horror as cup flew in air, recently boiling water splashed across the entire back of my left hand and cup fell on floor, spilling water everywhere

• felt nothing special immediately and decided (with surprise) that i was fine and walked back to kitchen to throw away cup

• arrived at the kitchen and felt mild tingling in hand, like it was falling asleep

• AND SUDDENLY MASSIVE AMOUNTS OF PAIN AND BRIGHT RED HAND.

yeah. it's been this way all day. took all the advil i had and put ice on it. advil wore off. hand still bright red and painful.

THIS IS THE BEST THING I HAVE EVER SEEN.

this friday is pisco sour day. (it's also ceviche day, which as edward will note is distinctly not a soup. of course that result relies on a traditionally unreliable factor, so i'm not getting my hopes up).

regardless, i am sick at home with food poisoning, but what better way to take my nausea to new heights than to research alcoholic beverages made with raw egg whites?

as anyone who knows me knows, i am lightly obsessed with the idea of unusual things and differentiating myself. (of course, this from someone who just microwaved a veggie corn dog for lunch - though DUDE, BEST THING EVER).

so how awesome is this: a scorched-bitters pisco sour? thank god i'm seated, because my knees weaken at the thought of a flaming drink. and when you couple that with the idea that foamy top would be rendered crispy and creme-brulee-like (diacritic marks be damned)? holy mother.

anyway, stepping back to the reality that is my lack of any kitchen implements that would make the process remotely safe, i've been forced to think through more mundane options.

my ideas are limited to (in rough order of dramaticity, which i assure you is a made-up word): (a) amargo bitters - apparently a subtly different taste that i doubt anyone would notice, (b) key limes - more tart/bitter, or (c) the sour haas, which appears to be a bizarre green blend that incorporates avocado, pineapple, and mint into the mix. woot!

the tv, that is.

now we just need to find something to put all the accoutrements inside. would a wildly expensive stainless steel credenza block RF? mm.

more than the mind-numbing barrage of previews and my consumption of a single, watered-down caipirosca, i'm going to wager that this will be the worst new show on television.

after a month or so of not really dealing with the app store, i've gone on a crazy app-downloading binge on my iphone. the latest addition? a cylon detector.

what's that you say? i've full-on sunk into like the worst depths of nerdism?

oh, no. that happened when i tested it on my cat.

although completely insane, this is also awesome. and insane awesome is the best kind of awesome.

someone better pick up a certain jacket ... i'm getting a little low on drycleaning ...

i'm listening to a phone call in which someone used the phrasing "we're changing business in a quantum way".

damn straight, b*#ches.

aside from the whole mockery-of-suicide-in-poor-taste critique, what the hell was pepsi thinking?

i am very proud of myself, as i have no christmas debt!

i started saving an ing christmas present fund in january of last year and automatically contributed a set amount to it every week. i then bought all my presents with a budget in mind and have shockingly managed to stay within that budget.

it may just be the only financially intelligent thing i have ever done ...

of this website (Web site ... ha) got me the coolest pair of gloves of all time.

and for some reason they finally decided to turn the heat down at work today (from it's usual 95 degree level), so i actually could've worn them all day.

that make me happy. edward thinks he knows what they are. right now i only have two of them.

wrong

in no particular order:

• i never ride the bus anymore, and therefore have no interesting commute stories, which is where i get all my best material
• due to job requirements, i have lost my ability to communicate in anything but powerpoint slides and can no longer construct grammatically correct sentences
• i have nothing of interest to say (although that is a false premise, as that has never stopped me before)
• i rue the day when the election is over and edward once again returns his attentions to the intricacies of fast food service delivery ... which reminds me ...

am i going to vote tomorrow? and when is it ever going to become more convenient to vote? i don't really get the argument that it should require effort, but hey, i'm a lazy, lazy woman.

and why is dc refusing to send me my absentee ballot? i requested it at the same time and place as edward. and ... nothing!

my receipt of said ballot wouldn't even lead to the sort of adorable mental political gamesmanship his did!

and please let him never accuse me again of overthinking something, as the urge to vote republican would never even cross my mind. the shame! the horrible shame!

other than the rapid implosion of sarah palin, the news has been a little on the depressing side this week. however, this item very nearly makes up for it ...

i beat him in buck hunter last night!

a record of significant underperformance ...

i am highly addicted to this.

and, aw, it's so nice. it tells me that if i scored below the median, it's not that i'm stupid. i might just be tired or distracted.

fair point. i can't stop thinking about that disembodied pirate face on the next tab ...

edward has been obsessively collecting them for the last year and still does not have enough to get a 30" plush bear.

proudly returning from my first drive alone in edward's car (all the way to reston - by MYSELF! i even didn't screw up the tolls or anything). anyway, i walked onto our back patio from the stairwell. when i stepped into the patio, i heard a "crrrrrunnncch!" under my right foot. also, whatever the heckles i stepped on was big enough that i felt something through my sandal.

thoughts that went through my mind in the split second before i looked down:

• "um, really need to start picking up the leaves from all my dead plants back here."

• "wait. a leaf? that doesn't make any sense. it was too crunchy. what the hell was that? please god, let it be like an old pork rind or something. or a dorito. i don't care. just not a bug."

• "oh, f*#$, it probably was a goddamned bug. worst-case, please let it be some kind of already-dead junebug situation. gross, but not intolerable."

then i looked down.

LOOKING BACK AT ME WITH ALIEN INSECT EYES WAS A GIANT MOTHERF#*#$%KING TAN CREATURE that looked like the mutant child of a locust and cricket. i think grandpa must have been a praying mantis. GAH! GAH! HORRIBLE LONG LEGS AND HORRIFYING WINGS AND DISGUSTING SPINDLY ANTENNAE!!!!

although partially crushed, it is moving. and it is f$%#king GINORMOUS.

i flee back into the stairwell and come in the front door. edward shall have to deal with it when he gets home. HORROR! HORROR!

it's out there. but i'm too scared to look. seriously. i have never seen bugs like this anywhere in dc. ATTENTION WHOEVER IS BREEDING GIANT, GENETICALLY ENGINEERED INSECTS IN THE BACK STAIRWELL, I DO NOT APPROVE!

is what i would like to do right now ...

i nearly (due to my own errors, of course) had to stay in a horrifying hotel during my visit to the seamy underbelly of LA. basically, anyone could have climbed right over the railings of my "deck" to get into my room. and there were containers from the port being stored in the parking lot. awesome.

am now safely ensconced in manhattan beach, which appears to be the land of chain restaurants, hotels, stores, and people. there seriously looks to be some sort of consultant convention at my hotel, given the sea of blue shirts and khakis in the lobby area at night.

regardless, i'll be home on thursday to see! my! new! bed!

sadly, i have so much work to do these days that i no longer have any time to post.

i will only say that the fact that someone i know found sarah palin more compelling because he saw a photo of her with an assault rifle and a moose makes me lose all faith in humanity. or at least midwesterners, as the self-hating midwesterner that i am.

ps - brad appears to suck at motorstorm, despite the fact that i assume his days that are devoted mostly to videogames.

i realize that i had neglected to finish the tale of my neighbor, but hey - I've been busy going on vacation and patronizing godawful clubs and such.

but i'm back. i think i hadn't even gotten to the good part yet, which is where mr. neighbor strode down the hall after me one day when I went to take my trash down to the trash chute. on my way back, he stopped me and said, "did i talk to you the other day?" i said, "no" and tried to keep walking. he said, "where do you live?" i pointed vaguely down the hall and said, "there." he said, "but where exactly?" i relented and pointed to my door. he got closer and said, "you know you're slamming that door over and over? you're creating a huge issue in this apartment building. just the other day, that lady [he points to a door two doors down from mine and ACROSS THE HALL] had some pictures fall off her wall because of you. no one else is going around slamming their door in here!" i just look at him and say, "i really don't think i'm slamming my door [BECAUSE I'M NOT], but i apologize if i am" and start walking away. he gets slightly more irate and says, "oh yes you are! the other day, that door probably slammed thirty times! you're really creating a hazard in this building!" i say, "right right - sorry" and go in my apartment to avoid further bizarre interaction. i actually have no idea what he is talking about, because i'm certainly not slamming my door when i leave.

later that day as i'm in my apartment, i realize that the door across the hall from me, which leads to the stairwell, slams somewhat frequently, though i never noticed it or cared about it before.

i thought the saga had ended (although i occasionally now would sneak out my door and go into the stairwell, slamming the door behind me to be difficult). but it had not.

the day i was moving out, my parents and edward were helping me carry things down to edward's car. we were being careful to shut the door as quietly as possible, but occasionally when you are carrying things, the door shuts behind you [though NOT REALLY THAT LOUDLY]. i missed the final coup de grace, but here it is.

apparently, edward came out the door on his way down to the car and when the door shut behind him, my neighbor popped out of his door. he said, "you have GOT to stop slamming that door!" edward protested that he hadn't done that and said we were moving out and would be gone the next week anyway. the man got slightly more belligerent and said that was good, since i had been nothing but "trouble" for the past year. at that, edward said that he got mad for the second time in recent memory [apparently the backseat bitchening doesn't count] and got in the guy's face and said, "you need to back down!!!!" and mr. neighbor, though surprised and taken aback, responded, "you need to stop slamming the door!" they sparred verbally back and forth in that manner until my dad came out of the apartment and witnessed this and tried to defuse the situation. at which point the guy looked at them and said, "fuck you!" and retreated into his apartment.

i made sure to slam the door a few times after that, but never saw him again! FUN FUN.

typically i leave those to edward, but it needed to be said that michelle obama is awesome.

of course, i'm not sure that really counts as a political statement, but hey ...

no disrespect to mr. springsteen, but i pretty much hate that song. especially now, when it's been going through my head for THREE FULL DAYS. i've tried everything, but i find myself starting every morning by singing it in the shower.

and then today, i'm crossing the street and i find it LIKE ACTUALLY COMING OUT OF MY MOUTH OUT LOUD. dude, i am NOT the kind of person who talks to myself. i'm the kind of person who MAKES FUN OF other people who talk to themselves.

seriously, i've been drinking like several sugar-free red bulls every day and i kind of wonder if it's starting to eat little holes in my brain.

i had a couch in my old apartment ...

god, doesn't that opener just make you ache to hear more?

right. well, said couch died several months ago in my apartment. edward absconds all responsibility, and i believe him. a certain animal may have had a hand, but that is a little unclear. either way, it's no longer a couch that anyone would want.

• broken frame: check
• viciously clawed upholstery: check
• fur-covered cushions: check
• dark, drab color: check

the question is this - what do you do with such a couch when you move? the first obvious answer to me was "by god, i'll sell it on craigslist!"

having been roundly and firmly rejected in that endeavor, i reached the second natural conclusion (a service to which i have been introduced by law-abiding edward - previously i just threw my old s*&t on the curb for passerbys to rustle through): bulk trash.

now the issue with this is that because of my crazy doorways, in order to get said couch in my apartment, i had to hire someone to disassemble it and then reassemble it inside.

GRAH!

my plan (which rapidly became apparent to edward last night) was to put off dealing with it until the last day of my lease (today) and hope the couch fairies would take it away in the night. that's actually kind of my life-plan, right there in a nutshell. now you know. anyway, much to my dismay, yesterday, like any good mother, edward loudly insisted that i begin to plan for the removal process immediately. so ... we took over our little toolbox, which contains, like, a few screwdrivers, a hammer, pliers, and (ooh - exciting!) a mini-hacksaw to try to pull apart the couch ourselves.

fun! like being dexter!

we banged and screwed (ew, dirty people - not like that!) for several hours and managed to only get the front legs off, rip off most of the covering (so now like splinters and sharp screws and staples are ready to stick us everywhere), and pull out some of the stuffing.

the bulk of the work, like most things i do, was irrelevant or counterproductive. when i started to hacksaw the back legs off, edward stopped me (boo!)

so now the couch sits, ready for the final day. half disassembled in my old living room ... waiting ... taunting ... not at all leveled out by the hand of distance.

at least that's what my browsing history would suggest ...

as you can see, i've fully embraced edward's beloved term.

however, the question as i continue to unpack is this: why do i keep books that i've already read? it's kind of ridiculous, because i'm never going to crack them open again and they're all dusty and disgusting. i had to wash my hands like six times already today. gross!

i think i've re-read maybe two books in my entire life (patented tilda exaggeration is probably at play there, but it's close).

of course, i should probably do it more often. why?

hm. well, i have this weird disorder where i remember almost none of the details of the books i read within a month or so of completing them. it's totally bizarre, because i have an damned excellent memory in general (especially for perceived slights), i'm not a total idiot, and i also love to read.

but let's see ... an example ... i love flannery o'connor. however, i had to read a good man is hard to find like six times before i could keep the plot in my head. and it's a flipping short story.

on top of that, i routinely recommend books without having a clue what was in them. i just have a general impression in my mind that they were really, really good and i couldn't put them down. for instance, i made edward read secrets a couple of months ago, which i maintain is one of my favorite books, but when he mentioned things from it to me, i had only a vague idea what he was talking about.

whatever - i've made it this far. and i'm not as bad as edward, who appears to be keeping several books on indoor barbecuing as well as the te of piglet.

WOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!

i'm trapped inside this weekend with a horrible cold (i know - who gets a cold in the summer??!!) and thus am being more demanding than usual.

i decided what i really needed was not a rehash of the chicken soup that i had for breakfast (oh, how i love a savory breakfast), but a cold and delicious frozen yogurt. and also something novel.

there seems to be a modest trend toward frozen yogurt places that are making their yogurt taste more like actual yogurt (sour) and less like ice cream (sweet). i guess it's supposed to be a california thing, but it's not something i ever experienced when i was there. maybe because i was living with an anorexic man. who can say.

anyway, the first one i tried was the not-so-impressive tangysweet in dupont circle. i went there on an incredibly hot day with edward, brad, and ... can't remember the bizarre nickname edward gave her, so she shall remain unnamed. there was a hugely long line and i just remember everyone being hot and cranky. we all ordered different flavors, and they all tasted, well, kind of the same - just weirdly way too sour. the texture also seemed a little off - maybe too hard or something. either way, not exciting, not going there again. i wanted to like it - i really did. i always want to like new, trendy, expensive things (expensive = good, right?), but this just didn't cut it.

now on the walk home from a recent trip to hank's, i had noticed the appearance of mr. yogato - near 17th & P. despite my memory of the rudimentary cartoon yogurt mascot (noting personal, i just reflexively hate all cartoons), i decided that's what i wanted today.

O!M!G! best choice EVER! i just had the original soft with strawberries, chocolate chips, and cap'n crunch, so i don't know how good all the rest are (today they had original tangy, mojito, and mango), but this one was tast-Y. like tangysweet, they have just about every topping your heart could desire, including lots of fresh fruit (yum!), but they also have all this extra stuff that you can put on yourself on top of the counter (i added honey and jimmies). the yogurt was tasty as well and had a good kind of mild tang to it.

though i should really try other flavors before i render a final verdict, i will rashly say it was rocktacular.

also, they made edward debase himself to get 10% off (which ended up being like 10 cents). bonus!

well, moving back to california probably isn't worth it ...

about this movie

for a real estate team, feel free to get in touch.

i'm so excited about my new color line that i'm posting again just to see it!

a picture for brad.

• why does the search link on the left take me to some random-ass page?

• why can't i have a pretty, feminine color for the line under my name like brad does?

hey edward - you nudged me to start posting again - you have only yourself to blame

so. i left off where neighbor dude made little impression other than to depress the hell out of me.

that all changed one night (for those who know the story, it was the new jersey and r night). i was coming inside, completely sober, carrying a drunken friend who i had just rescued from the police. it was probably somewhere around 1 am. said friend was barely conscious and definitely outweighed me, so i was struggling.

just as i got to the front door of my building, i started to reach for my keys, but then saw someone coming out and thought he'd hold the door for us. it was mr. neighbor. i'd been living next door to him for 2 years, so i kind of thought he'd recognize me.

but no.

he walked out, shut the door behind him and stood in front of the door, blocking our entrance. he chanted at me, "no key, no entry! no key, no entry!"

despite his slightly bizarre and rude behavior, i politely thanked for his diligence in protecting the building from invasion by roaming miscreants (and wow - we did look pretty dangerous) and fished my key out.

as i unlocked the door, he stepped aside to light up a cigarette. he stared at me and my friend and said in a very disgusted and disapproving voice, "wow. he's REALLY drunk." then he smirked (sneered?) at me as i pulled my friend in the door.

so his talents appear to center around building security and stating the obvious. oh ... and leading a tireless crusade against noise pollution.

up next.

do i use whatever's left over after making the downpayment next week to buy a scooba?

i'm sorry ... questions as intriguing as these come up when edward is making me watch a completely boring "action" movie, which features the worst acting i've seen this week.

i rent in kind of a mediocre condo building and know exactly none of my neighbors by name, which is fine by me. however, one i know on sight is a dude who lives next to me. before i get into my ill-advised story, which edward will probably chide me for writing, i will provide a brief synopsis of what i know about mr. neighbor:

• despite being approximately early middle-aged, he seems to be at home during the day every day - this has been the case since i've lived in the building

• his uniform consists of a dark t-shirt with its sleeves cut off. said shirt manages to expose an unsavory expanse of oddly tanned chest and is always paired with ratty shorts

• saw him cut in front of a huge line at the starbucks near my house so that he could get a refill of coffee in a gnarly paper starbucks cup that he carries around when he's outside the apartment building

• his hair looks like it would rather be gnawing down trees to build a dam

to top it off, his social skills appear to be rudimentary at best. as opposed to mine, which are whatever the next level above rudimentary is.

dunno why i'm too stupid to link to the pictures exactly, but you can get an exact replica of your eyeballs made into working lights.

go to products --> lights.

the motto of this website should be changed from the pretentious latin tagline to "i'm not a frakking blog".

why? because it's damned referential, that's why.

what does it reference, you ask?

• edward's perpetual response to complaints that functions of said not-a-blog don't work

• those horribly tacky anya hindmarch bags that i hate almost as much as i hate all louis vuitton bags ever created, which remind me of those awful esprit sweatshirts i had in middle school that blared "ESPRIT" across the front. LV products speak to the same principles that i was operating under was when i was 13 (or brad at current age).

• a certain show loved by mega-nerds, which would also meta-reference the fact that the name of this website is uber-dorky (ps - i refuse to spell it "Web site", because although that's right, it's also just flat-out wrong)

i have decided i'm incredibly tired and need a vacation immediately.

see? i have nothing to say! proof.

that's right, craiglist f**kers! you're so predictably enraging, i don't know why you still get me worked up every time.

what happens to me when i post something for sale on craigslist?

• 4-6 people contact me insisting they're going to buy what i posted. i wait at home at the appointed time and they never show up.

• 3-5 people insist they're going to buy something, turn up, and then say, "hm ... well, um, i need to think about it..." and leave

• 1-2 try to bargain me down to an idiotic price ... "oh, so you're asking $100 ... but would you take ... FIVE????"

invariably, none of them ever calls back.

so what do i do to counter these flaky tactics? i fight fire with fire and make arrangements with multiple people each night to come look at whatever i'm selling. i do explain that i'm showing it to multiple people. i tell everyone i'll call them if it gets purchased. and what happens?

i sell something. i email or call people to tell them.

there's always one person who goes completely ape and insists that i had promised it to them and they've already started driving from fredericksburg in a car they rented just for the occasion and i'm nothing but a gigantic ball of evil. invariably, this is for an item of almost no value. the most recent incident involved a $25 CD rack. the one before that was a $10 ottoman from bed, bath & beyond that wasn't worth the money it took to make 3 phone calls to bitch me out.

i should quit now, but god, how i love their sweet, sweet cash.

that's right. at any moment plants could release a toxin that makes people commit suicide.

oh, wait. i'm sorry. i meant a toxin that blocks the primordial self-preservation instinct which is the only thing preventing us from laying down in front of a giant lawnmower. or feeding ourselves arm-first to lions.

also, it usually makes you walk backwards.

but, you ask, why would plants release such a, well, complicated toxin and not just the regular kind that would kill you outright? silly person. you cannot begin to understand the ways of plants. they are wise. they can communicate across vast distances.

and they have a plan.

i'm not really sure what it is, but i guess it involves some kind of warning about maybe global warming or overpopulation or too many H&Ms or something to parisians and americans in the northeast.

but here's the thing - all you have to do is go inside and you're safe. that's right - even rickety old farmhouses built in 1850 are airtight!

oops. guess i should have said "spoiler alert!" a little sooner.

but don't be angry. thank me. i just saved you 91 minutes of sheer hell that you would never, ever be able to get back if you had gone to see "the happening" like i had this weekend.

i may or may not have a set of friends who are demanding that i go see the sex & the city movie next weekend. most girls i know like the show, so i think i might have to do it or the horror is going to cause some kind of tear in the fabric of the universe.

honestly, though, i find almost nothing more depressing or less interesting than sex & the city, since its sole purpose seems to be to celebrate all the worst stereotypes of women.

if you know me at all, it will come as no surprise when i say that exaggeration is one of my favorite modes of communication. along those lines, there are a lot of directions i could go, but yeah ... i'm going to stick with "rip my own eyeballs out".

unfortunately, today is also for working on a project that i should have done last friday and decided not to start, because in my mind, i had FOUR WHOLE DAYS to do it.

my tendency to procrastinate is epic. i even had a dream about procrastinating last night. i think it involved me not going to class or doing any of my homework in a math class and then attempting to learn everything the day of the test.

please note: my dream is remarkably similar to my behavior freshman year in college. i once stayed up late, not studying and watching the miniseries "jfk: reckless youth" the night before a calc midterm. the error of my ways only hit home when i was staring at the test the next day, with no idea how to even begin solving the problems. so, naturally, i decided the best thing to do was to shut my eyes for a second and just ... think hard. unfortunately, when i looked back up at the clock after that "second", i realized that 45 minutes had ticked by while i slept.

of course, through the magic of partial credit and grade inflation, i passed the class! ah, the rewards for bad behavior ...

is for recovering from

• playing tennis quite badly, if i may say so myself - although it was my first game EVER, so understanding where i was supposed to be hitting the ball was a challenge

• attempting to swim in a frigid pool, which still was nowhere near the temperature of lake superior, where i used to swim regularly in may because i am pure bad*ss

• drinking a bottle of champagne in and near said pool

a cautionary tale in three haikus:

last week's stories sit

mocking attempts to find them

forever hidden

frustration mounting

my "older posts" suggestion

greeted with laughter

"you're such a user!

navigation? ha! besides

this is not a blog."

print your own graph paper!

i'll admit that i'm particular about the way things look. maybe that's why i'm surprised by the ridiculous condo developer decisions i've seen during our housing search ... but i kind of don't think so ...

some of my favorites so far:

• chopping up modern-looking loft-style condos into a rat warren of tiny rooms ... and then adding colonial finishings

• believing that you're going to get $1.2M for a third-floor walkup with mediocre appliances, a bunch of itsy-bitsy rooms, and no view

• building the unit such that there's a giant streetlight right outside the floor-to-ceiling living room window ... and bizarrely featuring a closeup of a small, unremarkable microwave in the listing photos

• designing a living room that it would be impossible to situate regular-sized furniture in ... and then putting the kitchen under the stairs

• doing a poor job of covering for recent water damage in several units

• see above on the water damage ... and also creating a "private" roof terrace surrounded on three sides by a wooden fence, with the open side directly facing - and right next to - the public roof deck - i know i love spending $900k to feel like a zoo animal!

• claiming that a platform raised up three feet from the floor of the main condo is a "loft"

• advertising "soaring 9-foot ceilings" (this one's so common, I can't really call any specific location out for it)

so without yet cracking open the bottle i procured online, i finally tasted hou hou shu!

this time at ps7 - which on a side note, is home of edward's beloved lavender gimlet and a few other tasty drinks. at $20 for a 175 mL, the price was double what i paid online, but possibly worth it, if just for the bizarre candle-holder-like glasses that it was served in.

but that's not important. what is important is that it was everything that i was hoping it would be ... and then some. i think it's safe to say it's my new favorite drink.

so what's it like?

• insanely awesome - not like anything else.

• refreshing and light - a little bit fizzy; a little bit milky; sweet, but not overly so. the taste is slightly reminiscent of horchata, which i also love, but there's also a little bit of fruit (melon? strawberry?) in there.

• in the words of our dinner companion, "i could drink this for breakfast".

• finally, lest anyone accuse me of rampant alcoholism, i will point out that hou hou shu is a mere 6% alcohol by volume.

from the annals of "i'm-trying-to-convince-myself-this-is-a-good-thing", edward and i stopped by de vinos on 18th last night to find not one but two varieties of hou hou shu (pink bottle is supposed to be slightly sweeter than blue) newly stocked!

i have something to share. i feel kind of funny about it because i automatically hate all things that smack of hippie. examples:

• patchouli
• those horrible poncho/shirt things from south america
• mandals
• not bathing

my parents were hippies, back in the day - among the first to join the peace corps, lived on an indian reservation - the whole deal. although really, they were of the beat generation, which, in my mind, is a lot more awesome than being a hippie because it involves wearing stylish attire and writing or painting incomprehensible things while clothing yourself in the metaphoric mantle of counterculture.

anyway. back to my tip. i have a friend who is incredibly frugal and environmentally responsible. she's always telling me to do crazy things like wash out plastic bags, make my own pork stock, and line-dry my clothes. yeah, whatever - i grew up without a car, eating homemade yogurt, and being deprived of television. it ain't me, babe.

however, her email yesterday said that she'd taken to washing her hair with baking soda (1 T + water as shampoo) and vinegar (1 T + water as conditioner) and it was amazing. well, i'm experimental. i decided to try it. keep in mind that my hair is naturally the texture of straw that has been left baking in the sun for several years. i use exclusively kerastase, which i consider to be the rolls-royce of haircare products.

so i cannot overexpress my surprise at finding that it actually, strangely, works - and it even feels like i used conditioner. totally weird, right? anyway, my review:

• positives: shiny, soft, manageable hair, very low cost
• negatives: somewhat messy to use, moderate vinegar smell, only used once; long-term usage might result in hair loss - who can say?

so, edward, still feeling pretty good about the whole engagement thing?

i ride the bus to work.

sure, it's convenient, cheap, good for the environment, etc., etc., ad infinitum. i guess the only downside is that the overall experience totally sucks.

hands-down, the worst is when it's raining. you realize, yes, that's everyone's bad breath and sweat fogging up the window you're leaning against. then someone sits down next to you and drips their wet umbrella all over your leg.

which is why i've spent so much time perfecting my approach to getting my own seat on the bus (or train). and i'm happy to share a few time-tested techniques.

please note: all my techniques are based on subtle, non-verbal cues. despite what you might assume about me based on general demeanor and outlook, i disapprove of rude behavior. this extends to putting your bag on the seat next to you or sitting in the aisle seat when the window seat is empty.

so that's out of the way. now ...

1. feign sleep. for whatever reason, people want to avoid bothering a sleeping passenger by sitting next to them.

2. avoid eye contact by actively looking out the window. don't know why, but this seems to be the optimal activity for driving others away. anyway, as soon as you look boarding passengers in the eye, it's like a formal invitation to sit next to you.

3. look angry/sullen. no one likes a sourpuss!

4. sit near the back. prime seats are kitty-corner or immediately behind the back door, those weird awkward seats in the very back row, and the sideways-facing seats in the back. avoid the middle and front area at all costs as well as the seat right across from the back door. people will generally take the first available seat they see, and that's going to be in the front, near the door.

keep in mind that none of these are, like, genius ideas. and they probably won't work for you - i mean, i look pretty damned intimidating.

received from a friend who works at a newspaper:

Subject: community police blotter.

A suspect struck a victim in the face with a one-liter glass bottle. The victim was hanging out with the suspect having a few drinks when his mood changed.

nice work, suspect! A for effort, but all in all, a little JV, wouldn't you say?

tilda's tip: i know it's hard to think clearly in the heat of the moment, but always try to add insult to injury. next time, consider emptying whatever you're drinking onto the victim's pants before striking him across the face with the bottle.

hey edward ... guess what i'm doing right now????

that's right - i'm WATCHING TV WHILE I'M ON MY LAPTOP.

granted, the movie (which appears to be crap so far) is on pause ... but i'll take every little victory i can.

sparkling sake.

i know i can order it online, but i'm a little lazy, so i've been trying to find it in local liquor stores.

most of the time, i get a blank stare when i ask for it. the closest i've come so far is at d'vines in columbia heights, where the guy told me that they were getting it in "soon" AND who managed to correct me on the fact that "apple delirium" is actually floris pomme.

aside from the fact that he is maybe the coolest person ever, i am actually not excited by this. why? i am already looking four steps ahead - that's why.

let me play out the worst-case scenario (i.e., The Rose Champagne Situation):

• i try said beverage and like it.

• i begin pretentiously trying to order it places so people can think to themselves, "wow, i have NO CLUE what she's talking about. what a freak. but ... SPARKLING sake ... doesn't that sound kind of awesome? like WAY better than champagne? OMG. she's so ... hip!"

• it is featured in, like, "InStyle" or "Martha Stewart Living" or whatever it is that people who live in Northern Virginia see as the bellwether of cool.

• it becomes so popular that Uno's adds a "frozen cherry blossom" made with sparkling sake to their "cocktails and freezers" menu.

• i never order it again and have to find some drink that's made with - i don't know - monkey piss in the hopes of staying differentiated.

although "visiting the westin gift shop and buying enough benadryl to drug yourself into a deep, dreamless sleep" would normally top my list, the fact that a bag of almond m&ms cost me $5 there left my wallet a little light.

instead, i have so far sampled and would recommend:

• walking around what may be the most depressingly mistitled "mixed-use development" in the U.S.

• buying a bag of peach gummi rings which turn out to be disappointingly UN-sour, despite the deceptive ingredients of citric acid, fumaric acid, sodium citrate, and tartaric acid - all of which sound pretty damned sour to me.

• exploring the "shopping district", which contains a gymboree, casual corner outlet, and a subway in the food court. i expected but did not find a dress barn woman or a jo-ann fabrics.

• returning to your room to contemplate why you insisted on waiting until 7 pm to have dinner.

ah, i love my job.

i admit i haven't taken biology in like 45 years, so maybe i learned this once ... but i always wonder the same thing about allergies that i do about being near-sighted: how could something so miserably pointless possibly be an adaptive trait?

so what's saving me is not the medication with the stupidest name on record. note: pharma company rubric - willingness to pay for a drug rises exponentially with scrabble value of its name.

after a trip to cvs today, i am again in possession best thing ever: liquid children's benadryl. that's right. 100% synthetic-fruit-bubblegum awesomeness inside these little hollow things that i think are supposed to be spoons. take two! take four! who cares - they're kiddie doses, right?!

side effects include passing out into deep REM sleep within seconds of boarding the bus home and waking up at S Street with a big smile on your face just in time to stop yourself from loudly saying something insane.

has a dream ...

this might be the best description of your old house EVER!

... featuring the best-ever use of stick figures.

Yes, I'm making an exception to my hatred of all things cartoon, though it helps that it's not animated.

The best thing I saw last week.

Oh yeah, dude - you're going to be so sorry you ever gave me posting rights!

I am making it my personal mission to systematically dismantle the horrifying psuedo-intellectualism that serves as the very framework for this site. Which I will fulfill just as soon as I can figure out how to use words with fewer syllables.