according to plan, there will be a hitch

one of my best friends-- known her since fifth grade-- is getting married on saturday. and while my feelings are nothing like those of julia roberts in 'my best friend's wedding,' i have called upon H to help me do my best to troubleshoot.

my plan is for us to get out all the drama karma BEFORE the nuptials (just as a goodluck failsafe):

*Thursday, all day: try to stock up on sleep and do all the stuff i should have done before like haircut, eyebrows and pedicure
*Friday, 4 p.m.: attend rehearsal, dinner
*Friday, after festivities: drive to old-school 1960's hotel, the only one a person can get at reasonable equidistance from airport, bride's house and church for less than $360 a night (so much for priceline[dot]com), check in, try to nap
*Saturday, 1 a.m.: pick up H from the airport
*Saturday, 6 a.m.: get going to bride's house
*Saturday, 10:30-ish a.m.: get picked up by H to go to the church

i was, in a shocking development, running around like a chicken trying to find a decent place to stay (five hours is way too short and way too late to impose), that i failed to realize that the the hotel is actually on the outer edge of a cutesy, trendy neighborhood, a place that most people might qualify as 'sketchy.' for some reason i missed the tipoff of the bullet-proof glass/bankteller slot between me and the guy taking my reservation, as well as the iron FENCE going all around the premises. granted, that was at 1 p.m. before work and there were little kids riding their bikes. i have been reassured by people who live near there that it should be ok, but still, i'll have my pepper spray.

i'm starting to rethink that whole take a nap part, though. i'd rather be tired and have all my limbs than in a permanent state of rest.

so in any case, you may not hear from me for some time, as we will be crossing state lines to attend a wedding in a castle. hopefully i will not botch the 2.5-minute speech i'm supposed to give (and haven't yet been able to write).

but if i'm mugged and dismembered, that'd be a damn shame, because as Ale has said, the bridesmaid dress is really cute.

yeah, and Ross made up 'Got Milk?'

"where are you?"

"i'm at the grocery store, getting some things for the weekend. oh, good thing you reminded me; i'll need a razor."

"i ate way too much at lunch. i feel kind of sick... wait a second, what did i just say to remind you of razors?"

"you didn't, i just passed by them."

"oh. i'm so boooored."

"dude, why don't you come by the blog anymore? what gives?"

"you never post anymore."

"uh, i've posted like three times in the last two days. way to keep up."

"..."

"oh, i have to get travel shampoo, too; ran out last time i was in cali."

"..."

"crap, i can't remember if i have travel-sized lotion. this is not good. my horoscope says i'm going to be in a spending mood, and here i'm putting everything in my basket... uh, hello?"

"uh, excayUSE me, but this 'optimism' post? because I so thought that up YEARS AGO, missy!"

"i don't think so, pal. i CLEARLY REMEMBER coming to that conclusion on my own. i'll give it to you that we discussed it in high school, but i--"

"i. don't. THINK. so. I SO MADE THAT UP!"

"whatever, you didn't. and even if you did, you weren't the first, buddyboy."

"and this is the SECOND TIME you've mentioned it on here!"

"awfully astute for someone who NEVER LOOKS AT THE THING."

"whatever. anyway, i'll call you later."

"sounds good. e-mail me, i'll be in the dungeon."

"okay. have fun at work."

"later."

mssd up splng: th nw genratn

the motorola pr department is at it again:

Motorola set to launch two new mobile phones, siblings to the Razr: Krzr and Rizr.

i don't even know where to begin on pronouncing those.

***UPDATE****

NOW motorola is going to have the Scpl, slimmer than the Razr. is that supposed to be pronounced "scalpel"? wtf, motorola, you're contributing to the spelling delinquency of teens EVERYWHERE.

it's hard out here for a

i'd love to say i'm an optimist, but i'm not. at least to the public, anyway.

what makes it tricky is that people like me actually are optimists deep down inside -- they convince themselves that assuming the worst might "un-jinx" things. besides, there's a tiny comfort in at the very least being right if it doesn't work out. and if it does, well that's the best way to be wrong.

unfortunately that method can backfire. and it ends up being so much more of a letdown than just being a straightup optimist. because straightup optimists don't take too long to see the silver lining.

always reliable

"i just got myself a sandwich at jimmy johns."

"what'd you get?"

"number four, Turkey Tom. the usual, except sometimes i'm in the mood for sprouts and sometimes not. today i said what the heck, yes to the sprouts."

"that's cool."

"but you know, i have to say, the service i got at this place was IMPECCABLE. and you know i don't throw around service-industry compliments lightly."

"i do. what was so great? they were fast?"

"not just fast, but it was like this girl was multitasking tripletime. she was making someone else's sandwich, got my order, got it right, at the same time took two other people's orders, made all the sandwiches correctly and i barely had time to get my drink and it was ready. then she even apologized for the wait. and she was nice too. wow, you NEVER see that kind of thing anymore. i was trying to get her name without being too obvious. because i'm sure no one ever compliments food-service workers when they should be."

"wow, she must have been something."

"yes. i was very impressed. especially because there's usually like five people back there and there were only two. if every restaurant had one worker like that..."

"probably make a difference, eh?"

"yeah... but you know what?"

"what's that?"

"she was probably on speed or something."

"now THERE'S my girl. all this while i had been wondering where my little pessimist had gone."

surgery update

last may my brother had his seventh open-heart surgery to correct a blood-flow issue that had been putting too much stress on his liver. he also had a pacemaker implanted in his abdomen. since then, he had only been using the pacemaker to help him pump blood 13% of the time.

the kid is not a beefy guy, so in the last few months it became quite obvious that the pacemaker was no longer hiding under his ribs but poking out in what i can only describe as if someone was poorly hiding a pack of cigarettes under a shirt. it was like when people get a piercing and the skin gradually grows in such a way that it pushes the piercing farther and farther out until there is no hole anymore and the thing falls off. there were also two gumball-sized bumps on top of the bulge.

turns out the gumballs were pockets of fluid, which was building up all around the device. at yesterday's procedure they were drained for their contents to be tested. they sent the stuff to the lab, and within 48 hours we'll know if it was harmless and he will only have to worry about the leg surgery in the coming weeks, or if it has become infected (with the possibly of infecting the pacemaker and the blood that runs through it). if it is the latter, the whole matter may have to be revisited with a major procedure, which would probably get in the way of him obtaining his college degree anytime soon.

so, while he's doing well and thoroughly entertained me with his post-surgical/drug-induced antics, right now we're just waiting to see what happens.

thank you all for your good vibes and comforting words. i believe that positive energy of any kind can work wonders. and i have a snarky ps2-addicted 23-year-old in my house to prove it.

***UPDATE*****
thank you all for your well wishes; the results came back negative. now we just have to worry about fixing the gusher on his leg and he'll be set to wreak havoc in the Southern U.S. come the end of August.

you know what pisses me off? III

when the heat index is 115 degrees outside, so you decide to wear the lightest-weight dress you own, but forget that you live in 'the windy city.' then you have to spend the entire evening waddling around holding down your skirt, and nasty 12-year-olds in wife-beater shirts honk at you anyway.

he knows just how to handle it

on friday i managed to wrangle my way in on my brother's doctor appointment "with the three-headed monster": his cardiologist, his longtime surgeon and the pacemaker specialist. he absolutely didn't want my mother to go, but i convinced him that he might want to reconsider facing off against those people without some kind of moral support.

yeah, so as soon as we got to the waiting room and partook in the usual pleasantries with the nurses and staff, they called him in. and he told me to park my ass in the waiting room.

so i had trekked all the way to the faraway hospital just to enjoy the likes of 'phil of the future,' 'timon and pumbaa' and seven THOUSAND commercials for the new disney channel movie about some girl whose diary gets her in trouble, in the children's waiting room. sorry Ian McEwan, your flowery, turn-of-the-century turn of phrase doesn't stand a chance with that kind of nonstop pop going on about six feet away. (those cheetah girls have got some moves.) it's a shame we had to go just as 'that's so raven' was starting; i've heard good things about that one.

however, the best entertainment during those three hours was the nonstop parade of little kids. there were chubby ones, hyper ones, sleepy ones, drooly ones. bored big brothers, snotty sissies and, of course, the wanderers. i began to realize how comfortable i have become in those waiting room situations. i grew up frequenting those joints. and i started to see a little bit of me and my brother in each of those kids; you can tell the ones who've been around that block a couple times already. they wait patiently through the paperwork. they'll share turns at the little ship-steering wheel mounted on the wall or bust out their coloring books and crayons. and you can always pick out the patients by their resigned lack of activity and abnormal attachment to a parent. everybody knows the score. they know that resistance just makes the whole thing harder for all.

it's crazy that something like a visit to a cardiac surgeon could become routine, but i think a lot of it has to do with my brother and his attitude toward life. basically, he takes shit as it comes and makes the most of it. he doesn't waste time secondguessing, feeling too guilty or wondering what could have been, because he's going to live his life, dammit, and no one is going to make him do anything he doesn't want to do. i sincerely believe that spirit is what has kept him kicking so long. and i hate to admit it, but if roles were reversed, i probably would have given up and succumbed in round one.

when he came out of the consult room, i carried the white box with the telephone hookup for his pacemaker. with it, he can put the little bracelets on and plug into any phone, anywhere, and they can get a reading on how the thing is working for him. he nonchalantly says that he told them he didn't have time for a chest x-ray, he'd get it later. and most likely there will be two surgeries before he goes back to school in august; one to repair the vessels in his leg and reroute them to bigger ones that can handle the load, and the other to adjust the pacemaker placement, which his body has decided looks better protruding out from his chest in a big bump.

at that news, i started showing the beginning quivers of freaking out. he cut me off at the pass very matter-of-factly with a 'let's get out of here, i'm hungry,' then he took me out to a fabulous sushi lunch.

i'm not sure what the age is when the lines between big sibling vs. little sibling get blurry, but i'm pretty sure we're past it.

no good. terrible.very bad.

monday was such a good day. first off, i didn't have to work. i slept in and watched three movies (even though you were right gg, 'Saturday Night Fever' was depressing). most importantly, i made a cameo at my old dance class with cc -- i hadn't been able to attend in almost a year -- and you know it was that great and i am that out of shape because two days later i'm still hobbling around like someone who's lived for a century.

when i got home, i was so wired from the adrenaline of floorwork that i couldn't sleep until 7:30 in the morning. maybe if i had known then that it was going to be the beginning of what alexander could describe in a few choice adjectives, i wouldn't have gone to sleep at all.

at about 9 a.m. tuesday, my brother (who is home on college break but taking summer classes) was screaming for me to help him. a vein near his left shin had burst and he'd soaked through an entire towel before he could wrangle a bandage on there tight enough to hold it back. of course i was in so deep an exhaustion that i didn't even hear him. finally he limped into my room to tell me to make sure the blood and bleach were completely washed out of the bathtub and went to class.

then, on my way to work, i tuned into newsradio to hear that some sort of terrorist group bombed seven train stops in Mumbai at rush hour. two of which are the stops for some of my relatives. i called my dad, who was trying to get a hold of his people but because there was such chaos he couldn't get through.

after i got to work, i tried calling my mother to ask about the family, and got no answer. however, she called me shortly thereafter from the emergency room, where she had to rush my brother after she got home from work. it seems when she went to check his bandage, the blood started gushing out -- this is actually what she said, as she showed me her pinkie finger to demonstrate the thickness of the stream-- "like a watergun" and she was unable to stop it. my mother is a nurse.

then my father calls to say that his sister had gotten off at the platform in Bandra on the train directly before the one that blew up. if she had been running late, she would have been in the compartment with the bomb. at that point, the death toll was at 160 people and is now at more than 200.

someone comes in the office to say that right here in Chicago, the Blue Line 'L' train derailed, causing a fire and the subway to fill with smoke. after the news from the motherland, people were freaking out. everyone was safe, but shaken up. some 150 taken to hospitals for smoke inhalation. things got way behind at work because everyone was standing around the tv to find out what happened.

on my way home, i had made it about 12 miles onto the highway when the steering wheel and the rest of the vehicle began to shake violently, accompanied by a rubbery, flapping noise that i had never heard before. it became hard to steer, but i made it to the shoulder where i found i had blown a tire. no big deal; i knew how to change a flat even though i had never had to actually do it before. when i got the car years ago, my father walked me through the process. no sweat. however, double semi tractor trailers rattling by at 85 mph make it tricky to concentrate. and because i could barely reach over to fasten the seatbelt without 14 sore muscles whining in protest, one can only imagine how fun it was to empty the trunk and remove the spare tire.

it was 12:30 a.m. there weren't any streetlights where i had stopped. to keep pretenses light, i called H with a preview of the ridiculous story i'd tell at dinner parties of my pathetic attempts to change a flat when i could barely tie my shoes. for good measure i threw in my location and key phone numbers in case the line went dead and my body was found dismembered and buried in a shallow grave in some nameless forest preserve in the suburbs. but i was more scared of getting clipped by a drunk driver or sleepy trucker.

it was all good; i was already practicing how i'd nonchalantly announce to my father, who despite trying to teach me these things doesn't really believe i can do them (secretly hopes i can't) without his assistance. after several minutes i realized the jack was not coming out of its cute little compartment. i didn't have a secret decoder ring, magic key or password. nothing was working. H was trying to explain that there was something to twist, pull, unfasten or unlock, but it just wasn't happening. mostly because i was blocking what little trunk light i had by holding up the carpeting to get to the compartment. it was looking like i'd have to get dear old daddy out of bed after all.

but my pops could sleep. some kindhearted soul must have seen my pathetic ass struggling and didn't want to read about some girl chopped to bits and buried in a forest preserve because they called the highway help guy. he pulled up, changed the flat and said with a nod, 'just be safe' when i asked him if i owed him anything. i also asked him what the secret was to removing my own car jack and he just laughed. i said 'they're supposed to be easy to use.' and he said, 'yeah, if you manage to get them out.'

when i finally got home, my brother was up to make sure i was ok, with his crutches leaning against the couch. he's going to have to have surgery on the leg. he convinced me to watch 'The Longest Yard,' which i didn't find to be terribly entertaining. i was especially disappointed in Chris Rock.

but maybe i was just in a bad mood.

something blue

when you set out to paint a picture
there's an image in your head
you choose those closest to share
their talent and creativity
and add a mark to the masterpiece

after you've handed out the brushes
and loose guidelines
they interpret it their own way
they don't exert the effort you'd hoped
but instead
they surprise you
but not in a good way
they attempt to please you
and end up all wrong
they let you down
more than you'd ever expected
and suddenly your work isn't what you wanted
at all

it's become tainted
foreign, somehow
you do your best to salvage
corral their ideas
there once was a lot of love to draw from
but all that's left is disappointment

you wonder what you were thinking
back when the canvas was blank
you want to give up
quit, start again without their ruin
but things have gone too far
and you only get one shot

gripping expectations so tight
you can't see what's in your own hands
or what's being choked in the process

all you can do now is shake your head
say 'just wait till you go through this'
with a knowing smile
a gentle curse for things to come
just veil your disappointment
dance as the paint dries
but remember how things ran amok
and keep that in your pocket for the future

because things will never be the same

everyone's starry-eyed on the fourth

'whatcha doing?'

'dungeon. you?'

'driving home from my parents'. we had a little barbeque.'

'sounds great.'

'yeah, i had some corn on the cob for you. delicious.'

'mmmm. one of my favorites.'

'geez, there is so much traffic out here tonight.'

'well, it's probably all the people straggling home after fireworks and festivities.'

'yeah.'

'but it's pretty early, no?'

'this is worse than any rushhour traffic i've ever been in. God, just drive, people, drive!'

'what do you think the holdup is?'

'maybe they've got a checkpoint set up or something.'

'well, i guess it'd be a good night to catch drunk drivers and seatbelt offenders.'

'definitely...whoa.'

'what happened?'

'nah, i'm just looking over to my left and i see some ferris wheels, all lit up.'

'that's cool.'

'yeah, but i think i just figured out the reason we're all locked up here. everyone is tripling traffic time JUST TO CHECK OUT A FREAKING FERRIS WHEEL.'

'figures. you past it yet?'

'yep. flyin' by now. i'll be home in 2 minutes.'

too bad they don't sell time in a bottle

several people very dear to me are going through some bad emotional relationship crap, all in the span of about a week. i can't explain it. but i have been there and know how much it royally hurts; it's like having something pointy stuck to your back, but right in the middle where you can't reach it, and the only thing you can do is try to distract yourself with bad habits, talk about it incessantly or fight the urge to throw yourself off a cliff just to make it go away. unfortunately, waiting for it to dry up and fall off is the only thing that actually works.

however it upsets me that i can't do anything to make it go away faster for any of them. except sit here, wait for reports, and hope it gets better. real soon.

you know what pisses me off? II

people who hang out in the bathroom, chatting away as if it were a coffee shop. about the war, about their new hairstyle, about their children's sleeping habits. especially when there is no "foyer" in the lavatory. it's not even a place that is good for a private conversation as it is a) tiny b) echoey and c) not a conference room/elevator/grocery store line/watercooler. dude, get in, do your business, wash up, and GET OUT!

thank god i don't have stage fright.

jolt of realization

"my camera has been eating through batteries like nobody's business."

"are you using those rechargeable ones?"

"yeah, but the green light hasn't been showing up on the charger. can you take a look at them?"

"sure, no problem. hang on, i have to get something out of the closet... okay, let me see those."

"oh. my. God."

"what? what happened? you have a problem with me wanting to know how much juice your batteries have?"

"no. but you know how they say, no matter how unlikely it seems, every girl inevitably seeks out a guy who has qualities like her father?"

"you got this from the fact that i have my own voltmeter?"

"that and how you jumped at the chance to use it. i never really saw it until this very moment."

"is that so."

"yeah. my dad's is yellow."

you know what pisses me off?

when someone is reading while walking, aimlessly, bobbing and weaving about the office hallway. it makes it increasingly difficult for me stop myself from taking off my pointy highheel and sticking it between his shoulderblades to get him to watch where he's going because he's blocking my path to the printer for a report that's already ten minutes late to begin with BEFORE i ever get to it.

that pisses me off.

do you need a prescription for an inscription?

you know what i've noticed? nobody inscribes books anymore.

i remember back in the day when i'd peruse the used bookstore, i'd love to pick up a book and look to see who the giver, recipient and the occasion was. like on a book about a dog who is bad but its owners love it anyway:

dearest timmy,
you're my favorite.
love grandma
christmas 1968

or a picture book about the Rocky Mountains:

darling,
remember when we enjoyed this view?
yours always,
kenneth

or on a murder mystery in large print:

Doris,
Hope that prosthetic eye is treating you well!
get well soon.
Maude

what the hell? are the only people who write in books authors? and they're dedicating them to people they don't even know? what, are people trying to add the option to dump the book on eBay as an added bonus or something? or maybe the fact that everything is typed out now, people's handwriting is completely illegible? (as evidenced by the atrocious penmanship on a birthday card, which was only understandable because my friend has been trying to decipher my handwriting for 12 years now)

what gives, book lovers?

except dialing fingers don't get drunk

"hi there."

"how's it going?"

"pretty good, i'm out shopping for shoes with cc. what are you doing?"

"nothing much. i pretty much just woke up."

"it's early for you out there. to whom do i owe the honor of such an early call?"

"well, i'd say it has something to do with the fact that you demanded i promise to call you as soon as i woke up this morning before you finally let me hang up the phone last night."

"i did? did we talk for long?"

"i believe we talked for about an hour. and you did NOT want to get off the phone."

"an HOUR? it felt like about 2 minutes."

"uh, no. and i kept telling you, 'cadiz, it's four a.m., don't you want to get some rest before you meet up with cc tomorrow morning? you don't want to be tired for shopping, do you?' and then you'd be like, 'okay. i guess so.' and i'd think i'd convinced you and say, 'okay, so we should both sleep. i'll talk to you tomorrow.' and you'd be like 'NO!' i was so tired, and you just wouldn't let me go."

"oh no. i'm so sorry. i had been drinking that riesling last night."

"yeah, you told me. it was really hard to understand you. half the time i was guessing what you were saying and you'd repeat it, but it'd be so slurry i still couldn't get it. i think you said something about benny wanting crackers?"

"we were eating crackers right before we crashed on the couch. R had white crackers and wheat crackers. but i don't know that other part. but benny is what my mom calls my dad, so that's REALLY freaking weird. i don't know why the hell i'd say that."

"that's pretty much all i could decipher. it was frustrating. except you did tell me that you love me about seventeen gazillion times."

"well, does that make it any less meaningful?"

"not at all. i love you."

"yeah, i love you too. i'm sorry i was so drunk."

"it's okay. it would have been a little better if i weren't in the car with the guys. it wasn't a short conversation and they kept looking back at me wondering what the hell was going on."

"why? they drink, they know how it is. didn't you tell them i was a little tipsy?"

"yeah, but not till after i got off the phone. i said, 'uh yeah, she's had a few.' then they laughed."

"aww, did i embarrass you?"

"nah, it's cool."

"so... did you say it back every time i told you that i loved you?"

"well, i can't say that i said it every single time. probably every other time. but believe me, i said it plenty."

"sorry, that's the way i am when i have a buzz. whatever emotion i'm currently feeling gets multiplied by about 12."

"i'm starting to get that."

"good, because you're going to want to remember it so you can make sure that you don't piss me off."

the fever could be breaking

so i was sitting in the dungeon thinking to myself, self, what will you watch tonight when you finally get home?

a) world cup soccer fastforwarding to the good parts
b) mtvmotherland top ten videos
c) the second half of national treasure
d) motherland cooking show (may go well with the Portillos my brother picked up for me tonight)
e) die hard 3 (the only one i haven't seen yet)
f) saturday night fever (what was all that travolta fuss about?)
g) one of four cheesy romantic comedies

i was about to consider the options more carefully when i stopped to wonder why the pickins were so slim. it hits me: i HAVEN'T RECORDED anything in THREE DAYS.

maybe it's over? no more send-the-wife-to-a-spa-and-redecorate-hideously shows? no aging professional wrestler reality sitcoms left? nary a Cosby rerun? was the dish obsession just a phase? that only lasted three weeks? good God, maybe i'm settling into the denoument of a comfortable, healthy television lifestyle.

dammit, i probably missed something awesome.

staking a spot

you know that you have managed to crack through the steel perimiter, elbow your way through crowds of masters and legends with elaborate seasonal homes, wade past hordes of statistics and memories to claim yourself a humble corner in the heart of a true sports fanatic when you can ask-- without first checking if he already knows the outcome-- 'hey, did you see Nadal win the French Open today?' and still live to tell the tale.

however, it's not for the faint of heart. i do not recommend it.

trapped in the dish

you know when i said i got cable via a dish and that's all i do now? it's true.

i watch television. and when i'm not watching, i'm setting things to record so i can watch later and when i'm not doing that, i'm thinking about what could potentially be on that i haven't recorded and the amount of space left on the dvr for recording. it's as though if i sleep or do errands or GOD FORBID have the television OFF for any period of time, my brain will slowly leak from my left ear, dripping into a puddle that will run into the drainage grate by the driveway and mingle with the entire community's waste in a big cesspool from which i will never be able to extract it. all because i MAY HAVE MISSED SOMETHING.

but don't worry, my employers have a 12-step program to wean me from this obsession. it's called dungeon duty. wherein i will have nothing but time while waiting for reports at which point i will write drawn out posts to make up for all the ones i could have shared. like the joys of MTVmotherland and how The 4400 is starting up again and MOVIE CHANNELS! or maybe i'll write about something real.

stay tuned.

simple pleasures

'did you see that obit in today's paper about this lady who was a curler?'

'no, was it a good one?'

'it was terrible! this woman lived for seventy-some-odd years and the entire thing was about curling! how boring. who wants to read about that?'

'well, i know somebody who really enjoys it. he's even got special shoes and everything. and he makes it sound kind of interesting.'

'well, i think it's boring. and i happen to know the girl who wrote the story. she said the husband-- who is all about curling, too-- that curling is all he wanted to talk about in the interview. you know the kicker? she had like three kids and they were just barely mentioned at the end as survivors. this woman was hard core. i guess she helped get curling into the Olympics or something.'

'maybe that's what she really was passionate about. c'mon, don't be so hard on her, she's dead. what about you? what do you think they'd say in your obituary?'

'well, i think i'd be all right as long as they didn't talk about hair or fashion.'

'why not? t, you're the only person i know who can pull off that shade of tangerine and still look fabulous. and you have a new, cool, hairstyle every week.'

'i know, i know, but there's more to me than that. it's just not what i want to be remembered for, you know?'

'oh right, aren't you on a bunch of committees in your town and always writing your Congressperson about something or another? how about "community activist"? '

'yeah! that's the kind of stuff i hope people would remember. what would they say for you?'

'i doubt i'm important enough to make the paper unless i get gunned down by a psycho soccer mom or something. but i guess they'd have to say something like "Cadiz Twelve: That Girl Really Loved her Television." '

***

i got tagged by our very own curling master, Omar. here are ten of my simple pleasures:


10) sappy-ass movies with plot holes the size of wyoming, bad acting and cheesy endings that i didn't want to pay nine bucks to see in the theater or waste three days of my netflix to order but still secretly wanted to see

9) being able to rewind after i've realized i'd been dozing and missed something critical, like what exactly the hero did to mess up and lose the girl

8) being able to forward through the scary parts without having to actually watch someone get stabbed/shot/jumped/raped/dismembered, only in fast-forward

7) when one of my roommates ignores the fact that i'm concentrating on the hero's part-apology-part-love-professing speech (the only worthwhile part, btw), stands directly in my line of vision trying to converse with me, i can pause live television and not miss a WORD.

6) knowing exactly how many taps of the forward arrow it takes to skip the entirety of the commercial break without having to rewind

5) that my roommates still haven't quite figured out how to search for their shows or set an entire season to record at one time, so i can fill up the dvr with my sappy movies

4) being able to hear the actors use actual swearwords instead of dubbedover epithets. somehow ray liotta's "melon farmer" substitute in 'Goodfellas' just doesn't have the same panache as the real thing.

3) catching up on all the stuff i've only just heard about all this time. for example, reading an online article about Stephen Colbert's show doesn't really convey the fact that he pronounces it the 'Colbear Reporrr.'

2) being able to set something for recording at the same time BBC news or 'According to Jim' or whatever else my roommates watch while i'm at work

1) never! again! having to sit through another stupidass skincare infomercial/timeshare pyramid scheme/flimsy cooking gadget/magical stain-remover program when it's 4 a.m. and i can't sleep. not to mention the neverending parade of personal injury/racyphoneline/diet pill commercials. praise the Lord!


sorry, guys. I would just tag Guyana Gyal, because i know she loves these things as much as i do, but her computer is busted. so Jon and Ale, you're up.

nothin a little gnarles can't fix

he did it again.

i was pissed. but then 'crazy' came on.

and then i was happy.

letter of the law

'hey daddy, where's that drivers' license facility you said isn't as busy? i have to get a state i.d. card.'

'it's just off church road. short lines, only takes ten minutes and you're done. all you have to do is show the yellow slip they gave you when you got pulled over.'

'uh, dad, i just realized i accidentally put my copy of the speeding ticket in with the check i mailed back to wisconsin.'

'WHAT?! why did you do that?! do you realize that you're essentially driving without a license? if you get stopped now, THEY'RE GOING TO PUT YOU IN JAIL!'

'man, you're always trying to scare me! why do you do that?'

'i'm not trying to scare you. i'm your father, i'm just looking out for you. that wasn't a very smart thing to do. why didn't you ask me if you didn't know?'

'i DID know, i just made a mistake.'

'when did you send it?'

'monday.'

'you've been driving around for FOUR DAYS like this? ugh. cadiz, what am i going to do with you? okay, just call the people out there and ask them to fax you a copy of the ticket. you've been lucky, but you don't want another ticket, do you?'

***

'hello, i was pulled over in your town a couple of weeks ago and i accidentally enclosed my copy of the ticket in with the payment of the fine. is there any way you can please fax it to me?'

'well ma'am, i just sent several things that were back from municipal court out yesterday, have you checked your mail?'

'i haven't received it. but i would feel better having some kind of proof of ticket.'

'well, i could fax it to you, but frankly ms. cadiz, i feel uncomfortable sending you that kind of information. the ticket has a lot of pertinent information about you, and i can't be sure it's really you who's requesting it.'

'what? who else would want a copy of a speeding ticket?'

'i know, ma'am, but i'm just trying to protect you. i wouldn't want to be responsible for things like your driver's license number and date of birth getting into the wrong hands. don't worry, if your license isn't in the mail today, it will be there tomorrow. and if you are stopped by your local authorities in the meantime, feel free to give them this number and we can verify that we issued you a ticket and that your driver's license is in the mail.'

'... i see.'

'thank you, and have a good day.'

***

'oh my god, can you believe they won't fax me my ticket? it was that same jerk who pulled me over in the first place! i recognized his name and by-the-book sanctimony. UGH! now what the hell am i going to do? show my passport when i get carded at dinner?'

'wait, when did they say you should get your license back in the mail?'

'today, why?'

'did you check already?'

'no, the mail wasn't here yet when i had first called and i thought it wouldn't be a big deal for him to fax it.'

'uh, because this envelope is addressed to you. from wisconsin.'

'are you kidding? it's my freaking license!'

'you can never do anything the easy way, can you?'

hot ticket

Dear people responsible for creating and maintaining the mindboggling, counterintuitive red-tape of the United States' method of medical insurance:

i hate you.

when you arrive, i hope your skin bubbles into searing pustules that explode upon contact with the dry, hot atmosphere of HELL.

thank you, that is all.

love, cadiz

"Welcome to the 21st century. Finally."

i got cable.

a dish to be specific, with a loooooot of channels. CABLE TELEVISION! with a dvr!

yeah, so if you don't hear from me for awhile, it's because i'll be extremely busy watching TRL, E! True Hollywood Story, Mythbusters, the Real World, SportsCenter, The Daily Show, A Baby Story and all of the other crap that i've pretended to know about for all these years. a girl's gotta figure out what she's been missing.

my only problem is that i'll have to find something else to complain about. i'm sure it won't be that hard.

got a light?

saturday, cc and i went to Chicago Rocks, a hip hop showcase of home-grown mcs, (and talent that claims roots in Chicago). I was already in the mood to see some good stuff because i had gone to see cc and her crew dance at a performance earlier that day. Some of the noteables at the second day of the fest were Rhymefest, Naledge, Juice and the one everyone has been buzzing about, Lupe Fiasco (who wasn't on for very long).

there was breaking, paintings and a lot of love for the city--people hollered out for all sides but east, and threw up hands with fingers curled in a 'C.' it was a pretty good show. the only damper, however, was this annoying broad standing directly in front of me. she had long hair pulled into a low ponytail. now, i'm all for low-maintenance hair, but DAMN, if your hair is so dry and prickly that it sticks out farther sideways than longways, you are in need of product! this pissed me off because a) i couldn't see around her lightbrown puffball b) i couldn't move any closer for fear of being scratched c) she pounded about 5 beers and was dancing all offbeat and crazy, so i couldn't concentrate on what i paid to see because i was bobbing and weaving trying to avoid being stabbed.

i don't smoke and this may sound nasty, but that's an instance where i wished lighting up was still allowed inside. one errant glowing red tip and that puffyass bouncing bird's nest would have gone up like a stack of matches.

truly outrageous

'i didn't realize there were cartoons on in the morning until i was in like 5th grade.'

'are you KIDDING me?!'

'it's no joke. of course then i was waking up before the sun was out to catch as many as i could before school. and saturday, forget it.'

'i loved cartoons any time of the day, but even that couldn't get me out of bed early. except maybe for the 'Smurfs'.'

'yeah, i remember all those really good shows. like 'Transformers.' but then they go and put 'Jem' on. then 'Thundercats.' what a way to mess with a lineup. i always thought it was such a mistake. it should have gone straight from 'Transformers' to 'Thundercats.' none of that 'Jem' nonsense. they could have just shown two 'Transformers' instead.'

'but Jem is excitement. oooo-oooh, Jem is adventure! c'mon, dude, that was a good show.'

'uh, Jem sucks.'

'whatever. i'll bet you got your ear pierced with the secret hope that one day, you too could have a magical earring turn you into a superstar.'

'nah uuuh.'

speed trap

this weekend, we went on a road trip. we took our bride-to-be, r, for a weekend of relaxation out in the country. with the crossing of state lines and having to be there by 8 a.m. sharp, we had to hit the road at 5 a.m. and even though i couldn't sleep a wink, we left at 5:40. I tried to make up for it by pushing my little black car beyond the speed of sound and passing every loser in the left lane who didn't get the hell out of my way.

i was feeling pretty good, we were going to barely make it in time. but unfortunately, about a mile and a half from our destination on a two-lane highway that cut through farm fields, we thought to pass the two cars in front of us. i hesitated a bit, but went ahead-- just as i caught sight of a cop sitting in a gravel parking lot up ahead. sure enough, the flashing bubbles went off as soon as i passed. i was cited for speeding (53 in a 30). his police-speech seemed well rehearsed; he didn't want to hear anything about how it was legally 55 where we started to pass, there wasn't a 'no passing' sign and that he stopped us about ten feet after the speed was reduced to 30. He simply told me i should feel real lucky he wasn't citing me for passing at an intersection (that dirt driveway counts as an intersection?) and took my license away. i can only get it back in the mail for $129. as i drove away in shame, the cop stopped up a block, got out of the squad car and adjusted a street sign that had been tilting slightly to the left.

needless to say, we arrived late. the first appointment we were scheduled for was a 50-minute massage that cost a pretty penny. but because we were late, it was cut to 30 minutes. i was trying very hard not to think about how that stupid cop not only got me for the price of the ticket, but also for $176 dollars' worth of our massages. i just couldn't relax. later, however, the woman giving r a pedicure told her that the town we were stopped in (Walworth, WI) has very little going on to keep the police busy. she said that her ten-year-old daughter was riding her bike there and came home with a ticket-- for failing to use an arm signal at a stop sign. so that jerk would have gotten me for something either way. after that, i was able to fully enjoy the steam room, sauna, hot tub and pool.

when i woke up this morning i found out that my license plate sticker had been expired. ha! you missed that one, you nitpicky bastard.

i know not what i do

to anyone whom i may have snapped at/barked at/whined at/slammed a door on/stomped away from/made a nasty remark to (even if it was the truth)/cut off/tailgated/glared at/honked at/sneered at/made to slow down because i walked in front of even though the sign said 'don't walk'/didn't engross in witty banter with/didn't cooperate with/didn't listen to/looked oddly at/given a hard time to/rolled my eyes at today:

stop pissing me off.

just let me be mad and don't say 'tivo'

i was really looking forward to seeing the new episodes of 'The Amazing Race' and 'Lost' tonight. i spent 15 minutes programming my roommate's new dvd/vcr. what i didn't realize until i came home and had time for a test was that "program" only means number of time and settings show up in the display corner for the alloted time and absolutely NOTHING gets recorded.

i am livid.

twilight zone

last weekend, we had tickets to a comedy show that H really wanted to see. the venue was an old-school renovated theater i had seen in a newspaper article years ago-- quaint, like a toned-down version of 'The Majestic.' and the name of the town was familiar, too, in an i-saw-it-on-a-high-school-letterman's-jacket-at-the-mall kind of way.

the plan was that we'd get an early dinner at one of my favorite spots in the city and head out to the show with plenty of time to spare. it was a good plan. well thought-out, even. to avoid confusion, i had written out the directions and grabbed my trusty map (because everyone knows a car ride with cadiz includes at least one three-point turn). but as we got our bearings, it seemed the destination was a little farther than i had estimated. about 25 miles farther.

we decided it'd be less of a hassle to grab some food near the theater; that way we wouldn't risk being late rushing through dinner. and if we made it a light meal, we could swing by the original restaurant on the way back and have a leisurely meal without the crowd. everybody wins.

this would have been a grand plan if we had known anything about the place we were going.

the road into town had an industrial feel. like any other suburb, there were gas stations, fast-food joints and a kmart. but there were also dilapidated warehouses and factories, remnants of an old steel plant. and churches, lots of churches. there was probably a house of worship on every block, if not two, and one across the street for good measure. now, i'm all for having choices, especially when it comes to something as personal as prayer, but the reason the abundance of them seemed so odd was because there were no people.

sure, on the neighborhoody outskirts, an occasional grandmother shuffled up the sidewalk with a toddling grandbaby, or a hooded teenager coasted by on a mountain bike. but as soon as we turned onto Main Street and entered downtown, it was as though every living soul had run for the hills. i was half expecting tumbleweed to roll by at the stop sign. there were endless parking meters on either side of the street. dated photographs in a portrait studio window had faded to a monotone shade of tan, the edges curling. there were boarded-up businesses. a bank that looked as though it hadn't been updated since the '60s. a corner building had a vertical sign that said 'restaurant' in big green letters, across its windows painted 'the best chinese/japanese food in town' in big loopy letters. it was dismal. it was dreary. it was dead. it was five p.m. on a saturday afternoon. we parked ten feet from the entrance to the theater and didn't even bother to refill the meter. who was going to ticket us?

walking around, we got more and more creeped out by the silence. even the Subway sandwich shop we went into for a snack exuded an eerie aura; the only real sound was the hum of the ceiling fans. H and i became uncomfortable, convinced that this was exactly what a bustling town would look like five years after body snatchers invaded, turning townspeople into zombies or however it goes in those black-and-white horror movies. we just couldn't figure it out. especially because it seemed so full of potential: fairly close to the city, interesting but rundown architecture and most of all, right on lake michigan. it's appalling that property with even a sliver's view of the same body of water goes for hundreds of thousands of dollars an hour south, and this town was enjoying a full-on gaze from crumbly apartments with overgrown trees or boarded-up windows.

we were eating our sandwiches quietly, save for a few wide-eyed whispers about how odd the place was, for about fifteen minutes before the door jangled and some red-faced frat boys came in. it was obvious they were also in town for the show. and by the time we got up to leave, many more people were out on the street, a steady stream making their way into the theater lobby from all directions. like zombies.

when we found our seats in the theater, everything seemed perfectly normal. the show was hilarious. H half-expected the comedian to remark about the creepiness of the town, but he didn't. for a couple hours, we relaxed, and when the show was over, the crowd filed out and people got into their suvs and sedans. but because of our prime parking, we had to wait until traffic dispersed. then we buckled up, turned on the tunes and joined the tail end of a parade of cars headed up Main Street toward the highway and out of town. as i made the turn, i caught sight of that lonely little intersection in my rearview mirror, empty once again.

i couldn't get out of there fast enough.

cursed

'yeah, so these people from work who have season tickets might sell their tickets and then take the seats next to us at tomorrow's game.'

'so, who are these people with season tickets....?'

'the guy who got me those tickets last year. but i've forgiven him.'

'oh... so why don't you ask them if they want to sell some games this year?'

'i thought you said last week that they're not worth watching because of that whole derek lee thing.'

'yeah, but i was in an upset state then.'

'ah, okay. well then i'll see.'

'you know, it's gotten to the point where the General Manager needs to take a billy goat out on michigan avenue.'

'because of the curse?'

'yeah, i was talking to someone related to the organization and i asked him if he believed in curses. the guy was like, 'if you asked me before 2003, i would have said no, but now...' because you know that guy with the goat said 'you'll never win a pennant or a championship ever again.' just because they kicked out his smelly goat.'

'what happened in 2003 again? didn't they win?'

'cadiz. do you even LIVE in chicago?!'

'yeah, why?'

'in 2003, they were 5 outs away from winning the pennant and then that f-er Steve Bartman reached out and ruined it. it's a curse, i tell you.'

'i thought you don't believe in that stuff.'

'yeah, but this is about SPORTS, cadiz.'

we don't communicate anymore, vanna

i make it a point to turn my phone to silent when i'm at work, mostly because there just aren't long enough breaks to eat all my dinner in one sitting, let alone converse with someone unrelated to the task at hand. but i also do it because i know it would only ring when i'm at the printer or the bathroom and i just don't have a forcefield strong enough to deflect the kind of collective deathray gaze that would incite. yet i don't turn it off, because i can usually peek at text messages and reply via e-mail. plus, you never know when something important will come up.

tonight i was skimming reports when from my jacket pocket i heard the increasingly loud beginning of 'with you,' the only ringtone my phone offers that makes me smile, even from the depths of REM sleep. it was my college roommate, pp, who i rarely chat with because she gets up at the bootycrack of dawn and is asleep before i even clock out on most nights. i think i disappointed her; you know the feeling, when you've got this clever message all composed in your head and the person has to go and mess it up by answering the phone? yeah.

it seems pp and her boyfriend, k, were hanging out, watching Wheel! of! Fortune! and the puzzle was 'same name.' they had a question about the connection between the two things:

ROLLERCOASTER & PAUL REVERE'S RIDE

naturally, whenever anyone needs random information, the only solution is to call cadiz. the fact that people think of me in times of crisis is what keeps me going, and i'm not even kidding. sadly, though i'm a seasoned 'WheelWatcher,' i've been out of the loop for quite some time. (to be honest, i enjoyed it best during the days when contestants chose prizes from the rotating stage. damn, i wanted that porcelain dalmation so badly back then.)

pp and k had perfect timing. i had been waiting on a report and it was a welcome distraction. i knew there was something about Paul Revere's midnight ride of '75 to warn that the British were coming, but i couldn't come up with a rollercoaster name that had anything to do with it. (and despite my love for Gforces, i'm out of the rollercoaster loop, too). is there one called Midnight Warning? Revere's Romp? The British Are Coming Curve? what the hell could it be? k was especially disappointed that i didn't know; he was the one who suggested they call me, because 'that's exactly the type of thing that only cadiz would know.'

so of course, that put me on a mission. after searching around on google, all i could come up was this, but i hardly think the height requirements necessary to enjoy 'Paul Revere's Midnight Ride' at Holiday World & Splashin' Safari in Santa Claus, Indiana qualifies as enough fodder for a nationally syndicated game show. but after searching awhile, i began to wonder if i was overthinking it just a little. after all, the beauty of 'Wheel' is that it's so obvious it's tricky, right?

regardless, as i was finishing my shift, all i could think about was how nice it'd be to spend an evening lounging around on the couch in my pajamas, yelling, 'c'mon! how about a freakin C, dumbass!' with my roommates again.

when it's my turn, i hope i can afford j.lo

to all of you out there who have ever planned a wedding: God bless you.

The Force

cc's seven-year-old, b, has the most beautiful imagination. it's right up there with the human half of 'Calvin and Hobbes.' and there's nothing b loves more than a character with superpowers. every time i came to visit last year, he'd put on his spiderman costume and run around saving people. even without it, he'd stop midstride in a wide-footed stance, aim his wrist at you, scrunch up his face and say 'kssh! ksssh!' as the imaginary web made it impossible for you to move.

every time i check in with him, b is emulating a new hero (i think the character of the week is king kong right now), but no matter how many may come and go, it seems the boy has a special place in his heart for The Force. perhaps it's because his father was a fan, or maybe because that sort of thing is appealing no matter what decade you were born in.

his father, P, once told me a story about a saturday afternoon when cc was at dance practice. B's dad was in the mood for a nap and the little superhero decided it was a fine time to polish off a sizeable chunk of the Frango Mints P had said were off limits because he was going to use them to make a mintchocolate cheesecake that evening. later, when confronted by his parents with the chocolatey evidence smeared along the edges of his mouth, b says so innocently that it had to be the truth: 'i know i shouldn't have done it. but daddy, the dark side was too strong.'

B must have really taken to heart his father's detailed speech about always using The Force whenever he felt the dark side taking over. Because not too long after that incident, they had me and my friend over to the house for dinner. as we went to ring the buzzer downstairs, b was already there, sitting on the stairs in a huff. i came into the foyer to greet him and he yelled, 'i thought i was your boyfriend!'

i said the only reason i brought this guy was because last time i was over, cc asked b if i was his girlfriend and he had said no, Amy the third-grader is his girlfriend. after a bit of cajoling that he is indeed my number one man, b seemed to be all right. (to be honest, i was a little miffed myself about being replaced by a younger model, but you've gotta give the kid props for going after Amy, a woman two years his senior who is reputed for taking charge of the playground.)

dinner went pretty well for the most part, but b wanted to show me all the cool stuff he'd gotten for christmas. i was impressed with his new darth vader voice changer helmet. he came into the dining room with it on, looking a little like rick moranis in 'spaceballs' because the helmet was so huge on his tiny little frame. simulating vader's heavy, even breathing, he raised his hand in the air and said something i didn't quite catch. it was very impressive. and i'm pretty sure he would have launched into the full light saber duel reenactment if he hadn't been summoned for bed. i love that kid.

on the drive home that night, my guest and i were discussing the evening.

'i think that went pretty well, don't you?'

'yeah, they were cool. i'd say it was a success. uh, except maybe for the part where b was trying to kill me.'

'what?'

'actually, he was doing a pretty good imitation of that scene in the first movie where darth vader is annoyed at one of the imperial guards and just puts his hand up in the air, using The Force to strangle the guy.'

'so that's what he was doing! i didn't catch it because of the voice changer.'

'yep. pretty much.'

'hmmm. well let that be a lesson to you, mister. you'd better treat me right because you have got yourself some very tough competition.'

pick a good stage name, folks

'hey, did you hear? raj kumar died. people are rioting.'

'who raj kumar?'

'no, silly, not anybody we know in real life. the actor.'

'my favorite actor raj kumar? oh. i thought he was already dead.'

'i just saw his obituary in the paper today. he's the one with the mustache, right?'

'well, yeah, but that could also be rajkumar. he made films in the kannada language. totally different.'

'good lord. what are the odds you'd have two old indian guys who used to be megastar actors who look sort of similar with their mustaches and whose names sound exactly the same with the only difference being a space?'

'not everyone is creative when naming their children.'

the world is small when you have minutes

last week when i was doing the cellphone shuffle, some of you brought up the notion that getting rid of my phone altogether could improve my life. while i completely agree that it's liberating and wonderful not to be chained to the thing as i am, i've been thinking that the little singsongy piece of nonsense adds quite a bit of joy to my existence.

it's obvious that with my schedule, most human contact is via telephone or email. however, i seem to log more minutes with the people farther away than the ones living right here. which doesn't really make sense till you factor in taking for granted the 'i'll just see you at the next gettogether' mentality that we must all maintain to keep our sanity with all the work/errands/chores that are required to stay alive. that said, there are a few things that allow me to reach out and touch someone nearly whenever: mainly a) free nights and weekend calls b) 1,000 daytime minutes a month c) free cellphonecompanyuser-to-cellphonecompanyuser d) car charger e) time differences across the united states

* i get a call from my girl ale several times a week during her lunch hour. this is beneficial for me because my ears have been programmed to ignore the alarm clock and/or rationalize staying in bed for an hour too long and her new york lunchtime coincides with when i should be getting up nearly every day. and her zest for life coupled with hearing the bustling streets of nyc is a great way to nudge me into starting my day. (b, c, e and sometimes a)

* my brother lives in alabama. we talk nearly every day, usually on my way to work or as i'm getting ready, even if it's just to say, 'hey, what's going on-nuthin, you?-not much.' often i ask him for news from my parents, even though they live in the same town as i do, because they harass him in the evenings about eating right and taking medicines and manage to slip in all the good gossip. my brother is my reality check and has no qualms about telling me to chill out when needed. plus he's a student, so he obviously has nothing to do all day. just kidding. (b, c, d and sometimes a)

* my mother calls me to say hello "when she has a break," which roughly translates to 'around the time she knows i should be getting ready to leave the house, but also when i could still make it, in the event of oversleeping, you know, just in case.' nobody knows you better than your mother. (a, d)

* every night on my way home, i talk to H, who lives in california. this works especially beautifully because even if i get off in the middle of the night, it's still two hours earlier for him. he's one of the funniest individuals i know, and on top of that, he can endure my endless whining about parking with a smile. (a, d, e)

* my people right here in chicago, who all work days and whom i must take a chance on harassing at work as i crawl through traffic. these are the folks who i don't talk to as often, but have a better chance of hanging out with in person. miss you guys! (a, b, c, d)


so it's looking like the phone is here to stay. i am a little disappointed because samsung released a very delicious looking new model, precisely one week after i sealed the deal on this one. oh well.

but if you'll excuse me, i have to hurry up and get ready. my brother just called and i lied, saying i was about to go take a shower because i'm supposed to be leaving in fifteen minutes yet here i am, still sitting here in my pajamas. i'll just call him from the road.

losing it

'ugh. you know, the people who live here next will be finding my stray hair all over the place for decades to come.'

'yeah, i'm still finding them in my apartment.'

'seriously? i haven't been there in almost two months!'

'yes, ma'am.'

'good lord, it's a wonder that i'm not BALD, the hairs i lose a day. it's upsetting.'

'you're normal. do you have any idea just how many girls i know who have said that exact same thing? 'i shed so much, i'm going bald.' believe me, YOU. ARE. ALL. THE. SAME: normal.'

'sure. tell me that again when i have no hair.'

it's the humidity, honest

the other day my mom was on her way to the store and asked if i needed anything. she is the only person who fully grasps how incredibly taxing it is for me to crawl out of bed even a millisecond before ten minutes after the time i need to in order to get to work at a reasonable hour. she also knows this is why lunch consists of whatever i can eat on my way out the door and why i haven't blow-dried my hair in a decade. i just twist my hair into a bun and go because a) it's long and i don't have time to hassle with it, b) i don't want to be dripping all over the place and most importantly, c) it's pretty wavy/curly so if i let it air-dry without it being tied up first it does so from the top-layer down, resulting in a halo-like effect-- the degree of which depends on the humidity. however, this rarely happens because my system usually works like a charm-- i only frightened small children on one or two occasions.

my mother was not surprised when i told her i was almost through my third travel-size shampoo and asked her to please get me a bottle of the bright green one, the shampoo-plus-conditioner-in-one if she could find it. i was extra appreciative because that day it was pouring rain and really could have used the extra time for the commute.

she came in with enough garnier fructis sleek & shine fortifying cream conditioner for frizzy, dry or unmanageable hair to bathe a small family of elephants. she did not bring any shampoo, may i add, but managed to procure a flask of the accompanying anti-frizz serum, you know, for good measure. mom claims she mistook the jumbo-dumbo bottle for a 2-in-1 and that the anti-frizz came with it as a promotion. likely story.

nevertheless, with a subtle hint like that i have no choice but to spend a little extra time in front of the mirror. or at the very least make sure my mother gets to see me on a day when it's not raining.

when bells and whistles make you deaf

i had my new phone for five days.

i wasn't feeling it. it was a different brand than my last two phones have been. it was hard to navigate. it seemed counterintuitive. the keys to work the text-message-guess-the-word thing were opposite what i tended to hit. it didn't tell me how long i'd been talking. all my contacts entries were in backwards order. the buttons were one flat panel and easy to misdial. and i couldn't charge it and talk on the headset at the same time. i was terrified that i was becoming one of those old people who can't adapt to new technology and spend all their time moaning about it instead of learning it. that prospect really scared me, so i hung onto the thing four days too long. (mostly because it was so very pretty.)

but today when i finally took it back and got a smaller, cheaper model with much fewer fancypants features-- one i could navigate easily and dial with one hand-- i felt right at home from the get go.

i know, i'm a quitter. but i'm happy. and $75 dollars richer.

not quite ready for the barn

'did you get that email i sent you with j's baby's portraits?'

'yeah, they were so cute! i can't believe they got a four-month-old to stay still and smile.'

'i especially liked the one where he was leaning on his elbow with that look on his face that says 'he-loooo, ladies!''

'that was so adorable. that's definitely something i'm looking forward to.'

'personally, i'm not so sure. because of j i've learned a whole lot more than i wanted to know about breastfeeding.'

'does it make that much of a difference?'

'i don't know, but with all that pumping and squeezing, i'd feel like a cow.'

back on the line

i managed to get myself a phone (i got the best deal at the inperson store). it's a different brand than i had before and seems counterintuitive and i have no patience for reading manuals. so i'm still not savvy, but i am reachable.

shhh, don't tell anyone.

on a mission for a homing device

the untimely demise of my cellular phone last friday was sad. very upsetting.

especially when i was to be in on helping coordinate a party for three people the next day, none of the other coordinators of which i had actually spoken to about the technicalities of when and where. so i had to do it [gasp] the old-fashioned way. you know, like be places i said i was going to be WHEN i said i was going to be there. it was strange not to call and check up on things or whine about how it took three tries to find an ice-cream cake store that hadn't been boarded up or a tmobile store that hadn't been shuttered. what's going on people? don't you love cold fattening treats and roving communication devices anymore? (and why are all the icecream places and cellphone showrooms always in the same strip malls?)

regardless, i showed up with the praline cream/white cake with shaky red-gel writing on top (the ice cream store i found was joined with a doughnut shop and the 'cake-writing lady' had the day off, so i did it myself). a good time was had by all.

with the worst over without my phone, i let it lag a bit. i looked around and checked out the phones in the store, where the guy told me that i'd likely get a better deal with tmobile representative via telephone. i let a day go by and called them up. the woman cordially told me i'd likely get a better rebate if i shopped online, because they're trying to get people to use the website. (interesting. maybe that's why two of the stores now have 'space for rent' signs in the window.) i let another day go by. i checked online. it was the same deal with the same rebate as everywhere else. at that point people i talk with regularly were getting annoyed by dealing with me on my mom's low-battery phone, my dad's blippity phone or my old dinosaur handset with the faulty speaker, let alone having to try all those numbers. at their behest, i made the decision to go ahead to the store to take the merchandise home same-day. and then i let a day go by. yeah, i still don't have a phone.

i'm starting to think that deep down inside, i just don't want to be reached.

out of touch

last night i dropped my phone. on concrete steps. i got to see what it looks like on the inside. it was a sad day because my phone is one of my only connections to other human beings.

i feel like i've been excommunicated from society.

rerun

it sucks when you get to work and wonder if you've already worn the sweater you currently have on sometime recently because it's baby-chicken yellow and memorable, which makes you feel like everyone is looking at you like you're Jim Varney from 'Ernest Goes to Camp' and have a whole closetful of the exact same outfit.

i know. i need a nap.

operating hours: noon to 5 a.m. unless you're bleeding

2 a.m.: working late in the dungeon.

6 a.m.: finally fall asleep

7:45 a.m.: roommate comes into my room, sits down and makes me read a letter he's really excited about even though i had already heard the news the day before. doesn't get the hint when i keep my eyes closed. finally leaves when i get snippy.

8:30 a.m.: friend calls. (cellphone is on because a phone call is much more effective than the alarm clock.) no message.

8:31 a.m.: house phone rings. roommate tells friend that i'm 'out' because i just bit his head off and he didn't want piss me off any more.

8:32 a.m.: friend calls cell again. no message.

8:35 a.m.: completely awake and starting to worry someone i care about might be lying in the street bleeding to death or something-- which would be an appropriate reason to necessitate three phone calls at my equivalent of THE DEAD MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT. unable to fall back asleep for fear i'm a horrible friend for not answering.

8:50 a.m.: call her back. no one is dead, thank god. i'm already awake, so i might as well talk. it was an important issue, but definitely one that could have waited a couple of hours.

9:15 a.m.: can't sleep.

10:15 a.m.: can't sleep.

11:15 a.m.: can't sleep.

12:15 p.m.: can't sleep.

1:15 p.m.: can't sleep.

2:15 p.m.: can't sleep.

i'm starting to think that my snoozing skills are starting to lag.

oh that's just the crickets

ever notice that when people are happy, they have a lot less to say?

just a thought.

primary punch

the election process can be such a pain in the ass. mostly at times when you go all the way to the new polling place they sent you a notice to find because your precinct has changed and the slow but kind old man can't seem to work his palm-pilot voter search thingy's stylus. he can't find your name and after twenty minutes you realize you can't afford to stay any longer to fill out a provisional ballot. so not only are you unable to fulfill your civic duty, you're late to work.

***UPDATE***
my parents, who are in the same precinct as i am, went to the same polling place later that evening and the people had no trouble finding my dad's name. he went into the makeshift cardboard booth to vote and another woman (who happened to be the one who had originally been unable to find me) couldn't find my mom. my father overheard the discussion and came out of the booth to say, 'she's my wife, if i'm there, she's there!' he was reprimanded by the polling police, who yelled at him to get back in there or his vote wouldn't count. the woman found them and then told my parents to apologize to me on their behalf -- we were all there: dad, mom, cadiz and even little bro, who lives in alabama and who i suspect has voted maybe once since he was able.

sometimes i wonder if the people working such an important facet of our democracy have to take a test first or at least get a little training. you know, in the alphabet and stuff.

girl, check out those zebras!

last night cc and i met up with our girl ray and ray's highschool friend k to see ray's college buddy perform on the south side. the start time listed was 8:30 p.m. we met up and went to the performance area, where about 15 people were milling around. they all seemed to know each other. The guy who was to perform wasn't anywhere around, except for the posters of him sitting on easels all around the lobby. a few people from his entourage who knew ray came up, hugged us and said hello. the show was not on time. 2 hours late. and there were a lot of opening acts. but we were there to see ray's friend, who did not end up going on until midnight.

most of the people around ignored us. like we were furniture. but some of them stared. like we were zoo animals. who had tails. or horns or something.

while we were waiting, we hung out at the bar and talked to a few people who seemed to think we were a novelty, being the only ones who were different. it's really amazing how you could live in the same city as a group of people, yet still seem so foreign to them. ray and k were especially disturbed by this, taking note of everyone who did a double take, or said stuff like, 'welcome ladies! we're ALL about the variety here!' or 'you're not leaving, are you? please don't leave!' or 'we're not going to steal your coats, we have a coat check you know' (we had been holding onto them for ray/k's trips outside for a smoke). cc made a good point: if we really thought that, we would have never come. sometimes people are quick to jump to conclusions.

i'm not sure how cc felt, but none of this stuff bothered me 1/10 as much as it did ray and k. maybe because i'm not caucasian? who knows. but quite possibly it's because as a person of color, i've been in that situation more times in my life than i can remember, and the what-the-hell-are-they-staring-at-me-for feeling is definitely not a new one. after awhile you realize people are curious or surprised and usually don't mean any harm. but that takes time. ray and k were considering leaving, they were so uncomfortable. but we all stayed.

RAM, ray's friend, was good. much better than his opening acts. and his sister was very talented, too, american-idol caliber. RAM was very sweet; having seen us in the audience he came over after the show to say hello and invite us to the afterparty. the fact that they were entertaining made the wait not so bad.

overall it was an interesting experience, despite the uncomfortable bits. but i honestly believe every person should be put in that kind of situation at least once in her/his life-- feeling out of place and under a microscope for no reason other than being who you are, in a way that is easy to see and impossible to hide. just to know what it's like.

day seventeen of dungeon duty

when you are desperately looking around the tiny office for something sturdy with which you can hang yourself

you can't out-give a giver

today's my mother's birthday, which is always a source of stress. because i'm pretty sure my mom is in the top ten of the world's best giftgivers. a) because she's always thinking of everyone else but herself and b) because her mind is like a bear trap with jagged teeth that will sever your leg before it will let go (which is dangerous if you ever want to bring up the past in an argument).

she's gotten me gifts i forgot that i wanted, items so perfectly suited to my needs that it's as though there's truth to that threat she made when i was in junior high that no matter how far i go or what i do she can always see me and will always find out. (and she always did somehow! but with age, i've realized it was poor deception skills on my part, not omniscience on hers, that did me in.)

the curse of being a great giftgiver is that you're rarely rewarded by your recipients. so every year i go out of my way to take notes on what she may want or need or even think about wanting or needing, just to try and make her day. and i fail more often than not. because great giftgivers are often horrible present-accepters, usually saying nonsense like, 'this looks expensive. why did you spend so much? save your money!' or 'this is pretty good, but i'm probably not going to use it' about the run-of-the-mill perfume/sweater/jewelry gift or combination thereof. so all that stuff is out. the real winners have been long letters i've written when i had no money and last year when me and my dad secretly flew my brother home and he rang the doorbell about ten minutes after she'd gotten off the phone with him telling her he was at his university's library. silly woman. that library thing was a dead giveaway.

there's no way i could top that. especially when she was like, 'remember when your brother came home last year? that was the best present i've ever received.' yeah. not gonna happen this year, lady. but i did have a pretty solid idea. and this time, i decided everybody was on their own as far as mom is concerned. none of this can-i-give-you-money-and-put-my-name-on-it bs. which was cool with my brother, who has always been pretty good about putting a card in the mail or sending flowers. but with my dad, things were a little trickier.

'hi daddy, what's up?'

'uh, nothing much. but i am in the carson pirie scott for the last two hours looking for a dress for your mother. i can't find anything good!'

'a dress? dad, she's not really into dresses, you know.'

'yes she is. i remember way back she always wore dresses.'

'uh, i think the important words in that sentence are 'way' and 'back' dad.'

'ugh! this is so annoying! i think i'm just going to get her some perfume. hmph!'

'no! we just got her some for christmas; how much perfume does she need? why don't you ask somebody in the store?'

'they're not helpful!' they're just sitting there behind the cash registers and they say 'the dresses are across that aisle.' they don't help you!'

'okay. how about some work clothes? she doesn't have enough work clothes. she needs some nice dress socks to go with her new brown shoes... no, how about a nice sweater?'

'cadiz. i just WASTED two hours and i had to come out of that store to call you because there's no reception in there! now i have to go back in?!'

'daddy, take a deep breath. it'll be okay. just go in there and get a sweater. but remember, she doesn't like turtlenecks.'

'okay, then what kind of necks? v-necks? round? i dont' know anything about ladies' clothing!'

'any one of those is okay. just no turtlenecks; she says they choke her. and not anything too thick-- she gets hot at her office.'

'buttons? is buttons in the front okay?'

'yes. that's good.'

'what colors?'

'oh god, daddy! just pick something nice!'

'she's not going to like it. she always says, 'that's too big,' or 'i don't like that style,' or 'i already have that color. this is why i don't do this. gifts are not my department.'

'see? this is what i have to do every holiday. but you know what? you're getting her something with love. just get a receipt and if she doesn't like it, she can exchange it for something else.'

'yeah! then i don't have to come back to this place! okay, i'm going back in.'

'good luck.'

i'm praying that she likes the burgundy buttonup sweater it took him another two hours to decide on.

breezy, cheesy

today i stopped to get gas on the way to work and while i was waiting, the wind almost blew me away. i'm not even joking; i had to sort of put my foot against the pump stand thing and stand at a weird angle to block it. the weather guy said downstate set a record of 107-mph winds (the previous record was 81 mph). i can imagine small children traveling like tumbleweed and parents trying to tether them down.

when i was walking into the dungeon-- flying in, the wind was at my back-- the security guard gave me the key to the office per usual:

'hey there, didn't think you were still on this shift.'

'yeap. a couple more weeks. geez, it is really windy out there!'

'sure is. do you know why they call chicago the 'windy city'?'

'yeah, because back in the day of the infamous chicago political machine, some newspaper writer from out of town came here and called it the 'windy city' because of all the blowhard politicians who were just full of hot air.' (i stayed at a fancy hotel downtown a couple years ago and the in-house channel had all these facts about chicago that were so damn captivating that i wasn't even tempted to switch over to cable for about 1/2 an hour.)

'nope. that's not why.'

'uh, YES it is.'

'no, it's not. the reason chicago is the windy city is because wisconsin sucks and indiana blows.'

'har har. see you later.'

housewarming

today i went to my friend from college j's housewarming. it's a beautiful place overlooking the lake, decorated in part by his lovely girlfriend. my roommate from college, pp, and her boyfriend were there, as were a lot of j's family and other friends.

it's amazing that we used to party with some of these people back in the day. late-night bashes in dark, dingy clubs or houses, sipping jungle juice out of plastic cups and jamming to bass-heavy music. these days, parties where i see them are usually during the day, in people's living rooms or back yards; we're chomping on burgers or potato salad off of plastic plates and the tv or radio is drowned out by the sound of playing kids.

amazing. it's only been a couple of years.

a was there. true to form, he brought his wife and baby boy and his daughter from before, who is probably about 6 or so. there were a few other kids, too, and they were running around, doing somersaults and giving 'the tour' (which was always a riot. they loved the part about showing people how j has a television in his bathroom).

i spent a lot of time watching the kids. not that they needed more supervision, but they were just so watchable. i was catching up with pp, but i couldn't stop looking over at the little ones. it was really amazing to look at a's son, who can't be even a year old, and see a's direct gaze, his same nose, and that cute tiny mouth, which he couldn't seem to keep closed.

and three of the little girls were playing 'concentration' with their aunt. you know, you clap the rhythm and at the pause someone has to say something in the pattern? so the aunt is like, 'okay, let's do p's!' and she says [clap clap]'purple!' and these little children are coming up with words like [clap clap]'pleasant!' and [clap clap]'platinum!' that just blew my mind. did i know words like that at that age?

at the end of the afternoon, i was stuffing my face with mini lumpia (j's girlfriend is filipina) and kabobs, trying to distract myself from the fact that i had to leave for work. a's daughter started crying when she saw her mom, who had come to get her. because she was having a good time and didn't want to leave. i mean, she was really crying. and nothing would console her until pp suggested she show her mom the tv in the bathroom. worked like a charm.

i was still smiling about those kids when i was trying to pay attention at my meeting later on in the evening. and then someone was talking about did you hear, a ten-year-old was caught by a stray bullet yesterday in her own home. again. yeah, not too far from where the 14-year-old girl getting ready for school was shot last week by a guy looking for his girlfriend's ex with a high-caliber rifle converted to fully automatic so that he could spray the entire block with 29 rounds in a matter of seconds. but this little girl was at her own birthday party. there were thirty kids in there, running around, yelling and tagging and playing concentration and somersaulting and pin-the-tail-on-the-donkeying or whatever it is that kids do at birthday parties these days. an aunt saw a car drive by slowly and open fire, and managed to get everyone down. but the little birthday girl, who would have been 11 on monday, panicked and stood up real quick to try and make a run for the back room when a bullet caught the back of her head. they didn't even get to cut the cake. both of those girls died.

i feel sick.

we don't need no water

it's 7:59 a.m. on a saturday morning. i am in the middle of the deepest part of REM slumber (remember 8 a.m. for me = 2 a.m. for the rest of you 9-to-5-ers). at precisely 8 a.m., there is one hell of a ruckus coming from six feet above my head. hammers. heavy boots. stacks of shingles. i wake with a start-- convinced that any second the ceiling's gonna crumble down on top of me and some heavy guy in a toolbelt is going to land on me and crack my spine in fourteen places.

i had been aware we were getting our roof done this morning. i had even tried to go to bed early, but only managed to fall asleep a little after 4 a.m. so i'm not as irritated as i could have been, but still really tired. so i sneak down to the spare room a few floors down and snuggle into the musty covers that are clean but don't get used often, hoping to fall back asleep. from there it just sounds like 400 gym shoes clunking around in a gigantic clothes dryer.

i'm asleep in minutes.

not even enough time for vegas

'can't wait to see you at your housewarming! is it true a's gonna be there too?'

'well that's what he said, but the proof is in the pudding, as Cosby used to say. but then you could meet his wife and his son, too.'

'he's MARRIED!?? how's his other kid(s?) doing? are they in chi or st. louis?'

'he was in Chi a few months ago, and he went out to lunch with me and my girl. i noticed he was wearing a ring, and i said jokingly, what, you're married now? he said, yeah man. i was like, yo, how come you didn't invite me to the wedding? he said, oh, cause i got married on my lunch break.

i couldn't make that up if i tried.'

'that is priceless.'

i need to go back to kindergarten

about halfway through my shift last night, i'm standing in the center of a sea of cubicles -- none of which are higher than my waist, mind you -- talking to a colleague about the project for the night. the woman who swaps books with me walks past, pauses, and comes back toward us. she reaches behind me and pulls on the tag of my sweater. it seems i've come to work with my sweater on inside-out. she laughs and everyone looks up. god only knows what kind of connotations that gives people. oh well. i just shrugged my shoulders and kept working.

however, i probably should look into getting some flashcards on how to dress myself.

a little envelope of sunshine

last week was a really bad one. like one of the worst weeks. in years.

i'm not even kidding. you know when you're having a rough day and every single second you're wishing you hadn't really woken up that morning and if you could, you'd pinch yourself right out of this nightmare and get to start over? well that was me. EVERY DAY. ALL WEEK. it was so bad that even i was like, DUDE, that's enough already. what the hell kind of horrible thing have i done to deserve this? seriously. SERIOUSLY!

but then it was over. sort of like a freak rainstorm you get caught in without even a newspaper to hide under. how did i know it was over? last friday, i opened the mailbox and found a letter from my college roommate, who doesn't live terribly far, but whom i get to see about 1/100 of the time i'd like to. she'd been cleaning out some stuff at her mom's house that weekend and found a list she'd written in 1999. 21 things about me. why i'm so cool. she had intended to do something with it for my 21st birthday, but it didn't happen for whatever reason. anyway, holding it in my hands was insurance that the week to come just couldn't possibly be as bad as the last.

i won't go into the whole list, but here are some highlights:

3. great facial expressions
5. girl can take a nap, anytime, anywhere
9. she amuses me with her sleeptalking
12. she's always ready & willing to take a study break
13. she can sleep through anything
14. her spotted tongue (sorry, no visual aid available.)
18. she's always prepared. (food, drugs, tampons, she has it all.)

some of that stuff on the list i had totally forgotten we used to do. reading it got me laughing again, which had seemed nearly impossible after all the crap i had been dealing with. honestly, it's little things that people do for you that truly make you value your own worth. most of the time it's no big deal to them and they don't often realize how much it means to you.

thanks, girl. your timing has always been impeccable.

milestone

so here it is: the post commemorating one year of do they read obituaries in hell?. i wish i were clever enough to come up with a sturdy thread to justify a post-montage in the style of how sitcoms do it when they're short on material/actors/budget/time -- you know the ones: they clip together all of Clair's birthday celebrations on Cosby ('when i was mom's age, lettuce cost fifteen cents!') or when they put together snippets on Friends about how it was that monica and chandler ended up together ('oooh! but do they know that we know that they know that we know?!'). but i'm not. at least right now.

so i'll keep it simple.

i work nights. and erratic days/hours. it could be that one day i start at 1 p.m., the next: 6 p.m., the next: 4:30 p.m., and so it goes. and sometimes i'm out in the dungeon till 3 a.m. in an office. by myself. in the middle of nowhere. waiting for reports. so it really has been a blessing to stumble onto your blogs and have people stop by and leave comments about my own ramblings. and it's great that even though i don't get to talk to my friends or see them nearly as much as i'd like, they can check in and make sure that i'm still haven't lost my edge (which i sincerely hope i haven't, because that and my ability to curse people with my tongue are my claims to fame).

last year at this time i was nursing a broken heart and trying to get acclimated to this crazy schedule and the long commute that it requires. and the parking, oh the parking! and while i'm still not used to the hours, the heart's in better shape and i've discovered some cool people and even met a few of them in real life.

so thanks for reading, peeps. a special shout-out to Ale, Jon, Jazz and Omar for being around since nearly the beginning and still somehow finding their way back over here today.

and because i really can't help myself-- and mostly because the reports are going to be late and i'm pretty bored-- i think i will go ahead and throw together a few snippets of some of the things i've been through here in the last year:

"just what i need. to be stranded out on the expressway in the middle of the night/day when there is no one free to come and rescue my sorry ass. i should really invest in AAA membership." (that was the first post and i still haven't signed up for AAA.)

"i CANNOT gather the strength to do much more than watch old school reruns, pbs cartoons or talk shows before i have to go to work."

"oh damn you, starbucks!
how you lure me from afar --
just across the street"

"i was like 'please don't turn around, please don't turn around' until i got to the corner. but of course, what did he do? turned around. and STARED. like a really creepy, i'm-going-to-wait-for-you here and drag you into the closet where i keep my highly noxious-fumed cleaning products."

"* show your friend the hallway you have made a point to routinely walk through in hopes of running into the guy you like who lives there. as you pass by, some other person walking behind you turns to go into your guy's room after hearing your entire conversation. it's his roommate."

"i'll bet this chick comes back to me for some kind of recommendation in about 4 years. maybe i'll tell her, 'sorry, i'm going to cancun for spring break.'"

"and besides, i do not recall even one time when my shoelaces got stuck in the Sit'n Spin because they came untied."

"and he said, 'of course.' what i meant was 'of course you'll come with me in a cab to my car and make sure i get in it safely because it's really late and i parked under a bridge, right?' but that's not technically what i said."

"i was glued to tv at friends' houses. and it didn't matter what was on -- one time i even watched golf, just to partake in the fobidden fruit. but i never realized just how much of a the deficiency i had until i graduated high school. some kids with overprotective parents get to college and start boozing and whoring around. i sat in the dorm room and watched the mtv music awards about five times in succession."

"i think i've developed an immunity.
to my deodorant.
again."

"under the joy of tungsten or fluorescent lights, i'm basking in unicolor, but in the daylight, i'm rocking a khaki/white-purple cow print."

"now the spirit of blood donation is one of giving, helping, sharing life with someone who may be going through a difficult time. WHY THE HELL DO THEY HAVE TO MAKE IT SUCH A F-ING PAIN IN THE ASS?"

"It was just as bad as has always been. And it still makes me suck in my breath. Like I’m seeing a piece of my own heart strapped down to the bed with 15 tubes coming out of every place not covered by a blanket. Even in his complete state of intubated ignorance, the kid was still trying to communicate: mouthing to us that he loved us, asking that the important people in his life knew it, too, and thanking us for being there. He even gestured to the nurse for a pen and paper though he didn’t have the strength to wrap his fingers around them and his eyes were still too swollen to see."

"to date, the best compliment i had gotten from her was, 'okay. your family won't starve.'"

"this guy's never going to log on again. he'll never have the chance to get an ego boost from the number of times his profile has been viewed since the beginning of the month."

"hiccups kill my street cred."

"62) i abhor my middle name. my favorite day is thursday and my favorite coin is the dime. of these things there has been absolutely no doubt since i can remember, any other favorites fluctuate constantly."

"maybe because for so long i had been doing nothing but feel. i might have overdosed. it's odd. to have the niagara falls of emotions falling out of you for so long, only to have it dried up on the day you were expecting to drown."

"usually i need a little bit of company when i'm by myself for many hours, but i don't think i thought about it for more than a second during that whole time. CC peeked out at me from backstage and later said i looked like a kid who was at the movies for the first time. i was riveted."

"this evening i was trying to get through my shift, but i couldn't concentrate on anything because a lineup of snackfoods were parading through my mind, enticing me, but not well enough that i'd want to eat any."

"i got into reading and even closed my eyes for a tiny nap when suddenly i hear, 'dude, someone took our seats! i guess we'll have to sit here,' coming from right behind me! holy chainsaws, i thought i was going to lose it."

"miss daisy duke has nice legs, but honestly not much of a booty. that probably speaks to how our image of what's attractive on a woman has evolved over the years, too. and for that i must say, 'thank you, jennifer lopez.'"

"you can only soak up so many boxes of kleenex before the pity party gets played out."

" 'let me tell you something, guy. NO girl likes being touched by a strange man, especially in that manner! what a crock of crap, 'i thought she'd like it.' you know, you give [shared ethnicity] a bad name! keep your damn hands to yourself!' "

"so next time you happen to hear me say, 'dude, i really could use some caffeine,' i think you should stand in front of me, put your hands on my shoulders, look me straight in the eye and, in a firm and clear voice, yell at the top of your lungs, 'NO FREAKING WAY.'"

" * the best hostesses know the first thing to get for a guest is a drink"

"let's not even get started on my rap-along skills ('mumblemumblemumble, uh, um... WOW HOW NOW, WOWHOWNOWBROWNCOW!')"

"but what i really detest more than all the rest is shopping for pants. seriously, it SUCKS."

"i'm supposed to be cheery and chatty and not annoyed that someone wants to know how i'm doing. i don't want to be like those ugly old people who yell at the kids who disturb their gardenias by letting the kickball fly into their yard. well, at least not for another fifty years."

"and on top of that, all four of them had matching annoying little oldschoolpajamatype sleeping hats -- you know, the ones that have the long tail that ends in a poufy pom pom? -- WITH STRIPES. it was like a freaking Gap commercial right there in the parking lot!"

"but inside i was thinking to myself, 'damn, i hope i have that much fun when i'm fifty.' "

"she was meticulous and thorough, which are great qualities to have when you're shopping. but not when you're in an underwear store with your ten-year-old son."

"and it all started because of that damn two-dollar brownie. but i have no regrets. that thing was really good."

"who says the sparkle in your life has to come from a diamond? i'm rocking some boring silver earrings i bought at Claire's Boutique in 1997 for ten bucks."

"maybe it's just a cost-effective measure: remove any absolutely unecessary letters and save some cash? dude, pat sajak and vanna white want their little wheel of fortune charge-for-vowels trick back."

much love

to three very special people who have always treated me like one of their own. i love you guys.

can't even stop for directions

ever get the feeling that you're desperately running, trying to get somewhere very important, but have no idea in which direction you're supposed to go; and even though you're huffing and puffing and sweating like a pig, most of the fatigue is from the constant searching for some sign of familiarity, some sort of signal that you're going the right way, that you've guessed correctly and congratulations, now you can finally slow down and take a freaking break, but you're petrified that you'll fly right past that essential turn; in fact, what if maybe all this time you've been running in circles and aren't actually going anywhere and you'll keep doing it until one day your heart just gives out and it'll only ever be over when you fall down and die, but you'll have no idea when it's coming until right that second when it up and happens?

yeah. me too.