Thursday, September 30, 2004

Debate Debacle


First and foremost, a very happy birthday to Julie , who will be celebrating tonight by watching the debate (then maybe getting tattooed or pierced?), like I hope most of you are. Yes, there is no better way to kick off a weekend of partying like watching presidential debates. I’m having my own debate party at my camp. I’m pretty darn excited. After those plans, the weekend will be pretty much a free for all. Wackiness will ensue.

And now it’s time again for an E-Lo History Lesson!
Ok, boys and girls. As we know, tonight there will be a very heated debate, full of hot topics, such as the war on terror, the war in Iraq, the economy, and healthcare. But what were the topics of choice in former presidential debates, you ask? Well let me tell you!

In 1858, it was the Illinois Senate Debates. Abraham Lincoln and Stephen A. Douglas, both very stern looking gentlemen, I might add, said their piece regarding slavery and the Union. There were seven debates total, each 3 hours in length. The first candidate spoke for an hour, and the second spoke for and hour and a half, taking the first half hour to respond. I bet witty banter abounded in those debates!

In 1948, Oregon was the host of the Republican Presidential Primary Debate between Thomas Dewey and Harold Stassen. This was the first and last presidential debate limited to a single issue. Can anybody guess what that issue was? Abortion? Gay marriage? Welfare Reform? No, sir! It was all about outlawing the Communist party in the U.S. Was it held in a bunker? Nope, it was on the radio! Technology is an amazing thing.

Jumping ahead to 1960, the birth of modern debates, was the first televised General Election Presidential Debate between John F. Kennedy and Richard M. Nixon. These guys paved the way to the debates you see these days. There were four presidential debates and no vice presidential debates during the 1960 general election. They talked mostly about domestic issues, like the economy. The thing that was most remembered from the first televised debate was how the candidates looked. Yes, Americans wanted their candidates to be eye candy even back then! Kennedy took the cake in the looks department. Nixon was recovering from the flu and was pale and had lost weight. After the first debate, Nixon learned to wear dark suits and make-up! Pressing issues in 1960.

Moving even further ahead to 1992’s General Election Presidential Debate between Bill Clinton, George Bush, and Ross Perot. Now who doesn’t remember this one? I was in 9th grade… And if you think the phrase "Weapons of Mass Destruction" were coined by W., buddy, you are wrong! Clinton is quoted as saying in these debates, "We need to stop this proliferation of weapons of mass destruction." How about that? But we didn’t see him starting a war over it, did we? Speaking of war, how about that old war on drugs that we don’t hear much about anymore? Here’s what Bush had to say in 92, "The use of cocaine, for example, by teenagers is dramatically down." Teenagers. Not middle aged men, though. That’s all I have to say about that. Clinton responded by saying "But I know more about this, I think, than anybody else up here because I have a brother who's a recovering drug addict." Well, at least he admitted that. Somebody else in this debate had a family member who was an addict. Any guesses who, boys and girls?

So how will the 2004 General Election Presidential Debate turn out? Will there be blood and gore? Will chairs be thrown, like in baseball? Will the crowd boo and hiss? Should they just have a death match instead? The anticipation is mounting. I hope you all watch and tell me what you think.

Yeah...I wrote this last night at 3 a.m., so sorry if it sounds a little loopy. Well, off to pack my bags for my big party weekend. Hopefully I can get some good pictures of this crazy thing they call ALF. Alien life form, indeed. No, Autumn Leaf Festival... the only time of year when Clarion's population is over 100,000... It reminds me of an episode of the Family Guy that was on a couple nights ago, when all the leafers come to town. That's pretty much what Clarion is like right now. So I'm going to go add to the out of town population.

Everybody have a good weekend! I'm gonna make like a tree and leave. Oh, and don't forget to comment on my last post. Buh-bye.

On the Milk Carton

Well, it seems that a member of blogosphere has disappeared for good. I’ve been following the comments for a few days at Kev's place and it’s getting weird over there. He hasn’t posted since August 29, and rumor has it that he’s:

1. sick of blogging so he’s writing a novel
2. run away with a stripper
3. been shipped off to Iraq
4. been killed in a car accident
5. has become a Mormon
6. has been officially requested by his employers to refrain from using their club as the inspiration for his blog.

It’s weird how little we know about the people in this world. Weirder yet that someone with such a popular blog can just drop off the face of the earth, leaving people with absolutely no clue what happened. There are well over 200 comments on his site, with no word from the man himself, unless you count all the fake Kevin comments left by assholes with nothing better to do than shake things up. (Yeah, but what am I doing?) Although the scariest comment to date is one posted by someone claiming to be Kev’s friend, who just found the site, saying that he was killed in a car accident involving a drunk driver. Of course there’s no way to verify this without any details. So it all goes back to the whole "who’s who in bloggerville" concept, which we’ve all been through before. It’s a shame in a sense, since Kev’s blog got me into this whole mess of blog community. I feel a bit of personal loss. I can only hope whoever Kevin is, he’s alive and well, and laughing at all the people still commenting on his blog and begging him to come back. I don’t think he’ll be back, but we’ll probably never know why.

I’ll post something better tomorrow before I leave, just wanted to know if anyone has any thoughts on the many identity controversies of blogland.

Monday, September 27, 2004

ALF: Autumn Leaf Freak

I’m in the process of mentally and physically preparing myself for the upcoming weekend. Yes, I know it’s only Monday, but the weekend coming up is the weekend that I look forward to every year. Technically it begins for me on Wednesday, the day my vacation begins. I start gearing up for the Autumn Leaf Festival usually somewhere in late August. As you can see here in my previous ALF post from August.

As I get a little bit older, I know things are going to be different from the years that I was in college, walking the streets of Clarion at night, drunk, of course, going from party to party, then walking home and passing out. This year, I’ll be with a bunch of my other married friends, and of course, the "not yet married" friends. It’s weird how that becomes a way to classify your single friends once you’re married. The weekend will also involve driving, from the bar, to other parties, to my camp, which is 15 minutes outside of town. That means that at least one of us will have to stay somewhat sober (and it's not going to be me!). And I’m sure everyone will have different ideas about what they want to do, so our little group will inevitably be spilt apart, which is another new thing.

The bad thing about anticipation is that if things don’t go the way you hope, you’ll be let down. Hopefully I’ll be drunk enough not to care. I always envision things to go a certain way, and when they don’t go that way, I end up disappointed. Selfish bitch that I am. I have to just learn to roll with the punches and make every situation the best it can be. I know, I’m over analyzing a weekend of partying. Holy crap. But it never fails for me that there is at least one part of the weekend where there is a little bit of tension on my part, usually because of what other people are doing to screw up my good time. But I’m just going to take a deep breath this year and relax. Because I don’t have to worry about anything. I’m not going to worry about work, I’m not going to worry about paying bills, I’m not going to worry about finding a new job, heck, I’m not even going to worry about politics (except on Thursday night, I can’t miss the debate!). I’m not going to worry about having a good time, because I know I’ll have fun.

The problem with me is that I don’t know how to relax. I’m wound tighter than Pee-Wee Hermans’ rubber band ball. Sometime I just drop my shoulders and go, "oh, that’s what’s causing my neck to hurt. Hmm, maybe I’ll try that again later." I always have to be doing something, moving and accomplishing some goal. More than likely that’s the reason I never really accomplish anything.

So the moral of the story is, this weekend I’m going to have a blast. It’s inescapable, because I’ve been looking forward to it for so long. I’m going to walk the streets of Clarion, eat greasy food, drink lots of beer, and enjoy the company of friends that I don’t see very often. Because that’s what it’s all about, man.

I hate it when my posts turn themselves into a monster, when my brain and fingers take over. Ack, I’m doing it again! Relax, E-Lo! Breathe!

Three more days of work before the debauchery officially begins!

Thursday, September 23, 2004

Math Anxiety-ridden Art Smart E-Lo


I went to a tiny little Catholic school, St. Mary's, but we didn’t have nuns as teachers. My kindergarten teacher was a nun, and our principal was a nun. The rest of them were just regular teachers. My seventh grade teacher wasn’t even Catholic. I’m sure they all had very crappy salaries, and most of them were pretty nasty. I had 5 teachers that I liked out of my 9 years.

My math anxiety started in first grade. I can pinpoint the exact moment that it happened. I came back from being sick one day to find that the previous day’s math lesson was learning to subtract 2 digit numbers. We had only done 1 digit subtraction up until then. My teacher gave me my homework and let me start on it during lunch. She didn’t explain it to me, or teach me anything about it. She just handed it to me and said, "This is due by the end of the day." After about 10 minutes of trying to figure it out by myself, I went to her and told her I didn’t understand it. She got pissed and told me to ask someone in my class, and to stay in during recess and finish it. I remember it was a beautiful day, and all my friends were outside playing in the playground. I went and sat down and started to cry. I think another girl in my class tried to help me, but she didn’t really know what she was doing either.

In second grade things got worse for me. I didn’t realize that my problem was that I couldn’t see. I had trouble following when the teacher was writing on the black board. This led to me getting behind in just about every subject. My teacher would send me into the hallway when I couldn’t get my work done. I would sit under the coat racks, hoping nobody would see me, because being sent into the hallway was such an embarrassment. Finally, my parents realized (at the end of the school year) that I needed glasses. What a relief that was. I put my glasses on for the first time and it was like a whole other world appeared in front of me. I couldn’t believe that things looked so different. I was a blind little child. Still am.

Things improved until I moved upstairs in our building. Then we had certain teachers for each subject for the next four years. This was when I ran into Mrs. Cousins, the oldest teacher in the school. She had been a teacher there when one of my mom’s friends went there. She was old, mean, and taught math. And she loved to torture me.

Mrs. Cousins lived for sending me to the blackboard in math class. She knew how terrible I was at math, so she’d ridicule me in front of my class. She made me feel like the stupidest person on earth. It got so bad with her that kids in my class started making fun of me on the bus. I remember Kristi, who thought she was so cool cause her name ended in "i" and was one of the most popular girls in my class, yelling from the back of the bus (the cool people seats) "hey, E-Lo! What’s 10 times 6?" and laughing. When I didn’t answer, she said to her popular (and older, another embarrassment) friend, "see, I told you she couldn’t do math!" Like it was the most hilarious thing ever.

Towards the end of the year in 6th grade, before all the popular kids went to the junior high, and the geeky kids like me stayed at St. Mary’s, our entire class entered in a national poster contest sponsored by Crayola. We had to draw a poster of what we wished most for. Mine was "I wish everybody would share a smile," and I drew 2 peoples heads with their faces close together and one big smile extending from one face to the other, like they were literally sharing a smile. And guess what? I won first place in a national poster contest. My name was in the paper and everything. After that, I was considered the best artist in the class, and nobody made fun of me anymore. I didn’t feel stupid. I knew there was something out there that I could do, besides read (I was always in the top reading groups). I was an artist. I could draw better than anyone in my class. Kristi couldn’t even draw a straight line. Dumb bitch.

So here I am, years later, writing a thesis on the theory of Multiple Intelligences. The theory basically says that everybody has different levels of intelligence in different areas. So the idea behind my thesis is, even if you aren’t traditionally smart, it doesn’t mean that you aren’t intelligent in other areas, like art or music. It all stems from somewhere deep within me, I guess. I’m art smart. Always have been, always will be. And I still can’t do math. I’m probably worse at it now then I was back then. But I have a Master’s degree. So ha ha to all the kids that made fun of me for not being able to do math. Nanny nanny poo poo.

Tuesday, September 21, 2004

Prohibition 2004


I started thinking today about who else is running for president this year, because I haven’t heard anything about anyone besides Bush, Kerry, and Nader. I saw a little piece on CNN the other day about Earl Dodge, the candidate for the Prohibition party. (Oh what fun that would be. I’d be drinking bootleg Coors Light.) Needless to say, I was taken a little off guard, not realizing that prohibition was still a pressing issue to some people. Having never heard of this guy, I thought, ‘hmm. Who else haven’ I heard of?’ Well, apparently a lot of people. It seems like any regular Joe can get their name on the ballot, even though some, like Earl Dodge, will only be on the ballot in their home state (his is Colorado, home of my beer that he would make illegal). So I started a little bit of research on his party and here’s what I came up with.

The Moral Issues of the Prohibition Party:
For Right to Life
Against Commercial Gambling
Against the Homosexual Agenda
Against Commercial Pornography
For the Right to Prayer and Bible Reading in the Public Schools
Against Commercial Sale of Alcohol and Other Harmful Drugs

Hmm. This makes me wonder what exactly the homosexual agenda is. On that issue alone I say even if I could vote for this guy, or if he was in John Kerry’s position in the polls, I’d rather have Bush. What? No. It’s a little scary to think about. But seriously. Gambling? Commercial pornography? Come on, really? These are pressing issues? Hey, remember organized crime? They’d have a field day with these things. It worked in the 20’s, right?

Which brings me to –woo hoo!- E-Lo’s history lesson for the day!

In case you think that Prohibition is just a story you were told as a young child to give you nightmares, I’m here to tell you; No, sir! It was real! Drinking was once as illegal as parading down the street buck naked. It’s a scary prospect, I know. Think about how fun your social life would be if you couldn’t go drinking with your friends on the weekends. Ok, well, I know mine would be less fun. But that’s because I’m an immoral alcohol consumer. Glug, glug. But I digress. The whole idea behind this wacky prohibition thing was to reduce crime, corruption, solve social problems (because people drank so much), reduce the tax burden created by prisons (people who got drunk and caused silly drunken problems), and improve health and hygiene in America. Why hygiene? I can’t tell ya. Probably because of the rapid increase of urban areas and industrialization. But maybe one of my history scholar friends can add some comments on that one. Of course, keep in mind that before Prohibition, most saloons also offered legal gambling and prostitution.

History tells us that Prohibition was a miserable failure. Sure, alcohol consumption went down at the beginning of the whole crazy scheme, but law officials really couldn’t make the government do all it could to enforce it. Plus prohibition removed a significant source of tax revenue, and increased government spending just to hire the people needed to enforce it, like customs agents and Coast Guard personnel. Corruption was rampant, everyone from major politicians to cops were taking bribes from bootleggers. Not to mention the fact that many of the drinkers switched to narcotics. Organized crime was running amok with speakeasies, gambling, and prostitution, which were all big boons for guys like Al Capone. The rates of violent crimes went up. Prisons began to be filled to the brim, which was the opposite of what they thought would happen. So, to make a long story short, Prohibition lasted from 1920 to 1933, and then government decided, ‘hey, maybe this wasn’t such a good idea after all!’ So it was repealed, and we all lived happily ever after. With beer. As Ben Franklin once said, "Beer is proof that God loves us and wants us to be happy." And who’s going to argue with Ben Franklin?

Ok, so now I will ask: WHY is there a Prohibition Party? Do they really want to go there again? Look at the facts, jack. It didn’t work. Things went downhill very quickly. Don’t you think it would happen the same way these days, only tenfold? Hello! Illegal drugs are still around. Illegal alcohol would be too. Crime is terrible. It would get way worse. I just don’t get how this is a good idea! Plus the fact that there are more pressing social issues to deal with at the moment, other than the oh so evil porn industry. Sorry, I’m generalizing. Don’t yell at me or call me a brain dead whiner, please. But their issues are pretty general. Like "balanced federal budget.’ What party doesn’t want that one? I know somebody out there has a smart-alecky answer to that… Ahh, Prohibition. The oldest third party in the United States.

This rant is officially over. Go about your business. Nothing to see here.

Friday, September 17, 2004

Freaky Mo-Fos

Somebody keeps coming to my site after searching for "only stories of grandfather fucking his 5 year old granddaughter." Who are you and why do you keep searching for this? And the ages have fluctuated from 5 to 6 to 8. Look, the only reason you're finding my site is because in the past I've used the words "grandfather," "fucking," and "granddaughter" but in separate contexts. Someone has also found my blog by searching for "gay male hitchhikers stories only." I've only ever mentioned the word "hitchhiker" once, and it wasn't in a gay context. I expect the ones who search for "squirrel poop picture," and "squirrel wrath," but seriously peeps, if you're looking for a perverse story, this isn't the place you are going to find it. Sorry to disappoint you. If you want to hear somebody bitching about the government or about their job or talking about dogs or cleaning up horse shit, then hey! You're in the right place!
Duuuuude. Seriously.

Thursday, September 16, 2004

I’m a Pepper. Are you a Pepper?


Meet Pepper. He’s 2.5 pounds, and has an eye ulcer. He’s on antibiotics and eye drops, and he now gets fed 1/3 of a cup of Science Diet three times a day. He’s staying at my house for a few days, but he hasn’t come out of his crate yet. He poked his head out to eat, and now he’s napping. Poor little guy. He just doesn’t know what’s going on yet. But he’s cute and lovable, and is a cuddler. I’m going to go see how he does on the couch.

Wednesday, September 15, 2004

Jobs and Dogs


This is a picture I took Labor Day weekend on my nature photo hike.

I had another job interview yesterday. For some crappy staffing job. Nevertheless, it pays more than what I make right now, but it’s a temp job. Only 6 months. I don’t know if I’ll get it or not. It’s so hard for me to tell. They’re hiring 17 people for the job, so it may be a good chance, but I won’t be surprised if nothing happens, because that’s the thing that usually happens.

I am terrible at interviews. I used to think I was good at them, but that’s when I actually got hired for jobs. Now I think that when I open my mouth, rambling spewy crap comes out, and my hands flail about when I talk like I’m having some sort of arm seizure. Half the time I leave the interview going, ‘why did I say that? Why didn’t I say this instead?’ I’m terrible at talking to people. Ironic, because I was a communication major. You’d think after 7 years of studying it, I’d at least be able to do it effectively. I guess I really learned more about digital video editing, graphic design, learning theory, and multimedia program authoring. Somewhere in there I missed the "How to Communicate Effectively’ or better yet, ‘How to Fucking Talk and Not Sound like an Idiot’ class. Anyone want to teach me that one?

Another little bit of news: my parents are adopting a neglected Yorkie. Somebody please explain this term to me. "Neglected Yorkie." How in the world can anybody possibly neglect a Yorkie? They’re one of the cutest, most affectionate dogs in the world. I saw this one today. He’s a male, and he is literally skin and bones. And scared of the world. He feels most comfortable when he’s hiding under the couch, or if he’s outside, under the car. But he’ll sit on the couch as long as he’s all balled up and hiding his face. It made me feel terrible. He’s so cute, but it’s so sad that somebody was enough of a jerk to let him become this way. Even if they didn’t mean to. The people that owned him are really old, and they have 7 other dogs, which makes me wonder what kind of shape those dogs are in. I don’t even want to think about it, because it breaks my dog loving heart. I plan on coaching this dog. He’s almost 2, not quite a puppy anymore, so I’m trying to come up with a plan of action to get him to start trusting people. It’s going to be a tough road with this poor little guy. He’s coming to stay at my house tomorrow, so hopefully I can get some pictures up of him. He’s fuzzy and adorable.

Saturday, September 11, 2004

E-Lo Fiasco


This post is dedicated to Vader, the beautiful punk rock mama that she is.

The most punk rock moment of my life was seeing Wesley Willis at CBGB sometime around New Year 2000. Number one, it was at CBGB, a place that a small town girl like me wouldn’t have much opportunity to get to go to. Second, it was Wesley fucking Willis. Now, if you’ve never heard of Wesley Willis or listened to his music, you might be a bit confused if you just randomly heard one of his songs. I’m sure it would be like nothing you’ve ever heard before. His music has been described as "simultaneously disturbing, hilarious, blunt, and intoxicating, " and his inspiration was cultural phenomenons as simple as going to see a band (Blues Traveler, Kurt Cobain, etc.) or eating at McDonalds (Rock and Roll McDonalds). My personal favorite: I'm Sorry That I Got Fat (I Will Slim Down). I’ve listened to his music and some of his songs, especially the ones that were about his battle with schizophrenia, are so poignant that they’ve actually brought tears to my eyes. The thing that makes his music hilarious is that all of his songs are basically to the same tune, and it sounds as if he’s just having a conversation until he starts singing the chorus, which is always the same line over and over. But that’s what makes it unmistakably Wesley Willis. His songs always end with him saying "Rock over London, rock on Chicago," and he always included a commercial catch phrase, like "Orkin. One call, destroy them all," or "Discover Card, it pays to discover." And often something like, "Whoop the llamas ass," will be thrown in there somewhere.

I remember walking into CBGB and being in awe. Just looking around the place and knowing the history, the bands that had played there, the crazy punk rock shit that had occurred there. The thing is, the place is a shithole. It’s dirty, disgusting, full of graffiti, old tattered posters, torn barstools, dusty floors. A punk rock sanctuary. I was in awe. The bathroom there is a whole other story. I would have rather peed outside on the street, which is probably commonplace in that part of the city anyway. Then we saw him, standing right at the entrance. The man himself, with a little table, selling his CDs. Of course we had to take the opportunity to meet the legend. I get star struck easily, and this was no exception. Wesley Willis stood 6'5" tall and weighed somewhere around 300 plus pounds. Rather large and seemingly intimidating, until you met him. His personal way of greeting people was with a head butt, evidence of years of head butting people was illustrated on his forehead by a large circular bruise. He repeatedly heat butted two of my friends, and after each head butt, he’d say "Say rock," and they’d squeak, "Rock!" Then he’d growl,"Now say rrrrollll." My friend came down with a case of pink eye a few days later and swears up and down that she got it from head butting Wesley Willis. We bought two of his CD's, which he autographed for us. I only wished that I would have had a camera. Anyway, aside from some German assholes screaming "You suck!" at the table next to us, the show was fantastic. It was probably one of the highlights of my very sheltered small town life. It was just Wesley and his keyboard, which was probably comparable to seeing him at the beginning of his career, playing on the street. We were so excited to brag when we got home about meeting Wesley Willis.

Wesley died August 21, 2003 of Chronic Myelogenous Leukemia. He began his career singing and playing his keyboard on the streets of Chicago, and soon had a cult following. He was the frontman of the Wesley Willis Fiasco. In 1989, he was diagnosed as schizophrenic; and often explained that song writing and performing helped to keep the voices in his head at bay. In his short life, he recorded over 50 albums. In 1995 Jello Biafra, who claims to be his number one fan, signed him to his label, Alternative Tentacles, and released his Greatest Hits Volume I.

Rock over London, rock on Chicago. Wesley Willis, you really whooped the squirrel’s ass.

Thursday, September 09, 2004

A Horse's Tale


I spent my day off today volunteering for the United Way with people I work with. We went to a residential school for kids with behavioral problems. The place was huge, a big campus sprawled over more than 300 acres. We didn’t get to work with the kids though. In fact, we had to stay away from them, which was fine with me because I’m not very good with kids.

What I did do was clean out horse stalls.

This was a new E-Lo experience. I’ve never held a pitchfork in my hands, or shoveled horse shit and piss into a giant bucket. I’ve never even seen a manure spreader, which is what we dumped all of the shit/piss mixture into. I’d compare it to cleaning out a giant kitty litter box. The stalls had sawdust and hay spread through them, so you just scoop, sift, and dump. And just like cat piss, horse piss has an amazing aroma. At one point, I scraped up a big wet pile of sawdust, which unearthed the most amazing scent. I could actually taste it. It was like ammonia times ten, a sweet and sour redolence. Not something you’d bottle up and wear though. My nose, eyes, and throat burned from it.

At first I was freaked out about the whole experience, because our bucket (which was like one of those big plastic ice buckets that you would put a keg in) was sitting in the mess of horse feces and urine. Then we had to pick it up and dump it into the manure spreader, which involved grabbing the bottom of it. No gloves were provided for prissy little bitches like me. So I had poop on my hands. Eventually, I had poop all over me. And I borrowed some strange cowboy boots to keep my white sneakers from turning a lovely shade of horse poo brown. That was also gross. Like wearing rented bowling shoes, only ten times worse because they were not nearly as clean. Yes, I bowling shoes are clean compared to what I had on my feet. I was happy to keep my own shoes out of the crap though. Also freaky was when I was cleaning out a mare’s stall, and the pee was red. I was partnered up with a lady from work that has four horses of her own, and she informed me that the mare was probably "in season" or "coming fresh," horse-speak for being in heat. So I actually learned quite a bit about horses and horse maintenance that I never knew or cared to know. She told me that she cleans out her horse stalls three times a day, which I couldn’t imagine. It seems like so much work. She cleans, or "picks" (the proper horse person word) her horse stalls in the morning before work, in the afternoon when she gets home, and before she goes to bed at night. My back was aching before we were even done cleaning the first stall, and she’s old enough to be my grandma. Amazing.

Finally, I got into the shit cleaning groove. When we were done with that, we got to spread new sawdust in the stalls. Then we had a free lunch, which was a bonus. Free food is the way to my heart. I did have a good time, and I kind of wish that I could have spent more time there to see what all they do. They use the horses as animal therapy, teaching the kids to ride and getting them to open up using different exercises. Like, if a kid won’t talk to their therapist, they tell them, ok, ride one lap around the track, and then tell me one thing. Pretty cool, in my opinion. I like the idea of animal therapy. But I like animals, so maybe that’s just me.

I had the choice of cleaning windows, working in the kitchen, or cleaning horse poop. I chose horse poop, and I’m glad. I’m a better person today than I was yesterday.

Tuesday, September 07, 2004

Tiddily Tidbits


Here are some little tidbits of info for the day:

Ken Jennings strikes again. Is anyone as obsessed with this guy as my friends are? In case you aren’t, Mr. Jennings has won Jeopardy 39 times in a row. So far he’s won $1,331,661. He must be the smartest man alive with the fastest trigger finger ever. I personally have never seen him. But I think I’ll make it a point to watch Jeopardy tonight. Maybe if I watch it I’ll get to see him lose. I have that effect on the Steelers.

"Fahrenheit 9/11" will be released on DVD and VHS on October 5. Good news for me, since I have yet to see it. But I’ve heard good things… and then I can actually talk about it. I don’t see movies until they are released on video. I’d like to, but I just don’t. Anyway, Michael Moore says that he’s decided not to submit the film for consideration for Best Documentary Oscar (Academy rules forbid airing a documentary on TV within nine months of its theatrical release, but the same rules don’t apply for fiction films…) in the hopes that he can get it on TV before the election. But that is if the distributors allow it, which Moore says they probably won’t. But there is going to be 100 minutes of extras on the DVD, which is awesome. Bonus materials kick ass on any DVD. Because I’m a movie nerd. Maybe that’s why I don’t see them in the theater. Because I need to watch bonus materials directly after viewing.

The "Friends" spin-off "Joey" starts this Thursday, in case any of you "Friends" fans didn’t know. I’m torn. I think it’s going to be cheesy and weird, but I have to watch. Drea de Matteo is in it, and I love her. Adriana was my favorite character on the Sopranos. But I don’t know if I can watch her and not think about her having IBS and getting shot in the woods. Damn my inability to differentiate fiction from reality.

And finally, my new favorite Bushism: "Too many good docs are getting out of the business. Too many OB-GYNs aren't able to practice their love with women all across this country." —George W. Bush, Poplar Bluff, Mo., Sept. 6, 2004
I heard this on my lunch break today and almost peed myself laughing. All I kept picturing in my head was my female OB-GYN. She does a great job of loving my vagina.
Of all the words that you could have used! Why love? Why? Silly wabbit.

Friday, September 03, 2004

Into the Woods


I had a fantastic Friday at work. Can you believe it? I got to attend a training workshop on how to correct the baddies in the workplace. It was fun, plus free pizza was a bonus. Look at me, not whining about my job! Yay!

I'm off for a non-laboring Labor day weekend of tree hugging, river dancing (not literally), drinking around the fire, and sleeping in a tent. Yes, I'm actually going to sleep in a tent this weekend. So you boys and girls fight nice out there. I know there's a lot to debate about after this week, but don't hurt each other. I don't want to come back and find anybody with missing limbs or hurt feelings.

See everybody Monday or Tuesday.

Thursday, September 02, 2004

Poor Little Me


I done pissed someone off with yesterday’s post. Hey, ya’ll (sorry, my inner southerner just came out), I welcome anyone with differing political views to say their piece here. I just ask that you do so respectfully, without slamming me or my friends that comment here. And if you’re going to do so, at least leave your homepage or email address so that I can respond directly. Ah, yes, the great thing about being an American is that we are allowed to have different opinions on just about everything. Without that right, life would be endlessly routine and boring, and there would be no room for debate. In a perfect world, we would all respect each other’s point of view, but, alas, we are far from perfect. I know I am, anyway. And I don’t think my negativity about the state of the nation’s economy constitutes me being a whiner. I certainly don’t like being generalized, and I’m sure nobody else does either. Nothing in this world is black and white, especially when it comes to individual people. There are many complexities that make me who I am. If you don’t know them, I am quite happy to share. This is the point of this little blog thing I’m doing. It’s not the story of my life or anything, just little day to day thoughts and comments.
And on that note, I like to make everyone laugh.
So here are some things that I didn’t say:

"President Bush announced he has a five-point strategy for getting out of Iraq. Points six through 10 will be handled by the Kerry administration." —David Letterman

"The President and Mrs. Bush were on 'Larry King' last night and the president said, 'America is absolutely better off today than it was 4 years ago.' Then he said, 'Did I say America? I meant Chevron.'" —Bill Maher

"President Bush says in the last month he has created 300,000 new jobs. Yeah, they're called Kerry campaign workers." —Craig Kilborn

"Is it me or is Bush going everywhere Kerry goes? So far in the past week, President Bush has followed John Kerry to Davenport, Iowa; New Mexico; Las Vegas; Los Angeles; and he follows him to Portland, Oregon. The only place he never followed John Kerry was Vietnam." —Jay Leno

"President Bush is going to establish elections there in Iraq. He's going to rebuild the infrastructure. He's going to create jobs. He said if it works there, he'll try it here." —David Letterman

"We make jokes about it but the truth is this presidential election really offers us a choice of two well-informed, opposing positions on every issue. OK, they both belong to John Kerry, but they're still there." —Jay Leno

"John Kerry announced a fool-proof plan to wipe out the $500 billion deficit. John Kerry has a plan, he's going to put it on his wife's Gold Card." —Craig Kilborn

"Senator John Kerry changed his mind and now supports the ban on gay marriages. I'm telling you this guy has more positions than Paris Hilton." —David Letterman

"Please explain to me why John Kerry sounds more dickish telling the truth than Bush sounds when he's lying. How is that possible?" —Jon Stewart

"In his speech last night, John Kerry said this was the beginning of the end of the Bush administration. I agree. Sure, it may take another five years, but this is it." —Jay Leno


Everybody happy now? Good.

Wednesday, September 01, 2004

RNC One Liners


This is my favorite picture from NYC (hey Julie!), home of the wonderful RNC! This is St. Patrick’s Cathedral, photo circa 1997, the first time I was ever in New York, snapping photos like, well, a tourist.

My favorite one liners (they’re not really just one liners, more like big babbling blurbs, but hey, just go with the flow here people!) from the Republican National Convention:

"It was between war and a graver threat. Don't let anyone tell you otherwise. Not our critics abroad. Not our political opponents. And certainly not a disingenuous film maker who would have us believe that Saddam's Iraq was an oasis of peace when in fact it was a place of indescribable cruelty, torture chambers, mass graves and prisons that destroyed the lives of the small children held inside their walls."

-Said by John McCain, who later admitted to Chris Matthews that the only clip he saw of Fahrenheit 9/11 was of the scene where Moore shows Iraq a few days before the war started, a scene that portrayed peaceful moments in the everyday lives of Iraqi citizens days before we started killing their innocent civilians.

"The president announced the Bush Doctrine when he said: "Our war on terror begins with al-Qaida, but it does not end there. It will not end until every terrorist group of global reach has been found, stopped and defeated. 'Either you are with us or you are with the terrorists.' And since September 11th President Bush has remained rock solid."

-From Rudy Guliani’s stand-up performance. However, Bush said just a few days ago that the war on terror was "a war we cannot win." If that’s not rock solid I don’t know what is.

And my personal favorite so far: "To those critics who are so pessimistic about our economy, I say: Don't be economic girlie men!"

-From Arnold Schwarzenegger’s beautiful and moving speech that also included some favorite lines from his wonderful movies. I loved him in Last Action Hero. Hey Arnold, I’m trying hard not to be an economic girlie man, but I’ve been out of school for over a year with a Master’s degree and I work in a department store! Sorry about being such a pessimist. I’ll just shut up and take my 8 bucks an hour and thank God I’m an American.

I can't wait to hear what Dick has to say.

Ladies and Gentlemen: Thank you, and God Bless America!