Monday, February 28, 2005
There’s no place like home, there’s no place like home….
It dribbled snow the entire time I was in Rochester, but the streets were clear and the driving just fine. But if you had asked any of the residents about the weather, they wouldn’t have even realized that there had been a bit of snow falling from the sky, a water-laden cloud must be parked over their head dumping its contents for a Rochestarian to be struck by the weather. Seriously though, when asked, residents said that they’re expecting snow on Tuesday (The cute flakes drizzling out of the sky, and icing the ground every couple of hours, didn’t count.)
The weather-necessitated, salt-laden roads, combined with the excessive canyons in every street and highway, make Rochester the perfect place to be a car dealer/mechanic. You’ll be guaranteed loads of return business. Luckily as your wheels are dipping into another portion of the earth’s crust while you’re simply trying to meet up with your friend at a local pub, you can totally rock out to an amazing radio station. 90.5, WBER, “the only station that matters”. And really they’re not just arrogant pricks, they’re damn right. (And this is coming from a former DJ.)
My family, my fam. First of all my Mom is so NOT helping with my dating prospects. She went to the bank and happened upon a grammar school classmate of mine, that was one of the rare few that actually pursued a higher education. He started quizzing her about me and then finally came out with, “So is she married?” And my lovely, darling Mom responded, “Well, she’s separated.” Um, huh? The one person that you would expect to disseminate true information, just implied that not only had I been married, but in fact, am still married and likely embroiled in some sticky, suboptimal situation. Bugger that!! I’ve never agreed to walk down the isle with ANY man. (Although my 3-yr-old keeps telling me that we’re married, and the speech bubble above my head sarcastically agrees with the truth in that statement.) But anyways, if you can’t expect that your Mom is going to exaggerate a little to make you seem like the most loveable, adorable creature floating across this earth, then who can you expect that from? At this point, I’ll just settle for the raw truth, because that would sound better than what slips out of her mouth, it seems….grumble, grumble… Maybe she was just pondering as I did, that the school mate in question had cruised though grammar school, with his forefinger deeply buried in his nose (except for when it came out to deposit his brownish-green find in his mouth.) Yow, I’m grossed out just pondering it…I must have seen that boy pick his nose hundreds of times a year, for 7 years straight.
Secondly, my family has horrible taste in restaurants. In their perfect world, they would be buffet-eatin’ daily. Having spent 2 full days in my home town, I’ve consumed food at one Chinese buffet and one buffet breakfast place. Oh, god, the grease-sins that I have committed against my insides. I’m surprised a revolt hasn’t been staged by my tummy.
And just to give you another little taste of home, the Christmas tree is still being displayed in the front enclosed porch. (Although, my Mom cutely explained that they had turned on the Christmas lights *just for me.* Whew, that had been my *major* concern; the fact that it was almost March and a Christmas tree present *at all* in the house might have escaped my notice.) Oh, and there’s only one wrecked car in the driveway, however, and to be fair, the accident that totaled it was a mere 2 weeks back.
And that there is a little sampling of my trip home. It had been avoided for the previous 4 years completely. My memory was jogged as to why, but still, quality time with my fam was worth it; I miss them already.
The weather-necessitated, salt-laden roads, combined with the excessive canyons in every street and highway, make Rochester the perfect place to be a car dealer/mechanic. You’ll be guaranteed loads of return business. Luckily as your wheels are dipping into another portion of the earth’s crust while you’re simply trying to meet up with your friend at a local pub, you can totally rock out to an amazing radio station. 90.5, WBER, “the only station that matters”. And really they’re not just arrogant pricks, they’re damn right. (And this is coming from a former DJ.)
My family, my fam. First of all my Mom is so NOT helping with my dating prospects. She went to the bank and happened upon a grammar school classmate of mine, that was one of the rare few that actually pursued a higher education. He started quizzing her about me and then finally came out with, “So is she married?” And my lovely, darling Mom responded, “Well, she’s separated.” Um, huh? The one person that you would expect to disseminate true information, just implied that not only had I been married, but in fact, am still married and likely embroiled in some sticky, suboptimal situation. Bugger that!! I’ve never agreed to walk down the isle with ANY man. (Although my 3-yr-old keeps telling me that we’re married, and the speech bubble above my head sarcastically agrees with the truth in that statement.) But anyways, if you can’t expect that your Mom is going to exaggerate a little to make you seem like the most loveable, adorable creature floating across this earth, then who can you expect that from? At this point, I’ll just settle for the raw truth, because that would sound better than what slips out of her mouth, it seems….grumble, grumble… Maybe she was just pondering as I did, that the school mate in question had cruised though grammar school, with his forefinger deeply buried in his nose (except for when it came out to deposit his brownish-green find in his mouth.) Yow, I’m grossed out just pondering it…I must have seen that boy pick his nose hundreds of times a year, for 7 years straight.
Secondly, my family has horrible taste in restaurants. In their perfect world, they would be buffet-eatin’ daily. Having spent 2 full days in my home town, I’ve consumed food at one Chinese buffet and one buffet breakfast place. Oh, god, the grease-sins that I have committed against my insides. I’m surprised a revolt hasn’t been staged by my tummy.
And just to give you another little taste of home, the Christmas tree is still being displayed in the front enclosed porch. (Although, my Mom cutely explained that they had turned on the Christmas lights *just for me.* Whew, that had been my *major* concern; the fact that it was almost March and a Christmas tree present *at all* in the house might have escaped my notice.) Oh, and there’s only one wrecked car in the driveway, however, and to be fair, the accident that totaled it was a mere 2 weeks back.
And that there is a little sampling of my trip home. It had been avoided for the previous 4 years completely. My memory was jogged as to why, but still, quality time with my fam was worth it; I miss them already.
Wednesday, February 23, 2005
I don't know *when* I'm going to die, but I do know *where*
Arrrgh! [growl of frustration]
I just returned from my walk down the block to purchase a *longer* shirt (see midriff post, yesterday). During that walk I was finally able to experimentally confirm that the most expensive county to live in, in the United States is also (drum roll, please...there's about to be some very shocking news revealed here) full of the most fucking self absorbed twits. Ok, so that's not too surprising. I would still like to present my new evidence. About a month ago, a man in an SUV making a right on red hit me and my daughter. *Lightly* hit, but I was still pretty shaken up. *Today*, a woman in an SUV came a couple of dangerous inches away from hitting me as I walked *in the pedestrian crosswalk* across the street. She started her parked vehicle and decided to pull out without, hmmm, without, I don't know, OPENING HER FUCKING EYES?! There's really no excuse! What? She needs a better view or something? She had the biggest SUV available, already! She gave me one of those pouty, "But what did I DO?" looks (which never works on other women) and when I ignored her and stomped across the street, she rolled down her window and yelled "sorry." I didn't even give her a glance. Self-involved bitch. I guess it's a good sign that I'm getting really pissed off these days at the thought of death by stupidity. And not my own stupidity, mind you.
I just returned from my walk down the block to purchase a *longer* shirt (see midriff post, yesterday). During that walk I was finally able to experimentally confirm that the most expensive county to live in, in the United States is also (drum roll, please...there's about to be some very shocking news revealed here) full of the most fucking self absorbed twits. Ok, so that's not too surprising. I would still like to present my new evidence. About a month ago, a man in an SUV making a right on red hit me and my daughter. *Lightly* hit, but I was still pretty shaken up. *Today*, a woman in an SUV came a couple of dangerous inches away from hitting me as I walked *in the pedestrian crosswalk* across the street. She started her parked vehicle and decided to pull out without, hmmm, without, I don't know, OPENING HER FUCKING EYES?! There's really no excuse! What? She needs a better view or something? She had the biggest SUV available, already! She gave me one of those pouty, "But what did I DO?" looks (which never works on other women) and when I ignored her and stomped across the street, she rolled down her window and yelled "sorry." I didn't even give her a glance. Self-involved bitch. I guess it's a good sign that I'm getting really pissed off these days at the thought of death by stupidity. And not my own stupidity, mind you.
Tuesday, February 22, 2005
Gates, Schmates

I made the trek into the city this weekend to view The Gates. Simply
put, my reaction to The Gates was "I wouldn't pay $ to see it."
Luckily, *I* didn't have to.
Seriously, I think that, in order to really appreciate The Gates, they
should have built a tower to view them from above. Certainly, as you
walked beneath each one individually, it was NOT impressive; an arial
view might have made it a little bit more worthwhile. (Although,
likely not $19 million dollars-worthwhile.)
Admittedly, the pictures aren't amazing, but then look what I had to work with.
Becky "Law-Breaker" Bumblefuck
Work was more amusing today than usual, and not just because I was extraordinarily sleep-deprived. The BAD-ASS that I am, got in trouble for an exposed midriff. Although, today was not *actually* when the infraction occurred. (I think that they've been saving up this one for a little while, like a skunked beer in the back of the fridge.) Of course, maybe I shouldn't claim that, as I am generally pretty oblivious to the state of my shirt. I can tell you that it hadn't slunk up over my eyes for example, but otherwise, it's not something I generally monitor. The funny thing is that I'm not exactly strutting my shit all over the halls, picking up the non-existent male co-workers. Rather, I sit holed up in the last office at the end of the farthest hall, plunking away at my keyboard, rarely emerging for a water break or trip to the generally nasty toilet. Maybe I entered a schizophrenic state last week and turned myself in for "yet another day of unneccessarily pale tummy in full view"; otherwise I'm kinda confused about how it was bothering anyone. I promised to "be more diligent about monitoring my shirts in the future..."
On an unrelated note, despite a covered midriff, I *must* have looked like a hobo today. Following workday close, I hoisted Noel onto my back and did the treacherous block walk. A woman expressly pulled her car over to ask if we needed a ride. I refused. I actually *like* to *walk* regularly, although I guess other people only do it in cases of hardship.
On an unrelated note, despite a covered midriff, I *must* have looked like a hobo today. Following workday close, I hoisted Noel onto my back and did the treacherous block walk. A woman expressly pulled her car over to ask if we needed a ride. I refused. I actually *like* to *walk* regularly, although I guess other people only do it in cases of hardship.
Monday, February 21, 2005
Now this is *real* science...
I, my friend, have class. I am so not white trash. . I am more than likely Democrat, and my place is neat, and there is a good chance I may never drink wine from a box.
Friday, February 18, 2005
I know I'll be itching before the end...
My blog has suffered from poison ivy dermatitis (well, at least my writing frequency has), and no *I'm sure* it's not contagious. Really you wouldn't want to read what I've been reading. The last sentence, that is still ringing in my ears, as well, read: "crusting plaque noted on the right breast." Come now, major eeeeehyew [Valley girl intonation]!
But I have gotten to delve into the wacky world of kook-medicine.
Check this out:
In Korea, in order to cure gastrointestinal upset or even just give an overall boost to your health, traditional folk medicine recommends ingesting lacquer. OK, so if that didn't just hit you over the head with YUCK!, let me spell it out for you. "Lacquer" is a substance used to coat wooden bowls (and other such objects) to give a shiny finish. If that didn't start your mouth buds watering, then let me just add that this tantalizing treat also contains the same substance that induces poison ivy rashes. Hmm, so you're thinking now *that's* an Excellant Idea. Why not just *eat* some plant juice that on average induces some nasty-itchy, flaming-red skin, complete with blisters when just a bit of it comes in contact with your skin. And if you were curious as to how this all goes down, it's with the aid of your favorite boiled animal: generally chicken, rabbit, or dog. For the strong of palate, the sap can also be mixed with raw egg white for consumption. If you're watching your weight, you can get your lacquer in other ways as well. Some also *inhale* the substance (which really just creates a new world of possibilities of pain and misery.) Props, for creativity guys...you're certainly thinking "outside the box." ("The box" being sanity, that is.)
And that's my report on bad medicine.
(And yes, these are published facts.)
But I have gotten to delve into the wacky world of kook-medicine.
Check this out:
In Korea, in order to cure gastrointestinal upset or even just give an overall boost to your health, traditional folk medicine recommends ingesting lacquer. OK, so if that didn't just hit you over the head with YUCK!, let me spell it out for you. "Lacquer" is a substance used to coat wooden bowls (and other such objects) to give a shiny finish. If that didn't start your mouth buds watering, then let me just add that this tantalizing treat also contains the same substance that induces poison ivy rashes. Hmm, so you're thinking now *that's* an Excellant Idea. Why not just *eat* some plant juice that on average induces some nasty-itchy, flaming-red skin, complete with blisters when just a bit of it comes in contact with your skin. And if you were curious as to how this all goes down, it's with the aid of your favorite boiled animal: generally chicken, rabbit, or dog. For the strong of palate, the sap can also be mixed with raw egg white for consumption. If you're watching your weight, you can get your lacquer in other ways as well. Some also *inhale* the substance (which really just creates a new world of possibilities of pain and misery.) Props, for creativity guys...you're certainly thinking "outside the box." ("The box" being sanity, that is.)
And that's my report on bad medicine.
(And yes, these are published facts.)
Thursday, February 17, 2005
Wednesday, February 16, 2005
Oh, Canada
Poor you! I heard about your recent breakup. I know it's hard not to be with your favorite love, but don't mope, they'll be others. And hopefully by next year your love will come around. In the meantime, why not have some little flings? Hookups help to bide your time...
"The NHL season has finally been cancelled after players and owners failed to reach a last-ditch agreement."
"And the Stanley Cup - the top prize in NHL - will not be awarded for the first time since 1919, when a flu epidemic forced the finals to be called off."
Rough, definitely rough.
"The NHL season has finally been cancelled after players and owners failed to reach a last-ditch agreement."
"And the Stanley Cup - the top prize in NHL - will not be awarded for the first time since 1919, when a flu epidemic forced the finals to be called off."
Rough, definitely rough.
Hearts and flowers on a flat-screen
So, in the wake of the week of internet dating disasters, I've been trying to get rid of my connections to match.com. For example, I started replying to emails with: "Sorry, but I've decided that the internet is not my scene for meeting boys. I'm the kind of girl that likes to hang with someone and discover why I adore them and then date. In the internet dating world, it seems like you date first, and then find reasons to adore the person later(if you are lucky to find someone great.)" Of course, the typical human response to this is, "Wait, come back!", as documented by this email response: "Awww, I kinda like you more after hearing all that..."
I even tried to cancel my membership and was thwarted by a long conversation with a woman who purportedly found her husband on match. She set up my account with another 14 days, free, saying, "I want to be your matchmaker!", and then proceeded to fudge my responses to questions. "You excercise alot, right?" Apparently my failure was all in the presentation. And for all those people that lie in their profiles, don't you feel like a bastard when the truth is quickly revealed by a rendezvous with the potential love-of-your-life? "Sorry, hun, I didn't know that they meant *recently* when they asked that excercise question."
A friend hearing the story was convinced that it was fate that my account was extended, while I support the idea that it was business. See how un-romantic I am?
I'd rather take up residence in the local library for the next decade, waiting for the man of my dreams to appear in the classic fiction section, or maybe in gardening or travel...
I even tried to cancel my membership and was thwarted by a long conversation with a woman who purportedly found her husband on match. She set up my account with another 14 days, free, saying, "I want to be your matchmaker!", and then proceeded to fudge my responses to questions. "You excercise alot, right?" Apparently my failure was all in the presentation. And for all those people that lie in their profiles, don't you feel like a bastard when the truth is quickly revealed by a rendezvous with the potential love-of-your-life? "Sorry, hun, I didn't know that they meant *recently* when they asked that excercise question."
A friend hearing the story was convinced that it was fate that my account was extended, while I support the idea that it was business. See how un-romantic I am?
I'd rather take up residence in the local library for the next decade, waiting for the man of my dreams to appear in the classic fiction section, or maybe in gardening or travel...
Monday, February 14, 2005
Political dogs
For my confused friends and family that like the current political environment, don't click here. (That will never get old, for me.)
Happy VD: Spend quality time with the one you adore...
Sunday, February 13, 2005
Warning
The bastards that set the temperature on hands-free faucets to the setting: "icicle" are on my shit-list.
A pidley 2% down
And the following is a pictoral of "where I been."

create your own visited country map
I have alot more to do, before I can be called, "worldly."
(This post is my official kick-in-the-butt to apply for that cool job in the Netherlands that I spied yesterday.)
create your own visited country map
I have alot more to do, before I can be called, "worldly."
(This post is my official kick-in-the-butt to apply for that cool job in the Netherlands that I spied yesterday.)
"Beeeeckyyyy....."
This morning I woke up to the sound of my name being whispered.
Only, when I was conscious, there was no one there.
Only, when I was conscious, there was no one there.
Saturday, February 12, 2005
The plan
Noel peeled back my covers at 7:41am.
She started packing, got her Pink* on, and re-iterated (as she is prone to do):
"I'm going to Chicago.
You want to come *with* me?
Bring lots of money."
I'm worried that there's about to be something illegal going down.
(*Despite most of her animals and dolls remaining nameless, her favorite dress however, has been dubbed The Pink.)
She started packing, got her Pink* on, and re-iterated (as she is prone to do):
"I'm going to Chicago.
You want to come *with* me?
Bring lots of money."
I'm worried that there's about to be something illegal going down.
(*Despite most of her animals and dolls remaining nameless, her favorite dress however, has been dubbed The Pink.)
A*solid* reason to avoid boys completely
Bad news really can break hearts
(and you're welcome for getting this news *before* you agree to any VD foolishness)
(and you're welcome for getting this news *before* you agree to any VD foolishness)
Friday, February 11, 2005
Too much information
I realized when I got home tonight that I had been insane this morning. For some reason it took 4! knives to make a peanut butter and fluff sandwich and a peanut butter and nutella sandwich.
I did manage to develop a positive attitude when discovering that the earrings that I had purchased last night never made it home. I told myself that they might have looked terrible anyways and had been on good sale, so no big loss.
However I do *not* have a good attitude about another situation. I wish that my left nostril would STOP spewing mucus! I've been patient, but now I'm done! It's been weeks!
I did manage to develop a positive attitude when discovering that the earrings that I had purchased last night never made it home. I told myself that they might have looked terrible anyways and had been on good sale, so no big loss.
However I do *not* have a good attitude about another situation. I wish that my left nostril would STOP spewing mucus! I've been patient, but now I'm done! It's been weeks!
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