Exploits of the Princess Hiker

Gossip, Porn and Other Vices

2006-08-10T17:56:00.000-04:00

"And I will start the best rumor ever because you'll never post to squash it. In fact, that's half of what the internet is for: fabricating and squashing rumors. The other half is porn." – The Big, Dumb American

So apparently I'm a lesbian now.

And I'm also tempting fate, as I seem to remember that the last time I quoted this particular source, I got flagged for inappropriate content. (Author’s Note: Hmmm. Let’s contemplate this for just a moment. Should fate choose to intervene, I’d suddenly be unable to post through no fault of my own, leaving you guys free to continue chatting amongst yourselves and leaving me completely off the hook.)

But until that happens – and before my mother and boyfriend read this and start asking questions, I guess I'd better use the internet (or half of it, anyway) for its intended purpose and start squashing some rumors.

Here goes.

I am not dead. I am not in rehab, in a cult, incarcerated, or back in Canada. I haven't been off saving the world with Bono, or sitting on a beach with Scott drinking Stellas and plotting the Greatest Blogging Comeback of Modern Times. (Though I'd be up for that.) I did not quit my job to campaign for the Republican party, or run off with JJ Redick to raise a future generation of pot-smoking, three-point-sinking poets.

And I have not become a lesbian.

So what's my excuse, then? Actually, I don't have one. I mean, sure; I could offer up a bunch of reasons for my recent lack of posts. New job, new relationship. (Author’s Note: Has any force in nature killed more blogs than that little trifecta right there? I think not.) New friends, an unlimited supply of trails to hike and places to shop, and a recent 15-hour a week swing dance addiction (on weeks when I’m exercising restraint, that is.) I’ve been busy and I’ve been happy; I guess you could say those are my reasons.

But excuses?

Well, I really don’t want to go there. You see, one of the things I’ve always liked best about blogging is its relative freedom from rules, obligations and accountability (evil flag button notwithstanding). So while I’m not about to make excuses – or too many promises – I will say that I miss my little corner of the internet. For me, writing is a creative outlet and it makes me happy; it took me a long time to figure this out and I have no intention of giving it up. I think I just need to adjust to some of the “newness” in my life and find a way to fit everything in.

And until that happens, I will do the best I can. (I guess, technically, that's a promise.) In the meantime, please feel free to continue chatting amongst yourselves for entertainment. Just keep it clean; my mother reads this.

If you're going to deceive, at least be honest about it

2006-07-11T22:18:00.000-04:00

Overheard at the cart that sells counterfeit Prada bags in front of my office building:

Customer: "Hey man, do you sell fake watches, too?"

Cart Guy: "Watches? No, just fake bags. There's a Rolex guy three blocks up, though."

Huh. I mean, sure; it's no big secret that these things are fake. I was just surprised to hear him admit to it so openly.

And on a completely different note: Late this afternoon, I found out that something I wrote for work is getting picked up in a press release. Not a huge deal, but I worked my butt off writing this thing, so it's kind of exciting to think that someone other than my boss might actually read it. (And yes; keeping the sarcasm out took a conscious effort and a lot of self-control.)

Stoopid is as stoopid does

2006-07-05T17:13:00.000-04:00

I never really got the meaning of that quote - let alone how it was supposed to enhance Forrest's self esteem - but now I kind of understand.

Last night, despite her lack of opposable thumbs, Oh Brilliant One unplugged my alarm clock. That's right - out of the 417 things that overload the electrical outlets in my apartment, she was able to zero in on this one and unplug it. Thank you, Dylan. And thank you also for leaving my iPod plugged in so it was all charged up for my run this morning … although the spiteful irony of that wasn't lost on me, as waking up at 6:52 made running out of the question.

So my point? Go ahead and call her 'stoopid'; I guarantee she'll somehow get the last laugh.

PS: In an attempt to balance out the recent abundance of cat posts … anyone up for NFL picks this fall? I know it's only July - and I promise to harass people individually once it gets closer - but think about it. I'll even volunteer to handle Tech Support once again, assuming that everyone has figured out how to use their e-mail by now. As anyone who did picks last year knows, it was lots of fun; besides, I also desperately need to redeem myself after March Madness.

And, ahem, some of you do as well.

Just for today, you're allowed to call her 'Stoopid'

2006-07-03T01:49:00.000-04:00

See that innocent face? Ooooh, don't be fooled; that cat has all the attitude of a rebellious teenager. (A rebellious teenager who's just spoiled enough to have her own bathroom.)

As in: "Sure, you go ahead and work your 12 hour days. Whatever. And while you're doing that, I'm just gonna sit here and, like, take every last piece of poop I can find in my litter box and stick it in the drain. And just to make it really hard to clean up, I'm gonna cram a whole bunch of extra litter down there, too."

Ew. Just .... ew. And putting her litter box in the bathtub seemed like such a good idea at the time.

So while I'd planned on writing an actual real post tonight, then going to sleep at a halfway decent hour, I ended up disinfecting the entire bathroom (twice) and writing about cat poop.

A new low, guys; I'm well aware of that. Sorry.

A Mathematical Riddle

2006-06-28T23:44:00.000-04:00

Q: How many U.S. Navy guys does it take to safely back a trailer out of a parking space, without hitting anyone's car in the process?

A: Apparently, more than 3.

Yeah. I came out of work today and found 3 contrite-looking gentlemen in Navy uniforms standing next to my car - which had a nice, shiny, new dent in the back. I know it could have been worse - much worse, since a lot of people wouldn't have stuck around - but getting this fixed will still be a PITA.

And I was having such a good day ....

Rapture

2006-06-26T00:18:00.000-04:00

(Author's Note: This is based on a true story.)

"How do I know which way is East?"

We all stopped eating dinner and stared at my sister as if she'd just asked what color the sky was. See, my family lived at the beach, where any 7-year-old with an IQ above 80 would have learned years ago that the sun rises over the ocean (East) and sets over the bay (West). Sensing the need for redemption, she quickly added: "I mean if I'm not here; if I can't see the ocean. How do I know which way is East?"

My dad launched into a dissertation beginning with "Well, that's a very good question" and ending with something about "a compass", "landmarks" and "one's innate sense of direction"; my sister started to cry.

Turns out that earlier that day, our slightly crazy/extremely Born-Again neighbor had terrorized her with tales of the Rapture. Now I may mess up some details here as I'm not very religious - not to mention that I'm relaying something that was explained to me by a petrified child over 20 years ago - but here goes:

"When the world comes to an end, Jesus will come from the East, but he won't look like Jesus, and Satan will come from the West, but he won't look like Satan. Good people (ie: Saved Christians) will know to follow Jesus, who will lead them to Heaven. Bad people (ie: Sinners) will have no choice but to follow Satan, who will lead them straight to Hell. Everyone else (ie: Unbaptized Heathens, like my family) will become hopelessly confused, thus standing a 50/50 chance of guessing incorrectly, following Satan, and burning in The Hot Place for all of eternity."

Huh. Now that's a pretty harsh punishment for having a crappy sense of direction, don't you think? Which, funny enough, is exactly the message my sister took away from Crazy Neighbor's lecture. Not: "Get yourself saved, little heathen girl" (as I'm fairly sure was the intent), but: "You better make damned sure that, ocean or no ocean, you always know which way is East."

I'd forgotten all about this, until a recent chat about childhood antics revived its memory and raised the following question: "Should there be an Apocalyptic showdown in 2006, what form would Satan take?" Hmmm. That would have to be quite the powerful image: Something that millions of people would turn to in hope of salvation, only to later discover that it was really the Devil incarnate. I had a few ideas, but none were very good; then I read Kelley's post and I had it.

Yes, that's right; the dude would appear as a giant, freaking cell phone.

I should confess that with this particular technology, I was a late adapter; I didn't even have a cell phone until 6 months ago. Why? Because I hated them. I hated their annoying ringtones and the mind-numbing conversations they subjected me to, and how they promised to bring us closer but only succeeded in bringing out our very worst. I hated how they made us louder, ruder, and even more oblivious to the world around us; how they set expectations of 24/7 reachability; and how they robbed us of the simple pleasure of focusing on one thing (or one person) at a time. And most of all, I hated how all of this had become acceptable. 'Cell phones', I would tell anyone who would listen, 'are the Devil'.

And then I got one.

And the Devil got me.

I'm surprised by how quickly I became one of 'Those People', doing all the things I'd once considered loud and rude and oblivious. I started calling my mom as I drove around town running errands, even though I suspected it hurt her feelings to not have my undivided attention. I learned that I could entertain myself in line at Target by texting my friends, instead of by saying hello to the person in line behind me, or - God forbid - enjoying the peace and quiet of my own thoughts. More than once, I'm sure I stopped in an inconvenient place while walking or inadvertantly cut someone off in traffic. In short, when the Devil offered up temptation in the form of a shiny, beeping, TXT-enabled gadget, I fell right into his trap.

So now I'm trying to mend my evil ways; or at least modify them by using technology in a more socially responsible fashion. (Author's Note: This means if I ever call you from the checkout line - or if you catch me walking into a tree while composing a text - please hit me with something.) On the bright side, though: Should 'Apocalypse 2006' actually take place, I think I'll come out okay. I mean, the Devil may have tricked me once; but since he's shown his cards, he doesn't stand a chance of tricking me again.

Unless he chooses to appear as a giant iPod, in which case I'm screwed.

Another One Bites the Dust?

2006-06-23T23:17:00.000-04:00

Yeah, yeah; I know what you guys are thinking: "Little Miss Hiker finally gets a job, only to join the ever-growing ranks of 'People Who Don't Post Anymore'. Well, rest assured that this is not my intent, as I've been doing this for far too long and enjoy it far too much to let a silly little thing like a job get in my way. It's just that after three months of being "between projects", my first week of gainful employment has been a bit of a shock to the old system.

Let me back up a step. I'm enjoying my new job; I'm just freaking exhausted when I get home at night, to the point where I can barely find the energy to watch a dvd, let alone write. If you're wondering what I do, exactly, as 'Project Manager Girl' (aka: 'Chief Cat Herder'), I make order out of chaos. And doing this is not always easy, as Chaos is a tough competitor who doesn't like to go down without a fight. So most nights this week, I've come home feeling that - despite my best efforts - Chaos just kicked Order's ass.

So please be patient as I get used to the new routine, as well as re-acquaint myself with concepts such as the Alarm Clock and the Three Hour Conference Call. And while I'll probably be back on the 'Nights and Weekends Blogging Plan', I won't be going anywhere any time soon.

Except to sleep for the next 12 hours.

To Nancy, if You're Reading This ...

2006-06-19T01:14:00.000-04:00

First of all, I must confess that I know way too much about your life.

Way, way too much; in fact, it's starting to get a bit embarrassing. So in order to preserve what's left of your dignity - not to mention my sanity - may I suggest that you please tell your friends, family, enemies and acquaintences that you've changed your cell phone number?

Starting with these folks:

- Your dad, who misses you.

- Work, so that the next time you fail to show up for a 6 a.m. shift on a Saturday morning, I don't need to hear about it.

- Your drunken friends in Chicago. (Actually, scratch that; they're kind of entertaining. Can't text worth crap, though.)

- Your dentist, because - oh, lucky you! - it's time for your 6-month checkup.

- Whoever the hell you know who lives in Nevada.

- Paranoid Persistent Guy. No clue who he is, but I'm guessing he might be at least partially responsible for the fact that you even have a new cell phone number. He doesn't quite believe me when I tell him I don't know where you are or even who you are, but if he calls one more time, I may tell him to just give up because you've joined a convent. Or like girls now. Or whatever seems funny at the time.

I do believe that's it. And while we're on the subject, I'm happy to report that in the two months I've had this number, you have not received a single call from a telemarketer, a collection agency, or anyone calling collect from prison.

(Oh, and to the lucky person who got my old Toronto cell number? Um, sorry.)

Curiosity May Not Kill the Cat

2006-06-17T00:09:00.000-04:00

In Spanish, there are two different words for 'fish':

Fish that are alive and swimming around are called peces; fish that are dead on a plate, under a slice of cheese on a hamburger bun or wrapped up in a taco are referred to as pescado. To phrase it another way: Pescado is eaten, peces are fed.

Dylan, who no habla español, is therefore unaware of this fundamental difference.

Couple Things ...

2006-06-16T11:44:00.000-04:00

(1) Asking for what you want can be a daunting task, especially when the request has the potential to steer the conversation into uncomfortable waters. But asking and getting? Best feeling in the world.

(2) I got a job!

While I don't generally blog about work, for those of you who've been following I will say this: It's not in higher ed, but it's not programming, either. I'll still be doing IT consulting, but in an area that's become a specialty of mine: Helping turn around projects that have 'issues'. Believe it or not, I love doing this, I'm very excited about the project, and I start on Monday.

So for everyone who's been crossing their fingers for me: Thank you. And yes, you can stop now, before you hurt something.

And now I'm off to enjoy the weekend ....

What Not to Date

2006-06-14T01:37:00.000-04:00

Sunday was a typical Colorado summer day: sunny, bright blue sky, low 90s, single-digit humidity. The kind of day that tricks you into thinking you can spend all morning lying around the pool, then go home and clean the apartment, call Mom and Dad, decide to go rollerblading, look through 5 boxes of stuff in search of wrist guards, get distracted by a couple of CDs that turn up in Box #2 and must be loaded into iTunes now, get dressed, and finally emerge from the apartment at around 3:00 - wearing rollerblades and all associated gear - expecting to find that same sunny, bright blue sky, rather than one that is suddenly black and about to start pouring.

Ah. I'd forgotten that the Typical Colorado Summer Day also includes a violent afternoon thunderstorm. So what began as a well-intentioned plan to spend the afternoon outdoors ended up as a run on the treadmill followed by a trip to the mall. (Author's Note: I think The Hiker might be losing her edge.)

In honor of several interviews this week, I decided to hit Express to look at suits. Now as far as shopping goes, this is perhaps the most boring task in the universe. It means forcing yourself to look through racks and racks of black jackets, skirts and pants on a quest for the right combination in the right size, while trying to avert your eyes from the tempting "fun" clothes that are visible from all angles. Luckily, Carlos the Express Associate was there to help me find what I needed; a task that would have been a whole lot easier if there hadn't been a bored-looking guy leaning against the rack of pants. (Author's Note: Apparently, in some dialects of GuySpeak, "excuse me" translates roughly into "please give me a dirty look and continue standing exactly where you are.")

Oh well. I've shopped under far more adverse conditions, and besides; any minute now, Bored Guy's wife/girlfriend would emerge from the dressing room and drag him off to stand around looking bored somewhere else.

As if on cue, out comes Wife/Girlfriend, holding the world's shortest black skirt. Bored Guy instantly perks up:

"Get it; I like it."

Yeah, of course you do; the thing's like 8 inches long. And Wife/Girlfriend has some doubts:

"You sure? I already have a bunch of black skirts ..."

"I said 'get it'. And as long as we're here, you should try on some of their other stuff, too; these clothes are a lot more flattering than that thing you're wearing now."

Let the show begin. And here I was, thinking that this trip would be boring. But geez, people; this is a high-class establishment; if any of us wanted to witness a prelude to an evening of domestic violence, we would have gone to Wal-Mart.

And to further entertain us, Bored Guy raised the volume and proceeded to clarify: "What you're wearing is too bright, and it's frumpy; it makes you look old. You should throw it out as soon as we get home."

By this point, everyone within earshot was staring at Bored Guy, who apparently liked the attention.

"And ... (here we go, folks) ... it makes your butt look big."

I can't believe she didn't punch him. I can't believe I didn't punch him. And I really can't believe that Carlos didn't take a break from helping me find pants to point out that 'before you start channeling Clinton Kelly, you really should rethink those acid-wash jeans, because they're not doing your butt any favors, Mister'.

And as Wife/Girlfriend stood there looking mortified, Bored Guy told her to "hurry up; I don't have all day to stand around here, you know."

That's right, he had big plans. Things to do, people to see, a couch to sleep on that night, and a short black skirt to dream about because he certainly wouldn't be seeing it anytime soon.

Yee-haw. I can't wait to start dating again.

The 7 Words Every Parent Fears Most

2006-06-09T12:11:00.000-04:00

"Mom, Dad; can I play the trumpet?"

And for people who live in an apartment complex, this fear extends beyond the immediate family to everyone in the building. (And to everyone in the adjacent building, if it's summer and the windows are left open.)

Yes, that's right. A few days ago, the kid downstairs started playing the trumpet. (At least I think it's the trumpet; it may be the sax or the clarinet, as it's a bit difficult to discern at this point.) All I know for sure is that 'Yankee Doodle' must be turning over in his grave right about now, and I'm very glad I have an iPod with headphones.

Must be a catch-22 to be the parent in this situation. I mean, you want your kid to practice, but then again you really, really don't.

"Scope Creep": A Definition

2006-06-06T16:34:00.000-04:00

(Author's Note: While only one electronic gadget was harmed during the writing of this post, my more sensitive readers may find some of the photos disturbing.)

On Saturday morning, Dylan almost electrocuted herself.

The culprit? Curiosity, as they say; or perhaps a rumor in the feline world that speaker wire tastes just like chicken. One thing's for sure, though: It had nothing at all to do with my superior stereo-wiring skills.

Yeah. That's right, Gadget Boys; go ahead and laugh. That's what we're all here for, isn't it? But you have to cut me at least a little bit of slack, because: (1) When I decided to take the back off an end table and use it as an entertainment center, I didn't have nearly this much crap; (2) nor was I a pet owner; (3) the biggest part of that wiring nightmare was caused by the Comcast guy, not by me; and (4) I think I deserve some kind of bonus points for having an iPod and XM radio wired into there somewhere.

So despite it being a beautiful day, I figured maybe I should fix things before Kitty Social Services made an appearance at my door. And since I had to go back there and mess around anyway, this might be the perfect time to buy a dvd player.

Yes, that's right, it's confession time: I have not had a dvd player since early January. Shocked? Don't be. It's just an unfortunate fact of life that when you break up with someone, you lose stuff. Men lose all glassware not ripped off from a bar or stamped with the phrase 'Big Gulp'; women lose dvd players.

So the plan was this: Swing by Target for a dvd player and some extra 'motivation' in the form of 9 hours of televised McDreamy-ness. Return home to rewire the whole thing in time to go running and sit out by the pool in the afternoon, then start a 'Grey's Anatomy'-watching marathon that evening. Expected cash outlay: $70. Expected trips to Target: 1. Expected project completion time: Just under 2 hours.

Anyone in Vegas want to take bets on how that turned out?

Well, the mere fact that I'm writing a post about it might tip you off that it didn't go very well. And since the events themselves weren't pretty, there's no point even trying to make the explanation all nice and literary-sounding. So here's what happened:

- I returned from Target with the dvd player and dvd.

- Took out the dvd player and read the directions. Got to the part about hooking it up to the tv, and consulted the diagram. Apparently, the back of my tv is supposed to have red, white and yellow connectors; it does not.

- Remembered that I'd been warned about this, and might need something called an 'RF Modulator' to fix the problem.

- Back to Target. Found a whole section of RF Modulators (What does that stand for, anyway? That my tv is Real F'ing-old?), all of which promise to 'Make any dvd player work with any tv'. (Author's Note: Actually, this isn't foreshadowing; it really did work.)

- Back home, started to hook up the dvd player and realized that if only it were a half-inch shorter, it might actually fit in my end table/entertainment center.

- *&%! Back to Target to get the entertainment center that I'd seen when I first moved in, but didn't want to carry up 4 flights of stairs on account of it weighing a freaking ton. Got the Target guy to help me load it into my car, but failed in my attempt to convince him to ride home with me and help me carry it up the stairs. (Something about company policy; next time, I'm wearing the mini-skirt.) Brought it home, took the parts out of the box and carried them up myself in three separate trips.

- Assembled said entertainment center, which, thankfully, came with excellent directions and all necessary parts. Congratualted myself for not losing anything as I dragged it up the stairs, but also wondered if it was bad that I had some extra parts left over. (Still wondering about that ...)

- Started moving all my stuff over, which was more difficult than it sounds because it's all wired together, I didn't have any help, and I had a cat with a wire fetish who kept getting underfoot and sticking her nose where it didn't belong.

- Had an unfortunate incident where I was forced to choose between the life of my cat and the life of my cd player. Chose my cat, of course, only to learn the hard way that while cats may in fact have 9 lives, cd players have just 1.

- *&%! *&%! *&%!!!!

- Off to Best Buy to get a new CD player, since I wanted the whole thing set up today because there is no way in hell I am going to do this ever, ever again. (Author's Note: Before I get slammed here ... yes, I realize that dvd players also play CDs. However, my amp is also Real F'ing-old, meaning this was not a viable option.)

- Back home to continue. Got everything set up with only one call to a friend for 'tech support'. (And I'm not even sure if this counts, as said friend was not exactly sober at the time.)

- Took these beautiful 'After' pictures, took a break to go running, and considered getting a bit drunk myself but that would have necessitated yet another freaking trip to Target.

- Total time elapsed: 7.5 hours. Total trips to Target: 3. Total trips to Best Buy: 1. Total cash outlay: Don't even ask. Staying up until 2 am to watch Dr. McDreamy?

- Yeah, you got it.

"Faster, fatass!"

2006-06-01T23:43:00.000-04:00

Perhaps I need to lay off the Apple flavored Kool-Aid for awhile, but is it really so bad if I want a pair of these? I mean, really?

And on a completely unrelated note: I know you're all dying to know who won tonight's Spelling Bee , so I thought I'd save everyone a Google search.

13-year-old Katharine "Kerry" Close won with the word "ursprache" - God, I hope I spelled that correctly - which is German for "the speech of Ur", Ur being an ancient city of Babylonia.

Huh. And here I was all this time thinking Babylonia was an ancient city; tv sure can be detrimental to one's self-esteem.

Actually, I was out and missed the big event, but I did just read that this year it was "broadcast for the first time in high definition with 5.1-channel surround sound". Because, of course, "ursprache" sounds so much less like someone puking when heard through 5.1-channel surround sound.

In The News Today

2006-05-31T17:27:00.000-04:00

Technology - "Um, Dad? If you took away my PSP because it's 'bad for my eyes', then how come you keep playing it?"

Sports - "We're gonna eat a mule!" "We're going to pet a mule." No, seriously; we're going to bet on a mule ... the only question is, which mule? Oh, like it even matters.

Entertainment - Anyone who's out tomorrow night should plan to Tivo this. (And that would be sarcasm. Sarcasm (n), from the Latin sarcasmus or the Greek sarkasmos, "A form of verbal irony, expressing sneering, personal disapproval in the guise of praise." Sarcasm. S-a-r-c-a-s-m, sarcasm.)

The Cat in the Hat Comes Back?

2006-05-30T23:55:00.000-04:00

Some of you know that I'm a music geek.

I blame genetics; I get it from my dad. But while he favors classical and opera - with some 60s folk thrown in from time to time for variety - I'm decidedly less cultured. I like my music to have lyrics, and - more often than not - I like it loud. And while I'm not a big fan of the phrase 'alternative', let's just say I enjoy checking out new bands, usually discovered through some combination of satellite radio, iTunes, and friends who are infinitely cooler than I am.

Then the other night, my sister called. She'd just seen a billboard for Napster, and according to the tagline, "it's back, it's free, and it's completely legal" - or something to that effect. Needless to say, I was excited by the prospect of all those free songs unleashed upon cyberspace, just begging for a comfortable new home on my iPod. I was also skeptical. Napster, after all, was shut down years ago for facilitating the illegal copying of music; a practice which - I'm fairly certain - is still somewhat frowned upon.

So I checked it out.

Turns out it's kind of true: the reincarnated Napster is free, but with a catch. You can listen to each song, in its entirety, for free, up to 5 times. (This is actually really cool, as there are 2 million songs in their database, including some I couldn't find on iTunes.) But it's important to know that "listen" is the operative word here; if you want to keep a song forever - or just want to listen a 6th time - you'll have to buy it. (Songs cost 99 cents, just like almost everyplace else.)

That said, I was still impressed, as most other sites (iTunes included) only provide 30-second clips for free listening. And after giving the Napster site a pretty thorough testing, I found it was an excellent way to check out new music - as well as to listen to tracks I haven't heard since high school.

Also on the list of "Cool Things Napster Does That iTunes Doesn't": It easily generates links that can be added to blogs or web pages. Like this:

The Smiths: Panic

While this is a bit of self-promotion on the part of Napster, I like the feature so much that I've added it to my sidebar. For fellow music geeks, I'll link to a new song each day and will try my best to mix it up ... new, old, mellow, thrashy; kind of like my own music library.

But this is where the coolness ends and the confusion begins, where reading the fine print becomes critical, and where I started to get a bit annoyed.

First, Napster heavily promotes subscriptions. When I read that for $9.95 a month "you can download an unlimited amount of songs to your PC, without having to pay for each track" I think I actually screamed; out loud, and probably multiple times. I envisioned June as a musical/extended/less-beer-infused version of Derek's Free Movie Weekend, when I'd download as many songs as technically possible, add them to my music collection, then cancel my subscription. But luckily, before subscribing, I read the fine print:

"Keep the music you downloaded for as long as you want to be a subscriber."

Well, crap; seems they're on to me. Once you cancel your subscription, the music you "downloaded" is no longer available to you. Which got me thinking: Download doesn't really mean download here; at least not in the usual way. And if they have the power to take my songs away once I cancel my subscription, they can probably also track what I do with them while I have them. And sure enough, there's another subscription option for $14.95 a month; this one is required if you want to play your downloaded songs on a "compatible mp3 player" instead of just on your computer.

Huh? What? Is anyone else confused yet?

Oh, and there's another catch: Their songs won't play on an iPod. I'm guessing that, for the millions of iPod users out there, this just might be a deal-breaker.

Which is basically why I'm so annoyed. Yes, all of this information is stated on their site, but you certainly have to dig around for it. And once you find it, it's ambiguous at best, deliberately misleading at worst. Fact is, for most of the world, Napster is synonymous with "download all the music you want and stick it on your iPod or burn it to CD or do whatever the hell you want with it". This isn't how it works anymore, and it seems to me that they're trying to hide this change from potential customers.

After playing around on Napster for much of the long weekend, the main selling point for me is the ability to search their database and listen to entire songs for free; no other site that I've found offers this. But once you go beyond the "free" part and venture into subscription packages and purchasing music, you really need to read that fine print.

Because Napster may be back, and it may be free and legal, but it certainly isn't the same.

Mom, can I please have 39,900 pennies?

2006-05-28T19:49:00.000-04:00

(Author's Note: Someday, I plan to do a study that correlates the advent of blogging with an increase in people taking pictures of really strange things.)

When I was little, if my sister and I behaved ourselves on trips to the grocery store, Mom would give us each a penny for the gumball machine.

Well, times sure have changed. Chalk it up to inflation, technology, marketing wizardry or some combination of these forces, but grocery-store-meltdown-prevention may have become considerably more expensive. Last week, my friendly neighborhood Safeway removed its quaint, old gumball machine and replaced it with a version for the new milennium.

One that sells iPods.

Yes, you read that correctly. iPods. Out of a vending machine. In the grocery store, right between the one for Pepsi and the one that takes your pennies and converts them into real money. And this thing doesn't just sell Shuffles and accessories, either; oh no, you can get a 60-gig, 15,000 song, $399 freaking video iPod, too.

And yes: First time I see a grown man having a meltdown in front of the iPod machine, photographic evidence will be collected.

Geeks and Freaks

2006-05-24T23:24:00.000-04:00

I am well aware that geeks love their gadgets. I even know that for some - generally devotees of the 'Cult of Apple' - the box is considered to be nearly as cool as the thingy contained within.

What I didn't know? That for some people, the 'unboxing ritual' is so thrilling that they like to watch it over and over again. (Author's Note: You know, this might explain the guy I caught looking through my window last weekend when I was hooking up my satellite radio. I thought it was because I was wearing shorts at the time; guess I shouldn't flatter myself.) And lucky for them, there's now an entire website dedicated to showing pictures of phones, iPods, BlackBerrys and other gizmos - all in varying stages of being ... that's right ... unboxed.

Why? For your viewing pleasure, of course. Or for someone's viewing pleasure.

This is, after all, the internet.

I Think I Need to Move Again

2006-05-23T18:55:00.000-04:00

I caught this on the news tonight, and it raised some interesting questions ...

It's no secret that voter turnout during US elections isn't exactly a source of national pride. (Author's Note: Personally, if I hear that 'Americal Idol' stat one more time, I will scream; to avoid being a hypocrite, I'll refrain from quoting it here.) And apparently, Arizona turnout is especially pathetic, with just under 57% of eligible voters casting ballots in the last election. To remedy this, an eye doctor/political activist has come up with the following proposal: Cast your ballot and get a chance to win $1,000,000. (Vote in the primaries, too, and you get two chances.)

If the guy gets enough signatures, this proposal could (somewhat ironically) be voted on this November. Where would the "prize" money come from? Unclaimed Arizona lottery winnings.

Hmmmm. I'm wondering about a couple things:

- Has Dubya heard about this and, if so, has he had an aneurysm yet? I mean, we're out there spreading democracy throughout the world, yet we have to pay our own citizens to vote. This could certainly make for some awkward dinner conversations at international events.

- Now that the 'unclaimed winnings' situation has been broadcast on the nightly news, won't all hell break loose? Think of how that money could be spent on education! Dump it into Social Security! Why do we have toll roads if there's all this money sitting around? My property tax just went up and now we want to pay people to vote when it's a privelege and they should be doing it anyway! Can anyone say 'Pandora's Box'?

- What about, um, "voting irregularities"? You know, dead people casting ballots and all of that? Surely these would increase if people thought they could have 4 chances to win instead of just 1, since 4/however-many-million is infinitely better than 1/however-many-million. (Author's Note: If you're new here, that would be sarcasm.)

- Would this skew voter turnout? I sure think it would, and I'd expect the Republicans to start bitching up a storm about this as soon as it hit the ballot.

Anyway, I found it interesting; interesting enough, in fact, to come up with a proposal of my own. Couldn't we increase election participation simply by allowing voters to cast their ballot via text message? ("To vote for Bush, please send a text containing the phrase 'Dubya' .... ") Hey, why not; it seems to work pretty well for American Idol.

And the jury is still out

2006-05-19T00:49:00.000-04:00

I'm trying to decide if this is sheer, unmitigated brilliance (and a viable option) ... or the tackiest thing to come along since Lee Press-On Nails.

You guys decide.

User Error

2006-05-17T22:42:00.000-04:00

The whole time I lived in Toronto, I used to complain about Canadian tea bags.

"Now what", you might ask, "could possibly be different about a tea bag north of the border?" Well, it's quite simple, actually. Canadian tea bags, unlike their US counterparts, don't have strings. (Author's Note: No, I don't know why. It's just one of those things - like milk in bags vs. in cartons and Crystal Light in packets vs. in tubs - that makes each country unique and special.) And it doesn't sound like a big deal, until the first time you're at work in a meeting and you try to fish a tea bag out of a cup of boiling hot tea with a coffee stirrer, then get it safely into the garbage can without making a mess, burning yourself, or causing some other type of minor-yet-potentially-career-limiting workplace catastrophe.

(Author's Note: In all fairness, some creative soul did attempt to rectify this situation. There was a pair of salad tongs on the counter, designated for tea bag removal purposes. And I'm fairly sure they were never dropped on the floor or used to pick up anything other than a tea bag, and that they were washed at least occasionally.)

Then tonight, I realized that our northern neighbors just might be onto something. See, without the strings and the oh-so-convenient little paper tags, there's no danger of said tags touching the burner of the stove and accidentally catching on fire, as happened to me tonight as I attempted to make a pitcher of iced tea.

Oops.

Update: I've been asked for clarification on 'milk in a bag', so here's a picture. You may also refer to the comments for a more detailed description, including why I found this sight so upsetting.

I Suppose it Could Have Been Worse ...

2006-05-15T21:14:00.000-04:00

He could have, um, cut off her head.

Or the phone could have exploded.

Careful with those gadgets, folks; they're not always your friend.

Oh Give Me a Home

2006-05-14T21:34:00.000-04:00

Like many American cities, Denver is growing like crazy - sprawling out further and further into the suburbs as new housing developments and strip malls crop up almost daily.

The latest is "Anthem", pictured here. Built on the very edge of civilization (165th and Sheridan, if you know the city), it attempts to entice would-be homeowners with beautiful mountain views, a fake lake, and ... here's the best part ... herds of wrought-iron buffalo.

Yes, that's right. Fake, rusty looking buffalo, and lots of 'em. By the clubhouse, behind the homes, around the fake lake, at every entrance to the property. The first time I saw them, I nearly laughed my ass off. Then I went home, got my camera, and drove all the way back up there to take this picture.

See, I have a few issues with the buffalo that perhaps the builders just didn't think of:

(1) They're hideous.

(2) "Anthem" isn't too far from the University of Colorado, the nation's #1 party school of 2004 and home of - coincidentally - the Colorado Buffaloes. As in: Can you say 'pledge task'? Now I don't know how heavy these things are, but I'm guessing that with the proper tools and just enough alcohol, a few frat boys could probably uproot one. (Or two, or three ....)

(3) Last time I checked, our national anthem had nothing to do with buffalo. So unless Dubya changed it to "Home on the Range" while I was up in Canada, I fail to see the connection here.

(4) Where are the deer and the antelope? I mean, if you're going to follow a theme - no matter how misguided that theme may be - there's no sense being half-assed about it.

So let's just say I won't be buying a home in "Anthem" any time soon. Though I may have to take the occasional drive past it once football season is underway, just to make sure the herd hasn't gone extinct.

Corporate Backstabbing Goes Literal

2006-05-11T12:31:00.000-04:00

As anyone who's ever worked in corporate America knows: Sometimes, to get ahead or even just to survive, you need a little extra help. Something to protect you from the the suck-ups, the backstabbers, the incompetent losers with friends in high places.

Something like - according to these folks - a voodoo doll.

Yes, that's right. Visit careervoodoo.com and for $24.95, you too can possess "the ultimate corporate survival tool".

Nice. Would have been even nicer had I known about this two years ago when I really needed it, but better late than never, I suppose. So I checked out their site, and discovered that 'ultimate corporate survival' comes in two versions:

The "Pink Slip" voodoo doll - Can be displayed in your cube to keep yourself off the layoff list.
The "Get That Job" voodoo doll - Makes the job search easy and stress-free.

Huh. All I can really say is ... what the hell kind of crap is this? Now I'm no expert, but these don't sound like voodoo dolls; they sound like good luck charms. Obviously, these people have never worked for a corporation, or they'd be a little more creative and a whole lot more vindictive. Where are the spells and needles - not to mention arms and legs to have a little fun with? And where are all the good ones, like, you know:

The "Slacker With an IQ of 80 Who Somehow Keeps Getting Promoted" voodoo doll
The "Ass-Kisser Who Does No Real Work but Acts Like He's Running for Office" voodoo doll
The "Dude Who Always Finishes the Coffee and Never Makes More" voodoo doll

These would certainly be more helpful, or at least slightly more entertaining. As in:

"Good morning, senior partner, sir. Nice day today, isn't it? And nice tie you're wearing. I think I might stop and get myself one just like it on the way home, after I stay late to finish that report you wanted me to ... Ow! My eye!!!"

I rest my case.

A Graduation Speech, Sort Of

2006-05-09T01:46:00.000-04:00

Today's post is for my friends who graduated last weekend. There's got to be be a point in here somewhere, so I suppose it would be this: "Follow your heart, because it generally knows where it's going; just don't be suprised if it chooses the scenic route." Congrats!!

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

When I was 18, two significant things happened: (1) I fell in love - really, truly in love - for the very first time; and (2) I spent my fair share of time in the university counseling center.

(Author's Note: I should probably state that these two events were completely unrelated.)

While there's only so much that half a semester of counseling can do, there was one unexpected but very nice side effect: I was exposed to a whole new career option. Everyone always assumed I'd become a lawyer - which if you really know me, makes both complete sense and none whatsover - but I was far more intrigued by the PhD. student who listened to me for an hour each week as I pondered the state of my confused, 18 year-old life. If these sessions clarified anything, it was that I wanted to do what she was doing. Pre couch-time, I'd been some version of 'Undeclared/pre-Law/kind of thinking about Spanish'; post couch-time, I was a Psych major.

Three years later I was 21, living with First Love and trying to turn my Psych degree into a job that didn't involve wearing a nametag or folding sweaters. First Love, however, faced no such challenge; he was a software developer, had a well-paying job he enjoyed and many friends in the same situation. "Hmmm...maybe I could do that?" I said one day, both out loud and within earshot of First Love, who had a good laugh and then proceeded to impart the following wisdom: "To be good at this, you have to love it. You have to want to get up on a Saturday morning and sit at your computer and write code, just for fun. Otherwise, you might be able to do it (fairly sure there was more laughter here), but you'll never really be good at it."

Shortly after that conversation, First Love and I broke up (Author's Note: Once again, folks - two events, completely unrelated) and I started graduate school. Got a Master's degree in Counseling and moved out to Colorado with - is it bad form to call him Second Love? - and eventually got a job .... as a software developer.

Yes, I know: Why and how? Well, university counseling jobs are hard to find, I had student loans and expensive hobbies, there was an apparent shortage of software developers in Denver circa 1997, a good opportunity came along, I tend to jump all over good opportunities, one thing led to another and voila; I was reborn a Software Developer. And I was pretty good at it, too. Logical, analytical, disciplined, and with just enough creativity and irreverance to come up with some completely 'thinking outside the box' solutions. (9 times out of 10, they even worked.)

I've been doing this for almost 9 years now, and I have no regrets. So for those of you keeping score at home, I guess you could say I proved First Love wrong.

(Author's Note: Those of you who are bitter/cynical about all things first love-related should stop reading now and go congratulate me in the comments; everyone else, prepare for the plot twist.)

But now it's payback time, because it turns out First Love was right about something, too. To be really good at this - not just pretty good, but really good - you do have to love it. I've had the pleasure of working with people in this category, and to witness talent combined with passion is a wonderful thing. I like to think I was one of those people for awhile, but I've realized that I no longer am. I just don't love it anymore.

I've also realized there are other things I'm passionate about that I'd rather be doing. And funny enough, it's the same list of things I was passionate about at 18, when I was writing papers on the symbolism in 'Don Quijote' and seeking advice from a PhD. student about that confusing thing called growing up. Things like writing, discussing ideas, figuring out the mysteries of life and what to do with it, and enjoying the sense of community and identity of life on a college campus.

So I've decided to leave IT and look for a university counseling job. It might take some time (these jobs are still hard to find) and I may need to fall back on IT contract work while I'm looking, but this is the plan. I've already created a de-geek-ified version of my resume, written one kick-ass cover letter and applied for positions at several schools, so please wish me luck.

Sometimes first loves don't work out. Maybe it's bad timing, or not being ready to settle down when there's a whole big world out there, ready to explore. Or maybe it's that at 18, despite thinking we know ourselves and what it is that we're looking for, we're just flat-out wrong.

But then again, sometimes we're exactly right.

Ice cubes, yakking, and other fun party games

2006-05-07T19:38:00.000-04:00

Last week, after a lengthy email exchange about the trials and tribulations of, um, throwing up, I had a whole bunch of interesting links in my inbox. Gmail does this, remember? Provides links to articles on topics it considers relevant; in this case, toilets, tips for cleaning the bathroom, and - still don't completely get this one, although I found it funny - George W. Bush humor.

(Author's Note: In case you're wondering why everyone's been talking about yarfing lately - it's not everyone, it's one person; he just seems to have taken a multi-media approach.)

Well, I was bored. So I started clicking around, and after learning everything I could possibly hope to learn about toilets (Did you know there's such a thing as a 'high efficiency' toilet, and that it retails for $250?) it finally happened. I crossed over into the topic that's launched 1,000 blog posts .... Urinal Education.

Where I read the following:

"Some establishments, often bars, pubs or nightclubs, fill their urinals with ice cubes during peak hours. As the ice melts it serves to slowly flush the urinal, and also cools the urine to prevent smells from rising during use. The ice may also provide entertainment to patrons as they urinate."

Whoa. Are you freaking kidding me? Just when I thought I'd experienced every mysterious behavior you guys could possibly hit me with, I come across this. Ice + Peeing = Entertainment. I mean, what do you do, try to melt it? Sandblast it out of there and onto the floor, going for distance? Move the little cubes around to spell your name? And this would have to be a solo event, right, as any type of race or competition would violate all rules against talking, looking, and God knows what else. (See? I learned; blogging is nothing if not educational.) And if it isn't a competition, then how on earth could it possibly be entertaining?

Someone please enlighten me.

Or at least tell me if I'm putting way too much effort into things when I host parties. Instead of worrying about food, alcohol, music and coming up with an interesting guest list - all in the name of, that's right, entertainment - couldn't I just dump a few bags of ice in the toilet and be done with it?

(Author's Note: Yes, it's official; this blog has now sunk to a new, all-time low. I will attempt to redeem myself later with a graduation post, in honor of my friends who earned their degrees this weekend.)

Tabula Rasa

2006-05-06T23:54:00.000-04:00

(Alternate Title: "Why I Haven't Felt Like Posting Lately, and How This One Sappy yet Depressing Post is Supposed to Fix All That".)

In the little over a year that I've had this blog, I've never gone two weeks without posting.

Never even came close. With 235 posts to date, I think I've held up my end of this crazy little internet bargain, and that - for once in my free-spirited, capricious life - I started something and stuck with it for a respectable length of time. Through vacations, work deadlines, the end of an eight-year relationship and the resulting international move, I've always been inspired to write. And not out of obligation, or fear of harassment from my loyal/adoring/insanely-bored-at-work readers; but because I've wanted to.

But lately, I haven't wanted to.

This 'not wanting to' started weeks ago, actually, for the happiest of reasons. I was excited about an upcoming vacation - a trip to meet friends who I "met" through this blog and got to know over the better part of the past year. As I got into full vacation-prep mode, I neglected not only my blog, but also many other things that I should have been focusing on, in favor of working on my tan, shopping for summer clothes, and just thinking about the fun times that were ahead.

Now based on past experiences with 'Post Vacation Letdown Syndrome' (Is there such a thing, I mean, clinically? Because there really ought to be), I knew it would be a whole lot easier to come back if I had something really good to come back to. I knew I should have been setting up interviews and contacting old friends to make plans for the week I came home. But knowing is one thing; doing, quite another. And this certainly wouldn't be the first time I failed to put thoughts into action.

So I went on vacation and - as anticipated - had an amazing time. I ate way too much southern food and drank way too much beer; hung out at the beach and got the tour of Savannah; heard Scott play guitar and met the infamous Brody (who, incidentally, I think I miss more than anyone.) I tailgated for the very first time. Ever. (What can I say? I went to a basketball school.) All in all, I spent four and a half days getting to know people who are now my friends for life.

And then I came back.

Back to harsh reality that hit with sufficient force to knock me down, only to stand there mocking me for ignoring it before I left. Back to looking for a job in a field I was educated for but have never worked in. Back to 93 emails from family and friends (some of whom I had seen that morning) who I miss because they don't live here, and from recruiters about positions that were filled while I was away. And most of all, back to the realization that it's going to take a whole lot of time and effort to create a life even remotely like the one I was lucky enough to borrow for a few days.

Back to feeling, well, not all that good; and even less like writing about it.

Scott, one of my new friends for life, likes to tell me I'm a blank slate. (Tabula rasa, if you want to get all exotic about it.) Someone with no limitations or constraints, just the potential to be anything. I can hear the excitement in his voice every time he says it, like he somehow knows that whatever I manage to come up with will turn out okay. And most of the time, I share his enthusiasm; just not this week.

See, a few months ago, my slate was anything but blank. It was quite full, actually; layer upon layer of words built up in chalk, evidence of eight years of life in a foreign city. In the end, it told a story; and while it wasn't a bad story, it just wasn't the right one. So I tried editing the parts that needed revision, and when all that did was create a big, smeary mess, I hosed the damn thing down.

So now I'm here with my blank slate, the exciting-yet-seemingly-huge task of filling it up, and what seems right now like the world's tiniest little piece of chalk. And that, loyal/adoring/insanely-bored-at-work readers, is my excuse for why I haven't felt like posting lately.

(Author's Note: I almost didn't publish this. I was afraid it was far too revealing and far too depressing to share with, well, anyone. But I've been advised to take more risks with my writing, so here you go. I also thought it might help me feel better, and get me past my writer's block; I think maybe it has.)

Meet Dylan

2006-05-03T14:17:00.000-04:00

She's 7 weeks old and I adopted her on Monday.

Now I realize that adopting a kitten is no excuse for my recent lack of posting; well, at least not compared to things like being banned from cyberspace. But it's the only excuse I have right now, so I'm sticking with it.

A Gadget I Actually Like

2006-04-18T11:35:00.000-04:00

Cost to buy the thing on Ebay: $100

Resulting traffic fine: $50

Not having to wait at a single red light for two wonderful years, coupled with the envy and admiration of impatient people everywhere? Not exactly priceless, but definitely worth it.

The Latest in Internet Crack ...

2006-04-17T09:29:00.000-04:00

I realize this isn't exactly new, but I've managed to avoid it up until now. Why? Because I know how I am, and I knew full well what would happen.

First time you try it, you feel like a huge idiot. Second time, like a slightly smaller idiot. Third time .... pure addiction.

Sudoku = Japanese for "Let's take over the world by killing the productivity of workers everywhere else....one internet crackhead at a time."

Why Do I Keep Missing Out on This?

2006-04-14T01:04:00.000-04:00

I opened a new bank account, what, like two months ago? No free toaster, no belgian waffle breakfast, no fun perks whatsoever. Just the privilege of keeping my money there while earning interest of about 20 points less than what they'll turn around and charge me should I ever carry a balance on my credit card.

So tonight I came home to find this note on my door from another bank, promising me free waffles and free gifts should I choose to make the switch. And while switching banks has a PITA Factor slightly higher than anything I'd choose to do on a Saturday morning, there's one slight catch:

The free gift? An iPod Nano.

Damn. I keep getting screwed by banks offering iPods to, it seems, everyone but me.

I'm also not too happy to learn that customers opening new accounts but failing to meet the $500 minimum required to get an iPod will instead receive a consolation bribe ... a set of binoculars.

Yes, that's right. Handing out free binoculars to an apartment complex full of college guys (who probably like free food but don't have $500 hanging around) is like, well, I'm struggling to come up with the appropriate analogy, but I think I'll be very conscientious about closing my blinds for the next week or so.

The Dog Ate My Tax Return

2006-04-12T00:06:00.000-04:00

Yes, I know.

April 15 is Tax Day. And April 15 is also this Saturday. And no, I haven't filed my US tax return yet. Or my Canadian one either, for that matter.

Why not? Well - since you were kind enough to ask - let me present the following list of excuses, each of which is guaranteed to be valid, impressive, and never before heard by the good folks at the IRS or Revenue Canada.

The Dog Ate My Tax Return ... And 9 equally good reasons why I haven't filed my taxes yet:

(1) I haven't had time because I've been busy keeping my blog up to date. (Author's Note: Yes, that would be sarcasm.)

(2) I haven't had time because I've been busy keeping up with blogs owned by people who feel it necessary to post multiple times per day.

(3) Two words: March Madness.

(4) I owe a crapload of money to Revenue Canada, effectively removing any incentive I might have had to get this done ahead of time.

(5) A recent addiction to text messaging has made my brain incapable of focusing on any task requiring: Real words, math, or more than 45 seconds of intense concentration.

(6) I don't have a printer/copier at home (Author's Note: see Excuse #4), meaning I'll need to make yet another freaking trip to Kinko's before I can send this stuff in.

(7) Someone told me that Canada can't come after me since I don't live there anymore. And that Dubya would kick the ass of whoever runs that country now should things escalate to that point.

(8) "Someone" also told me that Scott would post at least once during the month of March, causing me to reconsider listening to the advice dispatched in #7.

(9) Everything's just more fun if you do it at the last minute.

So I know you guys are a rough crowd, but please be nice to me today. Or at the very least, please refrain from telling me all about what you spent your refund checks on this year.

There's One in Every Group

2006-04-11T08:09:00.000-04:00

Well, well, well ... it looks like Tinky Winky is in trouble again.

Only this time, it's not for being purple and carrying a purse. No, it seems that now he's armed and dangerous.

Huh. I always just assumed he kept a lip balm and maybe some hand lotion in there. Who knew?

Derailed

2006-04-10T10:02:00.000-04:00

That's 'Derailer', my favorite ski run in the entire world.

Back in January, I had a lofty goal: Be able to ski Derailer top to bottom without resting, with grace and style vs. just barely getting down the thing, by the end of the Winter Park/Mary Jane ski season.

Well, the end of the season is next weekend. And while I can usually ski down without falling prey to death or public humiliation, anything about 'grace and style' might be a bit of a stretch.

Why? Let's just say some stuff has happened and I haven't been skiing since early February. First, there was the permament move back to Colorado. Then, getting approved for health insurance took longer than anticipated, so skiing didn't seem like a particularly bright idea. By the time this was sorted out, it was March and my season pass was blacked out for the entire month because of Spring Break.

So now it's April. And much as I'd love to go up for the closing weekend, get some sun and give Derailer one last try, now I have an ankle injury. Just putting my ski boots on hurts like hell (I tried it last night, just to see), meaning that any actual skiing is pretty much out of the question.

So unless I completely recover in the next five days, I think I'm done.

Go Crazy, Folks

2006-04-06T09:42:00.000-04:00

I just realized I haven't done a political post in awhile - mostly because they require a lot of time, effort and research. But just as I was wondering what old Dubya was up to these days, my sister sent me this link.

You can dress him up, dress him down, add tattoos and funky hair, or make him talk or drink a beer. (You can even dress him up as "Super W".) Just think of him as your own little Mr. Potato Head ... who happens to be running the country.

So there you go - the easiest political post I've ever written, and probably the most likely to kill productivity for awhile.

And Today's Word Is: "Anti-Climatic"

2006-04-03T07:46:00.000-04:00

With all due respect to Florida and UCLA ... is anyone really paying that much attention to who wins tonight's game?

I'm guessing that - with all the upsets and busted brackets this year - many tournament pools are just like ours, in that the winner was decided in the semi- finals.

And on that note, I'd like to congratulate this year's Top Three finishers:

#1) Eddie, who really should do a caption contest for this, with 176 points.
#2) Luke, fantasy sports addict extraordinaire, with 164.
#3) Fellow Duke fan Tommy, with 154.

I'd also like to take a pre-emptive strike and say that yes, my lovely and talented co-host Derek beat me by 16 points. But that's ok. I'll give him this victory and sleep well tonight, knowing that I won't have to listen to him say: "Last year, when Carolina won...." any freaking more.

Think Globally, Act Locally?

2006-03-31T10:57:00.000-05:00

In other words: If you're going to drive around with a "Respect Life" license plate on your mini van, then you may want to refrain from almost running me over when I'm in the crosswalk. Or, at the very least, from yelling and flipping me off because you think you have the right of way when, in fact, you don't.

Because otherwise, it's far too ironic.

That's all I'm saying.

Two Out of Three Ain't Bad

2006-03-27T09:42:00.000-05:00

O out of 4? Well, that's slightly pathetic.

Yet exactly where I am with my Final Four picks after this weekend - although it seems that I'm not the only one. (Don't worry; I won't name names.) Funny enough, out of 13 of us, no one has managed to pick a champion who's still in the game - which I like to think has more to do with this year's tournament than with any of us.

Looks like it will all be decided in the semi-finals.

So ... from my vantage point of No Longer Caring (at least in terms of my own picks), I reviewed the stats and the standings, and it seems we have three contenders for winning this thing:

Tommy: The current leader, with 154 points. In order to keep this lead, he needs to sit tight and hope Florida and UCLA both lose next weekend.

Eddie: Currently in 2nd with 144 points, will win it all if Florida beats George Mason.

Luke: Currently in 4th with 142 points, will win it if UCLA beats LSU and Florida loses to George Mason.

So there you go. If anyone else in the land of No Longer Caring feels like betting on something, well, bet on which one of these guys you think is gonna take it.

Good luck everyone, and thanks for playing.

Not-So-Sweet Sixteen

2006-03-23T22:08:00.000-05:00

Like it even matters what I say today.

I could write a brilliant dissertation on the flaws of Freudian psychoanalytic theory or post a blank page and it would all be the same - a mere vehicle for comments about tonight's big news:

Duke lost in the Sweet 16 - for the second consecutive year. Didn't even live long enough to get the chance to possibly be Pittsnoggled. My bracket is busted beyond repair. JJ sucked, and - ever the sensitive poet - I swear it looked like he was crying at the end. On national tv. And Derek can sleep well tonight, knowing that whoever wins, it won't be Duke.

Damn.

And now I'm desperately searching for the silver lining in this little black rain cloud, and - wait - I think I've found it. I don't have to care anymore! I can have a stress-free weekend, get outside and enjoy the beautiful weather, and start hosting this party like an impartial observer. And that's kind of nice.

Yeah, nice.

Um, and if you believe that great big load of crap, well, then I have a 'dating tips' book I'd like to sell you. No, it's not nice at all; it sucks, I'm pissed, I wanted Duke to win, and I don't want to be toast!!!

So give me a day or so to adjust, ok?

Caveat Emptor ....

2006-03-21T23:08:00.000-05:00

A few months ago, I switched to gmail.

In case you haven't used it, it's a very cool email system with a dirty little secret: it spies on you. Yes, that's right; it reads your email, keeps track of what you talk about, and then - like a nosy but well-meaning older relative - uses this information against you under the guise of 'being helpful'.

How? By providing links to all kinds of websites that it thinks, based on the content of your email, you should check out - for your own good, of course.

So today, it seems gmail thinks I'd be interested in: Finding an apartment, improving my resume, drinking fine imported beer (thank you, Derek) and reading lots of dating self-help books.

Well, there you go. That same sort of brutal honesty you get from Aunt Ginnie when she gives you a scale for Christmas because she 'just can't help but notice that your jeans are getting a little tight, honey'. Thank you, gmail! Now I can't exactly say that I agree with this assigned reading list, but since the gmail guys are multi-millionaire genuises and at the moment I'm single, unemployed and living in temporary corporate housing, maybe I should give it a chance.

So in the name of open-minded scientific research - and with my priorities clearly in order - I started off with the dating self-help books. My mission? To scour cyberspace for information that is helpful, useful and/or funny as hell, and share it with my readers. And since this blog strives to be an equal opportunity entertainer, I read - and will share - information from books written for both women and men.

After about an hour of exhaustive research (plus 15 minutes when I had to take a break from said research due to a fit of laughing my ass off) here's what I learned:

Any moron can write a book; any moron with an internet connection can also sell it online.
How our species has not yet reached extinction is a mystery on par with the construction of Stonehenge.
When it comes to writing dating self-help books, the conventional rules of grammar do not apply.
All "Dating Tips for Men" can be summarized as: "How to score with a woman, preferably on the first date."
All "Dating Tips for Women" can be summarized as: "How to identify and avoid guys who just shelled out $39.97 for "Dating Tips for Men".

So that's the Cliffs Notes version. However, I know you guys and I know you want details; I'm a bit ashamed to admit that I did, too. But there's a problem: the only way to get the details is to buy the freakin' books, and that crosses way over the line of how far I'm willing to go in the name of entertainment. I do have standards, you know.

But it turns out they're not high enough to keep me from signing up on line to receive the free sales pitches. (For the purposes of today's experiment, I'm Brandi at RabidHoopsFans@gmail.com)

So if you're a guy with $39.97 left on your gold card, check out "The Alpha Male System" (I'd link to it, but it's dirty and I don't want to get flagged), which promises to teach:

9 silent techniques that ‘magnetically’ get a girl to like you (WARNING: you must agree to use these for legal/moral purposes only). Page 42
6 behaviors you’re probably doing right now that make women want to treat you like crap and lead you on. Page 31
How you accidentally kill the attraction women naturally feel for you (99% of guys do it – here’s how to reverse it in under 7 seconds flat) Page 19

And for the girls, there's "Catch Him and Keep Him", written by Christian Carter in a valiant effort to "design and create a book that ANY woman could easily understand."

He tells all us women, even the stupid ones:

What goes on inside a man's mind... and how attraction works for him.
How to "cheat-proof" your relationship... and why he might be tempted.
The ten fatal mistakes to avoid that most women make with men.

So there you have it: Far too much information about my personal life, the pros and cons of gmail, a foreign-language warning about buying crap off the internet, a little humor (hopefully) and two fine book reviews - all in a single post.

A Quick Break From the Madness

2006-03-20T14:50:00.000-05:00

I used to think that when it came to making decisions, I was fearless.

Not reckless, but fearless, as I believe there's a big difference. Being reckless means throwing caution to the wind and acting without doing your homework first. (Author's Note: Some of my basketball picks? Um, reckless.) But being fearless? That means taking a calculated risk, having a backup plan, going through the logical exercise of weighing the pros and cons but in the end, going with your gut with no second-guessing allowed. Being fearless means placing enough trust in the universe to move to a foreign country in order to seize an opportunity, and placing even more trust in one's self to know when it's time to come home. It means walking away from something that is known and stable but deep down inside just not right, in order to take a chance at finding something that is. To me, being reckless means following a whim; being fearless means following your heart.

So that's 'fearless'; I don't think I need to define 'used to'.

Two years ago, I left the politics and ass-kissing of the corporate world to become a freelance consultant. I wanted independence and variety, and I thought I had the right combination of technical and people skills to be really good at it.

Except for one thing: I wasn't. I mean, as far as consultants go, I certainly wasn't the worst one out there, but I know I wasn't living up to my full potential, either. I always tried my best, but honestly, there was a lot going through my head at the time and I didn't have the focus I needed to truly excel. So I always told myself that, someday, the dust would settle and I'd be able to test myself and see what I could truly accomplish.

Well, that's finally happened. And in honor of the occasion, I had an interview last week with my first perspective client in Denver. And? Well, I didn't get the project.

While it was a 5-week project and hardly the end of the world, it did shake me up more than I'd expected. Getting this work would have bought me time, allowing me to get settled and get some of my 'fearlessness' back before having to make an actual decision about what to do next. Besides, after a month of dealing with endless logistical nightmares, I'm tired; I really wanted karma to kick in and let one little thing just magically fall into place. But karma likes to act on her own terms, which I suppose is ok; I'm a resourceful person and I know I can come up with a plan to establish myself here as a consultant and make this thing work ... if I want it badly enough.

But do I? Because there's a catch:

The 'prospective client' approached me about a full-time position. While I don't know all of the details yet, on paper it's a good opportunity. It's with the first company I worked for as a programmer - the company I left to go to Toronto, strangely enough. I was happy there, and going back would be known and stable and comfortable; it would also be a way to feel more connected to a city that - after being away for 7 years - doesn't feel like home anymore. If I decide that I want to go back into the corporate world, this is probably the best possible way for me to do it. And at this point, to turn it down would seem almost ... reckless.

Right now, the whole thing is an academic exercise because I haven't been offered anything, but it's got me thinking: If I'm given this choice, what would I do?

Don't worry, I'm not asking for advice here; I've already gotten a bunch of that, and it's pretty well split between "don't give up everything you've spent two years working for" and "take the job, dumbass."

I'm just hoping that if I have to make this decision, that my 'Spidey Sense' will kick back in, I'll know what's 'right' and I'll be fearless enough to go for it.

Because right now, I'm just confused.

Toast

2006-03-19T18:28:00.000-05:00

Anyone else feel like this today?

Or noticed that a disproportionate number of games seem to be going right down to the wire? Is March Madness secretly sponsored by Advil or Zantac or ... the good folks that bring us Jose Cuervo? I mean, holy crap.

Carolina .... if I didn't hate 'em before, I sure hate 'em now.

Hell sure is feeling a bit icy this morning ...

2006-03-16T10:28:00.000-05:00

1) Duke.
2) Gonzaga.
3) Boston College.
4) Carolina.

Let the games begin.

The PITA Factor

2006-03-15T21:35:00.000-05:00

I've recently discovered something about myself that I'm not too crazy about: I have a very low tolerance for anything I perceive to be a huge pain in the ass. And by 'very low tolerance' I mean I tend to not do it until it reaches the point where putting it off any longer would result in late fees, make me homeless, or get me in serious trouble with at least one government agency.

The thing is, moving from one country to another tends to create a very long list of items that have a high Pain In The Ass (PITA) Factor. And - even better - many of these items are magical in that when I finally get one done, another three pop up to take its place. So I'm trying to be good, to make smaller lists for myself every day and just get the stupid things done already. And it's actually been working - well, sort of. Except for when I get distracted by things like setting up a March Madness pool, or going to the gym, or messing around on the internet, or cleaning the bathroom, or basically anything that's preferable to doing something on The List.

I've also discovered that an item's PITA Factor can be surprisingly deceptive -things that seem easy to cross off (cancelling a cell phone) end up having a much higher score than things that seem more difficult (finding an apartment).

Case in point:

Finding an apartment: "No, I can't give you a pay stub because I'm self-employed, and I can't really give you a rental history either because I lived with my ex in his house for the past 7 years. In town? Oh, no; this was all in a foreign country. But I really will pay my rent on time and you should believe me because I'm cute and sweet and innocent, and if you don't rent me this apartment I'll probably start to cry right now because I'm really, really stressed. What? You will? Cool."

Cancelling a cell phone: (Author's Note: This could probably go in Wikipedia as the definition of 'entrapment') "Hmmm, it sure would be nice if I could do this from the website, but funny enough, that doesn't seem to be an option. So I guess I'll have to go through the 17 menu choices it takes before I get the option to cancel my plan, only to get hung up on when I select it. Three times. But then I get lucky and finally get a person who cancels it for me ... except that two days later, the damn thing is still working."

So tonight, I'm looking at some of the items still on The List so I can pick the ones I want to do tomorrow.

-Get Colorado driver's license (Anticipated PITA Factor: 3 out of 10)

- Register a car purcased in another country (Anticipated PITA Factor: 9.999999 out of 10, based on the fact that I've already gotten screwed by this once.)

- Call my accountant in Toronto, who has questions for me about my taxes but keeps calling my old number despite being instructed numerous times that he should please not do that. (Anticipated PITA Factor: 5 out of 10)

- Find moving company (Anticipated PITA Factor: 1 out of 10. I mean, how hard can this be? Really?)

Then again, maybe I'll just watch the Tournament all day.

Bracket [psych] ology

2006-03-14T08:28:00.000-05:00

I've said this before and I'll say it again: I'm a psychology geek.

(Author's Note: Yes, I know; to a lot of you, I'm just 'Tech Support'. But there's another side in there somewhere if you know where to look for it.)

I also spend a lot of time on the internet - probably way too much time - where I've noticed that there seems to be a personality test for just about everything. So last night when I was picking my Final Four teams, I had an idea: How much can you tell about a person just by looking at their bracket picks?

Hmmmm.....

Do they play it safe or take risks? Go with objectivity or emotion? Pick their alma mater to win it all, or drop them in round two if it seems like the logical thing to do? Spend hours researching stats and agonizing over every game, or whip through the whole thing in 5 minutes based on nothing but gut instinct?

Think about it - it makes sense. In fact, I bet I could predict the middle two letters of someone's Myers Briggs score based on this and this alone. (Author's Note: Don't worry, I'm not saying that I will, just that I could.) Hell, the more I think of it, I could easily turn this into a PhD. dissertation some day. Now how cool would that be?

So just in case anyone would like to analyze me - or at least know which teams I picked and why - I'll be posting my Final Four predictions on Thursday.

Until then, I'll give you a hint: Duke is one of them.

And the Madness Begins .... Now

2006-03-12T20:40:00.000-05:00

WARNING: For the next 23 days, this blog (and probably Derek's, too, assuming he can get over his Shatner fixation) will be completely consumed by all things March Madness. And as any non-sports fan who has ever dated one can tell you: Sometimes it's a lot less painful if you just play along.

So, if you haven't signed up for Blogger Madness and would like to do so, it's not too late.

And if you have signed up, here's a Public Service Announcement from the lovely and talented folks at Tech Support (um, that would be me, the geeky one):

THREE EASY STEPS TO 'BLOGGER MADNESS' SUCCESS:

(1) GET AN INVITE: If you still have not received your invite (it's an email from me with the subject 'Bracket Manager Invitation'), please let us know asap in the comments. (** Update: If your email has a Bulk folder set to automatically delete incoming emails, please turn this off and ask me to resend the invite - having this feature turned on will F things up considerably.)

(2) ACCEPT THE INVITE: If you have received your invite but have not clicked on the link to accept, please get off your ass and do so.

(3) COMPLETE YOUR BRACKET: If you're all set up, you may do this at any time. It's easy: Just select a region, and then click on the name of a team to advance it to the next round. **All picks must be finalized by 11 am eastern on Thursday March 16. (Although the project manager in me would like to add: "Please get them done Wednesday night to avoid any last-minute panic situations. Thank you.")

Questions? Just post a comment or send us an email at RabidHoopsFans@gmail.com (that's "fans", folks, with an "s") and we'll help you out.

Gone Skiing ...

2006-03-08T08:34:00.000-05:00

Well, ok, not really.

See, one of the great ironies of my life right now is that I have a fairly flexible schedule, a season pass at Winter Park, and a health insurance situation that is, shall we say, in a bit of a 'gray area' at the moment. So in terms of skiing, I've effectively been 'benched'.

So what excuse do I have, then, for not writing an actual post today? Well, I have an interview. (Please wish me luck.) Then I have to write a proposal, prepare for another interview, and then - most importantly - figure out which teams are going to help Duke kick Carolina's pale blue ass in the Tournament.

Yes, that's right, you read that correctly - I'm talking trash. It's not that I don't believe in karma or subtlety, or in being 'nice'; it's just so much fun. Besides, yesterday I got to witness firsthand what happens when someone really wants to talk trash but holds it all in, and let me tell you, it wasn't pretty.

So since I'm slacking off today, please take the extra 5 minutes you just gained and sign up for the "Blogger Madness" bracket pool. It's fun, it's free, and it's destined to become the social event of the season. (Rules and related entertainment provided by Derek.)

Don't miss out!

The Morning After

2006-03-05T23:03:00.000-05:00

You know how it is when something bad happens? You wake up the next day feeling fine, only to be hit seconds later with the vague sense that something just isn't quite right in the world. Then, all of a sudden, that realization of "Aww.... crap."

Yeah. Duke lost to Carolina last night. 83 - 76. At home, on Senior Night, after a fair amount of trash talking on my part, in a game that was even more coronory-inducing than the first one, and after losing to Florida State on Wednesday night.

(Did I miss anything in there, Derek? Oh yeah, Redick only hit 5/21 from the field; anything else?)

And now I have to write a freaking post about it.

So where to even start? Well, I'm kind of in the mood for a rant, so I'll pick the one part of the game (other than the final score) that shocked me the most: Dick Vitale said that Duke was maybe, possibly, kind of, could be ... Over. Rated.

(Author's Note: Yes, I know; had I been sitting down at the time, I would have fallen out of my chair in shock. Now please excuse me while I, the Duke grad, tear myself away from worshipping at the 'Altar of Dick Vitale' for just long enough to finish this post. )

Whoa. I mean - unlikeliness of the statement aside - is Duke really over-rated? I say no, but I do admit that they may be over-hyped.

Um, what's the difference? Well, to me a team's 'rating' this late in the season is based on their performance; it is concrete and it is tangible. Coming into this game, Duke was ranked #1 due to their win/loss record, strength of schedule, stats, and whatever other mysterious factors the powers-that-be use to determine these rankings. And I believe it was deserved. I'm also fairly sure that these same factors will be used to knock them down a few notches when this week's polls are released. This - while I'm not happy about it - will also be deserved.

Now let's talk about 'hype'. All smoke and mirrors, this has more to do with a team's perceived potential, and is created by things like marketing, PR, a popular player, or the past success of a program. Or even by - ironically - Dick Vitale watching Duke struggle during the Florida State game yet going on and on (and on) about their 'resiliency'. Building them up, only to turn around and tear them down; this is hype.

Now I'm no Erin Andrews, but I've sweated out enough Duke/Carolina games to know one thing: With these two teams, anything can happen. The end result usually just comes down to who can keep it together for more minutes of the game. And despite Duke's strong start and beautiful comeback at the end, last night that team was Carolina.

Yes, I said it. And yes, it hurt.

But let's talk for a minute about that ending. Duke rallied to cut an 11 point deficit to 3 points with 1:41 to go. (Author's Note: Yeah, they still lost, but was there a Carolina fan out there who wasn't about to have an aneurysm when this happened? I didn't think so.) They could have actually won this thing, and their ability to nearly pull this off speaks volumes to the strength of their rating. The fact that half the world just assumed that they would? That speaks to the extent they've been over-hyped.

So, Dick Vitale, please stop doing that! And as for March Madness? Well, I'll be picking Duke to go all the way - because I think they have the skill to do it, and because I'm nothing if not loyal. So bring it on, baby; bring it on.

Duke vs. Carolina

2006-03-03T06:53:00.000-05:00

Saturday, March 4.
9:00 pm Eastern.
ESPN.
The Rematch.

But first, a question: Technically, is it really a 'rematch' if your team won the first time?

Or is it more of an 'evil trap'? You know, several weeks of being teased and goaded into talking trash and making all sorts of comments you might live to regret if, um, things don't turn out as you had planned? I vote for 'evil trap', and one that - though I certainly haven't been perfect - I've tried my best to avoid.

And it hasn't been easy.

You see, at Duke they teach you to hate Carolina. It's nothing personal, just a key component of the school's educational philosophy: All students shall take calculus, demonstrate proficiency in a foreign language, and apparently, write and publish crappy-ass poetry. And all students shall hate Carolina. (Why? Because they're there. And because they suck; unless you happen to have one of those rude t-shirts that says NC State sucks and Carolina does something else, but I digress.) And failure to do so means failure to graduate; hell, during basketball season, it could even get you expelled - or at least stripped down to your underwear, soaked in beer and dragged through the quad by a bunch of frat guys. (I won't say which frat, but it's the same one that makes the t-shirts.)

You think I'm kidding?

But my point is: This rivalry is long-standing and steeped in tradition. Back in the day, the Carolina game meant pitching a tent in 'Krzyzewskiville', getting by on little sleep and even less studying, and making new friends over beer and pizza. It meant thinking up creative insults to yell at the guys on the free-throw line, and when that got boring, relying on the old stand-bys. It meant running around campus like a bunch of drunken idiots when we won - and sometimes even when we didn't.

(You know, life sure was a whole lot simpler back then.)

And now, it's a rivalry that's fun to continue, complete with creative insults, new friends, and - who knows - maybe even a little beer, pizza and drunken idiocy. (But with no studying and absolutely no sleeping in a god damn freakin' tent.)

But just for old time's sake - and so no one mistakenly thinks I've lost my edge:

"Go to hell, Carolina, go to hell."

(Author's Note: Long after Saturday's game, the madness shall continue as Derek and I co-host the "First Annual Blogger Bracket Pool". Details on how to sign up to fill out your bracket will follow shortly, but right now ... we need a group name, folks!)

¿Cómo se dice 'complete and total lunacy' en Español ?

2006-03-01T23:11:00.000-05:00

First, a few of things ...

1) After spending almost 2 years at the mercy of Canadian immigration, I have a great deal of empathy for people in this type of situation.

2) I don't like to see decisions made on a technicality (one of several reasons why I'm not a lawyer.)

3) This is just F-ing stupid.

To summarize this news story:

Since Cuba is clearly the most evil place on the planet, the US has a fairly liberal immigration policy regarding would-be defectors: Make to US soil, and you're in. Get busted by the Coast Guard at sea, and your ass is on the first boat back to Havana. So 15 Cuban nationals landed on an old bridge in the Florida Keys, which has a piece missing, which means that - technically - it does not connect to US soil. They were sent back to Cuba, much litigation and bad PR ensued, until someone eventually used common sense and overturned the original decision.

And to further summarize my summary:

If these guys had landed on the new bridge 100 yards away from the old bridge (or on the old bridge in 1993, when it was briefly re-connected to US soil so it could be blown up in the movie "True Lies") they would have been in.

Crazy, no?

'Scar a Girl For Life' Day

2006-02-28T00:06:00.000-05:00

It seems that over at Google, February 23 was 'Introduce a Girl To Engineering Day'.

Ok, so we all get the idea: Women are under-represented in science and technology. So what better way to pique an interest and conquer those fears of all things mathematical than inviting a young, innocent girl to see the inner workings of a software development company? Show her around, take her to lunch, pair her up with a 'mentor' for the day (ie: a geek who probably hasn't been this close to an actual female person, well, like, ever.) Sounds like a good idea on the surface, right? Sure, except for one slight little problem .... girls do not want to see the inner workings of a software development company unless it gets a good spring cleaning first.

Trust me.

See, I've worked in the trenches of software development, and it can be a dirty, scary place. (True, I've never had this happen , but that's probably just because I'm not as well-endowed as Erin Andrews. Or because programmers aren't usually as outgoing as that guy. Or maybe a little of each.) Overall, I'd have to say it was a lot like living in a frat house - minus, of course, the cleaning staff and that one really cute basketball player.

Like any work situation, there was the good and the bad. I pretty much got my own bathroom, although it didn't have toilet paper half the time. Whenever a new version of our software shipped, we did tequila shots in the conference room to celebrate. (Don't worry, it was Mezcal, not Cuervo; and as the resident girl, they always tried to make me eat the worm.) We had a big kitchen - complete with Starbucks coffee and the requisite foosball table - used by 50 guys who still lived at home where, apparently, mom cleaned up after them.

There was also the ugly: My male boss once told me - in a room of about 10 people - that the only way I'd ever meet my project deadline was if he and I stayed late that night and created more people to staff the project with. (Author's Note: Yeah, I cleaned up the phrasing a bit on that one. And while I'd love to say that I came up with a witty, sarcastic comeback on the spot, well, I'd be lying.)

So here's my advice to the folks over at Google: If you want to attract more women to the profession, sure, invite them in for the day. But fumigate the place first. Clean the kitchen, wash all of those coffee mugs that have fur growing in them, and pitch the 400 plastic Big Gulp cups that have been piled in the sink since the last all-nighter. Confiscate the swimsuit calendars, or at least ask everyone to please flip them over for the day in honor of the occasion. Ban paintball from the hallways - again, just for the day folks -as well as those annoying laser thingies and anything remote controlled. (Especially if it flies.) Make sure there's toilet paper in the bathrooms; hell, if you really want to impress them, put some tampons in there. And soap, while you're at it. And go ahead and order pizza for lunch, but get more than one freakin' Diet Coke for once, ok?

You see, when you're trying to impress women, it's the little things that make all the difference. So sure, go ahead and introduce a girl to engineering; just don't scare the living hell out of her in the process.

The Gr8 Hypocrisy Deb8

2006-02-25T20:53:00.000-05:00

My old blog profile said something about 'hypocrisy' - not liking it, being most likely to rant about it, something of that nature. I don't remember exactly, but am I ever glad I took that out.

A couple of years ago, I worked as a manager at a dotcom startup. You know, one of those companies that started out with 3 people, went public, grew at an astronomical rate, spent money like crazy and probably isn't around anymore? That's right, one of those; I even have the worthless stock options to prove it. It was a very young company - the average age of my team was probably 24, and that was with one guy in his 40s. For the most part, my guys (yes, they were all guys) still lived at home and went to raves on the weekend; a couple of them needed fake IDs to get in.

And while it was without a doubt the best job I've ever had, it made for an interesting work environment. I chose to let it slide when the guys hung semi-indecent posters of Britney in their cubes, or when they addressed me as 'dude' (as long as it was done with respect and not in front of senior management.) But there was one thing I called them on - the excessive use of 'chatspeak' in business emails.

Now I wasn't trying to be petty or to sound like anyone's mother, but reality was that we worked for a company with a rather short life expectancy. As their manager, I felt some sort of moral obligation to ensure that they'd be employable elsewhere in the future. I mean, let's face it; in most corners of the corporate world, when your boss sends an email asking if you're still on track for this Friday's deadline, 'rotflmao' is not an acceptable response.

(Author's Note: rotflmao = rolling on the floor laughing my ass off. See my point?)

So I singlehandedly fought the crusade against chatspeak for a good 6 months. Everyone knew the rule: for instant messages, I don't care what you write. But if you're sending me an actual email - the kind of thing that often ends up forwarded around to half the company then stapled to the back of a meeting agenda - I want to see real words. Hell, I'd even settle for made-up words, as long as they didn't contain a number in the middle. And despite all the eye-rolling, I was actually successful; or at least more successful than my crusade to keep the F word out of the bug database, but I'll take what I can get.

So there I was, proud of my role in keeping a few hundred "l8r"s out of cyberspace, when it happened ... I discovered text messaging.

Well, let me tell you - there's a good reason for all of these abbreviations. Two good reasons, actually: the 160-character limit, and pure old-fashioned laziness. So now I'm doing it, too, without apology and ready to roll my eyes at anyone who has the nerve to try to make me stop. Which leaves me wondering: Am I a hypocrite, or is it just a question of time and place? I mean, I don't use smiley faces on my blog, but I use them with abandon in my personal email. I don't use the F word in writing, but apparently I use it while speaking a lot more than I ever realized. (Um, to everyone who doesn't feel more comfortable with me because of this - sorry.) So as long as the chatspeak stays off my resume and out of emails to clients, is it really so bad if I use it to send text messages from my cell phone?

I like to think not. And to anyone who used to work for me who is now reading this: Yeah, I know - rotflmao.

Honest vs. Stupid?

2006-02-23T01:31:00.000-05:00

As part of my recent move back to the US, I had to get health insurance. (Canada has nationalized health care, meaning that you pay a crapload in taxes but don't have to worry about finding your own health insurance if you're a self-employed consultant.)

So how exactly does one go about doing this? Well, let me tell you. First, I went online and found a site that does insurance quotes. (I believe it was called: HowToGetLotsOfSpam.com) It worked, though; within ten minutes, the first of 417 insurance salesman called me, we reviewed several policy options, I answered some questions, filled out an application and was quoted a [much lower than anticipated] monthly rate.

Cool. This was almost too good to be true. Actually, forget the "almost", because there was one tiny little step left: The Inquisition. I had to do a 30-minute phone interview consisting of detailed lifestyle/medical questions - which, let me tell you, is lots of fun when done on speaker phone with your mother in the room. So after answering "No" to about 999 questions beginning with: "In the last 10 years, have you ever ....", it happened:

"In the last 10 years, have you ever been diagnosed with or received treatment for ... blah blah blah ... anemia or low iron."

Crap. Ok, so I have low iron; it's common, lots of women have it. I take little green iron pills and am supposed to eat a hamburger from time to time. No big deal, right? So like some kind of paranoid idiot with really big conscience, I do the unthinkable and actually say yes.

Oh, big mistake. Because now I'm informed that, since I answered "Yes" to one of their questions, and - here's the kicker - since my medical records are in Canada and can't be verified they're going to send someone out to my apartment to do a blood test to make sure everything is now ok.

D'oh! I could have just lied and been done with it, rather than subjecting myself to the pain of getting stuck with needles and the risk of getting turned down. But I just couldn't do it. Maybe because I wasn't raised that way, or maybe because my mother was in the room, or maybe because I'm just a big chicken and was afraid of getting caught. Who even knows.

So tomorrow morning, the Vampire Squad is coming. Hopefully, they'll only have to stick me once, it won't hurt too much, I won't look and end up passing out, my iron will be a-ok, and they'll approve me. Because otherwise, I'll just feel stupid.

Say What Now?

2006-02-21T17:45:00.000-05:00

First of all, I'd like to state for the record that I am no grammatical genius.

While I think I do okay most of the time, there is the occasional incident like today's, when I incorrectly referred to a group of challenging people as "pain in the asses" (not "pains in the ass", as Webster's would prefer), leading to the inference, made in public, that I perhaps have multiple rear ends. In case anyone missed the comments, no, I do not - at least I don't think so - although I did become rather paranoid about the whole situation and run for an extra 10 minutes just to make sure.

But does my own lack of perfection take away my right to make fun of other people? No, of course not. My blog - hell, probably half the internet and 90% of all political activity - would cease and desist immediately if this were to become the rule. So keeping this in mind, I've compiled the following mutilations of the English language - all things I've heard, read, and hopefully never uttered myself.

(1) People "exercising their demons". Um, okay. Perhaps this explains some of the even-weirder-than-usual guys I've encountered in the gym as of late? But unless your ghosts and goblins do in fact have multiple rear ends, I think you might mean "exorcise", folks.

(2) "Doing a complete 360". Just think about this for a second. Flash back to high school geometry, or - if you cut that class excessively - to the last time you snowboarded. Or skateboarded. Or drew a circle. Visualize it. See the problem here?

(3) "I seen". No, no, no, no, no. NO! Unless you're being interviewed in your underwear by Fox News while standing next to your pregnant wife/cousin, completely traumatized because your trailer was just decimated by a tornado ... please. "I saw" does the job nicely.

So that's my Top 3, but I'm sure there are a lot more. Please feel free to add them in the comments.

Author's Note: Oh, and for those of you (Scott and Derek) who are now tempted to read this 150 times, run it through the spell checker, and see what writing atrocities you can slam me for in a bitter quest for irony, go for it. I already admitted to my lack of grammatical finesse ... and besides, it might be kind of funny.

A Few Things About Me ...

2006-02-19T16:36:00.000-05:00

I have a Master's degree in psychology but I work in IT. I hate being cold. I felt bad for Sheryl, but was secretly thrilled to hear that Lance is now available. (Is that wrong?) I say I love read, but haven't actually read anything I'll admit to since September. ("The Shadow of the Wind"; it was excellent.) And I'm a music geek.

Not that I'm into symphonies or opera or anything sophisticated like that. No, I'm more into the new stuff; bands I hear on XM radio or find surfing around the internet. You know, the stuff parents tell their teenage kids to turn down before they incur permanent hearing damage? (Author's Note: Yes, I know; I look all sweet and innocent and you might think I'd drive around town in a mini-van, listening to Celine or Shania. But you'd be wrong.)

And thanks to Christmas, my wonderful sister and an iTunes gift certificate, I recently went on a little shopping spree and found some good stuff. Which I thought I'd share, in case anyone is interested.

But first ... has anyone else noticed this? Pick up any CD and listen to track #3. Chances are, it's good. Why is this? Is there some deep-seated psychological thing going on that the music industry has discovered and is milking for all it's worth? (Author's Note: Personally, I don't adhere to this formula when I make mix CDs; I like to open with something big. Perhaps this explains why I still haven't fulfilled my dream of becoming a rock star.)

Anyway, here's my list of recent discoveries. Each one is very different, but all are [at least in my non-mini-van-driving-non-Celine-loving opinion] worth a listen.

(1) Coheed and Cambria, "Good Apollo I'm Burning Star IV, Volume I: From Fear Through the Eyes of Madness"

Geeky title with an even geekier concept, but an amazing CD. In fact, I've given this band so much free press lately that they should either cut me a royalty check or hire me as their publicist. First track I heard was "The Suffering", which is the musical equivalent of crack cocaine and currently #2 on my iTunes Most Played List. The rest of the CD is a lot darker - don't expect a bunch of catchy songs - but if you're looking for something different, musically complex, and if you're at all intrigued by the story aspect, give it a try.

(And yes, they sound like Rush.)

(2) Matt Mays & El Torpedo, "Matt Mays & El Torpedo"

More mainstream and accessible, this one just begs for a sunny day, a convertible, and a winding mountain road. If there is a bad song on this CD, I have not discovered it yet. ("Cocaine Cowgirl", from the Road Trip post, is the first single and coincidentally, Track #3.)

(3) The New Pornographers, "Twin Cinema"

Oh, how to describe these guys? They're from Vancouver, they have this pop/thrash sound going on (think 'The Kinks', who they credit as an influence), they like to mix things up by using different vocalists, and unfortunately, they have a name that could get you in trouble if you spend too much time perusing their website while at work.

(Check out "Use It" - once again, Track #3. Just don't actually watch the video; it's annoying. Very cool, very hyperactive, and currently in one of the playlists I use for running. Also, Derek could go for efficiency by putting this on his intergalactic iPod, as it explicitly references two girls and being wasted.)

So there you have it; musical recommendations from the Princess. (Or from the Hiker, for those of you who like her better.) Enjoy!

Homeward Bound

2006-02-15T13:03:00.000-05:00

Generally, I don't write too much about my personal life on my blog. Sure, sometimes there are things hidden between the lines if you know where to look, but that's about it.

So without going into excruciating detail ... 7 years ago I moved from Denver to Toronto, things didn't work out as expected, and recently I decided to move back. So this week I'm in Toronto dealing with all the things required to move myself, my stuff, my car, and my assets back to the US. After 7 years, this list is quite long. It's a notebook, actually, containing a detailed account of everything I need to accomplish in four days, contact names, phone numbers, and the mountain of documentation and paperwork to go along with it. (I'm a project manager, ok; what else would you expect? I also tend to get flaky and lose/forget things when I get overwhelmed, so I need a little structure.)

And it's worked out rather well ... until today.

This morning, I was on my way to an appointment at the bank, when the post office called. Apparently, in filling out my change of address form yesterday (which costs $75 in Canada, by the way) I forgot to check off one of the boxes, so they needed more information. Then I got to the bank and realized I didn't have the wire transfer instructions (why weren't they in The Notebook? Everything is supposed to be in The Notebook at all times! I am clearly losing my edge here) so I had to go back to the hotel, losing 30 valuable minutes of moving time. Crap. (Author's Note: Never in a million years did I think my vocabulary would ever include the phrase 'wire transfer instructions', as I am not a money launderer or a character in a Grisham novel.)

Anyway, stuff is getting done, the list in The Notebook is getting a lot smaller, and I'm all set to blow this frozen popsicle stand on Friday, if not sooner.

And before I do, I have this to say:

Canada is a wonderful country. With very few exceptions, people have been warm, helpful and welcoming to me during my stay here. Politically, I think they've got it right up here - or at least closer to right than the current US administration. (Which in this case is actually 'left', but you get the idea.) By living here, I've had opportunities to expand my view of the world, see a different perspective on my own country and culture, advance my career, learn a little bit of French (a very little) and meet some wonderful people. And while the winters and the Toronto lifestyle haven't exactly agreed with me, I think I'm probably better off after the experience than I was before it. So to everyone who has been a part of this, thank you.

That said ... am I ever glad to be going home! Splitting one's life between two countries is a lot of extra work at best, stressful to the point of almost inducing a nervous breakdown at worst. It means feeling like you kind of belong in two places, but like you don't completely belong anywhere. It means taking the hassle and bureacracy inherent in everyday life and doubling it -two cell phones, two tax returns, two bank accounts. It means things like wire transfers and importing vehicles and absentee ballots. It means, in a nutshell, a whole lot of things that I know have taken their toll on me and which I won't miss.

So yeah, in couple of days I'll be turning in my Canadian residency card and going home for good. And while I will definitely keep in touch with my Northern friends - and maybe even follow a few of my favorite Canadian bands or watch the occasional CBC broadcast - I'm so glad to be going home.

Internet Quiz ....

2006-02-11T21:40:00.000-05:00

I'm heading for the East Coast tomorrow morning; so is this storm.

Four questions:

1) Will my flight get cancelled?

2) Will Newark International Airport close?

3) What day and time will I finally land in New Jersey?

4) How many other cities will I get routed through before this happens? (*** Extra credit for naming the cities.)

Correct answers will be posted, well, eventually.

Good luck!

Road Trip

2006-02-10T03:03:00.000-05:00

This post is only half of today's Road Trip Extravaganza - be sure to also check out Scott's blog for sordid tales of his trip from Georgia to Reno.

Also, many thanks to Adammmmmm for his excellent - although somewhat labor intensive -suggestion to provide a soundtrack to go with the story. Which I did. But please read first, then listen.

Recently, several people have implied, alluded to, or flat-out stated that the way my mind works sometimes frightens them. While I'm not sure how I feel about this, I can't exactly disagree, since I do tend to make a lot of strange observations about completely random things. And nothing brings out this tendency like spending time alone in a moving vehicle.

About a month ago, I drove - by myself - from Toronto to Boulder, Colorado. Now as far as road trips go, this wasn't about fun or adventure; it was about getting from Point A to Point B as quickly as possible, after one winter storm had gone through and before the next one hit. Overall, this added up to 1,500 miles, 2 days, 2 countries, 6 states, 1 province, 3 time zones, 1 border crossing, and nothing much to do other than look at cornfields, listen to music, and make the following strange observations about completely random things.

Day 1:

(Ontario, 1 hour, 22 minutes) Oh, great. I just barely get in the car when out of nowhere ... total cramps from hell. The travel gods have clearly put a curse on me. Stop at a drugstore and pick up a box of unmentionables, some peanut M&Ms, a bottle of diet Pepsi, and a huge bag of Cool Ranch Doritos. Lament the absence of self-scan checkouts. Peruse the pain-killer aisle for Tylenol 3s - the ones with codeine - which are available without a prescription in Canada. Then remember what happened the last time I took those (or more correctly, don't remember), decide I'd prefer not to wake up tomorrow in Guadalajara by mistake, and settle for Advil.

(US/Canada Border, 3 hours, 57 minutes) No longer in pain and riding a sugar high -which makes me even more nervous about getting drilled by US Customs. Wish I'd listened to my commenters and put more effort into making sure I had the proper documentation, instead of assuming I'd be ok because I'm a US citizen and they have to let me in. Pull up to the booth, and am greeted by a young and good-looking Immigration officer, making me think that the travel gods had perhaps reconsidered. Wish I had put on some makeup that morning or worn something a bit more conducive to getting through Customs quickly, but congratulate myself on the wise decision to keep narcotics out of my vehicle. Present my passport and prepare for the Inquisition, which today consists of: "Citizenship?", "Where do you live?", "Where are you going?" and "Have a nice trip." In other words, I got lucky.

(Illinois, 8 hours, 43 minutes) Start a raging internal debate about which invention is more deserving of a Nobel prize - cruise control or XM radio. Cruise control has a slight edge, until I flip through the FM stations and notice a 60/40 split between country music and people intent on saving my sorry ass from eternal damnation. XM radio it is.

(Iowa, 11 hours, 18 minutes) Can't figure out why every rest stop along I-80 looks like the Wal-Mart parking lot on Christmas Eve, until I notice the sign: "Rest Stop - Next Exit: Facilities, Telephones, Vending Machines, Wireless Internet Access." Wow. That's right, truckers - only in Iowa can you pee, call your wife, grab a Coke, and download some porn - all without ever leaving the highway. Efficient? Sure. Should we really be encouraging even more weirdos to hang around highway rest stops? Probably not.

(Iowa, 12 hours, 52 minutes) Hoped to make it to Des Moines today, but that's another hour and I'm really tired. Decide to stop in Coralville; it has a mall and a Target.

Day 2:

(Iowa, 14 hours, 8 minutes) Am stunned when I pass the sign for a ski area. Wonder if it's built on a pile of corn cobs, kind of like the ski area in Toronto that's built on a landfill . Even so, I damn near consider just stopping here to save myself from another day in the car.

(Nebraska, 15 hours, 36 minutes) Omaha! A city! With hills! I'm not even upset when I hit the tiniest little traffic jam, as it's so good to be back in civilization.

(Nebraska, 17 hours, 9 minutes) Cool. A pickup truck police car.

(Nebraska, 20 hours, 28 minutes) Stop in BFN for gas and to ask how many miles until I'm finally out of this state. (41.) Notice a cute, young couple wearing their college sweats, with a dog and a U-haul, looking at a map and trying to decide if they have enough gas to make it to Boulder from here. Make a snap judment that they must be madly in love and moving out to Colorado together. Make another snap judgment that I hate them. The guy's verdict is that he thinks they have enough gas (not a snowball's chance pulling that U-haul, baby), but that "it will be close."

(Colorado, 21 hours, 2 minutes) Excited to finally cross the Colorado state line; disappointed that it still looks like Nebraska. Wonder how it's possible that something designated as an interstate doesn't have freaking street lights, especially since it's about to cross through 173 miles of uninhabited prairie. Become concerned about what might happen once the sun sets.

(Colorado, 21 hours, 42 minutes) Can't see a gosh darn thing. Get passed by a dude in a pickup truck who's driving like he either knows the road or is too stoned to care. Decide to follow him. Notice the 'Bush/Cheney' bumper sticker on the back of his truck and conclude that he's probably not stoned but is likely to be armed. Decide to follow him a little less closely.

(Colorado, 22 hours, 5 minutes) Learn that nothing bad happens if you hit a tumbleweed, although it's scary as hell if you do it on a dark highway going 85 mph. But the second time, it's kinda fun.

(Outskirts of Denver metropolitan area, 23 hours, 0 minutes) Lights in the distance!

(Interlocken Office Park, 23 hours, 44 minutes) According to the good folks at Mapquest, this is where I exit. Once again, no streetlights. Curse the engineers who so called 'designed' this place for naming every street either some variation of 'Interlocken' (Road, Pkwy, Place, Loop, Blvd., etc.) or a lame technology pun (ie: Disk Drive.) Realize that my tolerance for bithead humor is at an all-time low after two days in the car.

(Security gate of my condo complex, 24 hours, 19 minutes) Prepare for the most stressful part of the trip: Will the access code I've been given actually work, or will I have to stay in a hotel again tonight? Please, please, work. It does! I'm in!

(My Condo, 24 hours, 19.5 minutes) With every good intention of unpacking the car, carry in a 60 pound suitcase, my laptop, and a huge bag of haircare products. (Author's Note: This was back in the days of Hilary Hair.) Nearly pass out due to exhaustion and the lack of oxygen at 5600 feet.

Decide to screw unpacking for the night and go to sleep.

Following this trip, the author slept for 16 hours straight and refused to get back in her car for three days. Horrified at the thought of making that drive ever again, she has decided to stay in Boulder.

And oh yeah, the soundtrack. Actually, I got lazy; I only did one song.

36 Shopping Days until March Madness

2006-02-08T13:55:00.000-05:00

The days are getting longer. The Superbowl is just a memory. Depending on where you live, spring might even be in the air. And all of this can only mean one thing:

It's time to start thinking about March Madness.

Yes, that's right. 18 days and nights of complete and total college basketball preoccupation: The chaos, the upsets, the overtime cliffhangers, the expert (or at least impassioned) commentary, the trash talk and comment wars.

And it's all coming here.

Here, and to Derek's blog, as we prepare to co-host the "First Annual Blogger Bracket Pool". It's quick, it's easy, and it's free; no cash, bragging rights only. But most importantly, it will answer that age-old question of: "What happens when a Duke alum and a hardcore Carolina fan attempt to work together on something?" (As far as I know, that's never been done before.)

So please consider yourselves invited, and start thinking about who might be headed to the Final Four. Don't forget to check back, as more details will follow in the coming weeks.

And the 'Word of the Day' is ...

2006-02-07T23:30:00.000-05:00

Restraint.

re·straint (rĭ-strānt') n.

1. The act of restraining or condition of being restrained.
2. Loss of abridgement or freedom.
3. Control or repression of feelings.
4. Using my blog to provide a vocabulary lesson, instead of to point out that Duke just defeated Carolina, 87-83. In ... Chapel ... freakin' ... Hill.

And what a game! Unbelievable. How I survived those last two minutes without going into cardiac arrest is some sort of medical miracle.

Coming Soon ... The Princess and The Redneck Hit the Highway

2006-02-07T00:03:00.000-05:00

While that title sounds like quite possibly the worst movie ever rejected by Hollywood, it's really just the topic of an upcoming post.

See, it's been about a month now since I made the drive from Toronto to Colorado, so I figured if I'm going to write about it, I better hurry up before I forget what happened. And as it turns out, Scott (of 'Highly Sophisticated Rednecks' fame) has also spent excessive amounts of time in a vehicle, moving from East to West and back again. So we decided to join forces and devote an entire day on both of our blogs to recounting our 'road trip' stories. Kind of like a blog exchange, without the exchange part. Or like a mini-version of beer week, without the drunken escapades. (I'm not linking to that one, as it's better left archived. If you want to read it, you'll have to work for it.)

So when will this happen? Well, if I were Scott I'd say "tomorrow", but I prefer to be mysterious, so I'll just leave it at "Coming Soon."

Please check back ... we promise to entertain.

The Suffering

2006-02-06T00:04:00.000-05:00

Theoretically, running is supposed to be fun. It's supposed to be relaxing, to clear the mind, to release all sorts of endorphins that trick the body
into thinking it's having a good time rather than, well, working its ass off. And I suppose this is true; you just have to get to a certain point with it.

I am not at that point.

No, I'm at a point - after living for six years in a flat city approximately seventeen inches above sea level - where I'm trying to re-acquaint myself with the concept of hills. (See above.) And altitude. And a complete lack of oxygen. And wind off the mountains that, no matter which way you happen to be running, always seems to be blowing in your face.

I'm at a point where it hurts ... bad.

So why am I doing this to myself? Well, there seems to be a law that if you live in Boulder you have to run, and since I don't want to be deported I figured I should at least make an effort to comply. (I'm already on thin ice for not owning a dog.) Then there's the little matter of possibly having to wear a bathing suit in public this spring. But mostly, I like those endorphins and the way they seem to spark my creativity, and I want to get to the point where they're flowing again.

So to keep myself motivated, I came up with this brilliant idea. If I'm still out here in May, I want to run the Bolder Boulder; I've done it before as a walker, and it's the hilliest freaking thing ever. (It's also been designated as an iPod-free zone, which presents an additional challenge; truth be told, probably a bigger challenge than the hills.) But 50,000 people participate and it ends in the stadium, which is pretty cool.

I guess I'm looking for some help here, as I can be a bit of a slacker if left to my own devices. If anyone else has a fitness goal, perhaps we can help each other out? Otherwise, please feel free to harass me ... just on this one thing, not in general.

(And sadly, yes; I did need to specify that last part.)

Parenthood, Post-Y2K

2006-01-31T01:06:00.000-05:00

Used to be that when a couple wanted to test the waters of parenthood, they'd get a pet. A dog, a cat, even a fish; any living being that required care, cooperation, and some level of financial investment to keep it that way would do the trick.

The idea, of course, was this: Manage to keep both the critter and your relationship alive while maintaining an acceptable degree of sanity and - congratulations! - you are hereby cleared for procreation. But fail on any count and you might want to reconsider, lest we see you at Wal-Mart a few years down the road, beating a cartload of screaming kids and arguing with your spouse on the cell phone as you stand in line at the pharmacy waiting to refill your Xanax prescription.

But that was a long time ago, and that kind of thinking went out with 2-digit years and keeping our shoes on at the airport. This is the new milennium and, accordingly, there's a new test:

Get an iPod.

You see, caring for an iPod is a lot like having a pet, or - by extrapolation - having a child. First of all, you have to feed it. (iTunes, by the way, is right up there with football picks in terms of addictive properties. ) And keep it warm and cozy. Oh, and don't forget to budget for unexpected medical costs, since those batteries don't last forever. Add in all the toys - speakers to play it in the house, a gadget to play it in the car, a lanyard, an armband - and it starts getting expensive. And we haven't even gotten to ....

Clothes! Sure, you can always buy the generic cases, but why do that when you can walk into Coach , drop $198, and get one made from python. (Except, of course, in California, where the sale of python is banned and shoppers must settle for the less ostentatious leather version. And yes, there's irony in there somewhere if you know where to look for it.)

But wait. Am I missing something here? Maybe I'm just not ready for the sacrifices of parenthood, but there's no freakin' way that my iPod is going to be better dressed than I am. And I can't help but wonder: Even if someone has this kind of disposable income, what in God's name are they doing with their iPod that it requires designer clothing? Taking it to Cannes? The Academy Awards?

My iPod goes running; that's about it. It has a black neoprene case from Target that protects it from brain damage if I drop it on the sidewalk, or when it falls onto the treadmill at the gym and goes shooting off the end into the wall. (Please don't call Social Services; the second one only happened once.) Now don't get me wrong; I have nothing against decadent purchases, but if I had a few extra $100 hanging around, I'd at least go for something that makes sense.

So what's next? Will Apple start telling us that we have to educate the little things? I sincerely hope not, because - scarily enough - I think people would.

The author currently lives in Boulder, Colorado, with her iPod and two fish.

A Sophisticated Redneck Interlude ... Asked and Answered

2006-01-29T03:30:00.000-05:00

Earlier this week, Scott posed a question on his blog, which I've attempted to paraphrase:

NASA has discovered intelligent life elsewhere in the universe. To communicate with them, we're sending an intergalactic care package consisting of the following icons of our species: rice, a Twinkie, and one million iPods. You have been randomly selected to receive one of the iPods; just load it on up with whatever songs are most meaningful to you. However, please resist the temptation to fill it with total crap, as it will be given to an alien as a representation of you, a resident of planet Earth, and too many crap-filled iPods will make us look like a planet of losers. Oh, and one more thing ... the iPod can only hold 5 songs.

Ok, so I have to pick five songs. Wait. Five songs? Are you freakin' kidding me? Not that I'm unusually complex or anything, but selecting five songs to convey the essence of my being to a brand new life form - and an intelligent one, no less - seems a rather daunting task.

You see, I love music. And truth be told, much of it can probably be classified under the 'total crap' umbrella. (Just to clarify: Not 'total crap' of the soul-less, mass-marketed variety, but of the 'bought from the back of some groupie's truck outside a bar because the band sounded good after a few drinks' variety.) Fun? Sure. Sentimental? In some cases. The kind of thing I want to stick on an iPod and beam into hyperspace as a digital immortalization of myself and my planet? Perhaps not.

So I had to dig fairly deeply into my music library for this one, but here goes:

(1) "Romeo and Juliet" - Dire Straits

This is the first song I ever heard on CD, played on an expensive stereo system through even more expensive speakers. It sounded, in a word, amazing. (Author's Note: If delivered with just the right amount of irony, the line: "Hey babe, want to come up and listen to my CD?" might, in fact, work. Just don't complain when she expects to actually listen to the CD.)

Anyway, this song gave me chills the first time I heard it, and on a good day it still does.

(2) "Life Sized Marilyn Monroe" - Wild Strawberries

Ever since college, I've loved the alternative/indie band scene, and this Toronto group is one of my favorites. Cool, edgy, unique; and besides, I needed a group with a female singer to show these aliens that earthling women can, in fact, rock.

(3) "Rattlesnakes" - Lloyd Cole and the Commotions

Perhaps it's the wannabe-aspiring writer in me, but I'm a sucker for lyrics. The ability to use words to paint a picture and convey an emotion - indirectly, and in a way that hasn't been done a million times before - is a rare gift. To be able to do this, then mix it up with music that echoes the mood and makes people want to listen to it over and over again, well, this completely boggles my mind. And as far as I'm concerned, no one does it better than my man Lloyd.

Besides, this song is just plain cool.

(4) "Original of the Species" - U2

Come on ... you knew there would be at least one.

This is one of the lesser-known tracks on 'How to Dismantle an Atomic Bomb', but one of my favorites. Rumored to be written by The Edge for his baby daughter, it conveys the beauty and power of being - unapologetically - one's self.

"Sugar, come on, show your soul. You've been keeping your love under control." Good stuff.

(5) "Homeward Bound" - Simon and Garfunkel

I grew up in a home filled with classical music, which never appealed to me for two reasons: I thought it was geeky and there were no lyrics. But amidst all the classical albums, there was one that actually had words - S&G's 'Bridge over Troubled Water.' As a young child, I used to lie on the living room floor, put this record on, flip to the lyrics on the back cover and sing along. (Author's Note: After committing "The Boxer" to memory, I went to my dad and asked him what a 'whore' was. His response? 'A not-so-nice word for woman'. How this never bit him in the ass astounds me to this day.)

Although this song isn't on 'Bridge', I selected it because of its universality. While these poor aliens are about to get hit with a lot of very strange music - not to mention the challenge of figuring out what to do with a Twinkie - this song is simple. Wherever we may go in life, whatever dreams we may realize, we all ultimately long for one thing: the peace and comfort of 'home'.

If the alien life form truly is intelligent, this they will understand.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

If you'd like to post your own list of 5 songs, there are a few options:

(1) Put them in the comments here,

(2) Go to Highly Sophisticated Rednecks and put them in the comments there,

(3) Write your own post and link to us,

(4) All of the above.

Have fun.

Faking It

2006-01-27T19:45:00.000-05:00

Well, this is a first - last night, I was accused of having a fake ID. (Actually, this did happen once before when I was 18, but in that case the accusation was correct. This time, I was innocent.)

I was buying a bunch of stuff with my credit card, the cashier asked for ID, and I presented my perfectly legal, perfectly valid driver's license ... from Ontario.

< -- Ontario. It's the orange one.

The resulting conversation - and I use that term loosely - went something like this:

Cashier: "Ontario? Is that a ... state?"

Me: "No, I live in Canada; it's a province."

Cashier: "Oh (clearly relieved); I didn't think it sounded familiar. What are you doing all the way down here, then?"

(Author's Note: Just to clarify ... I can forgive someone who lives in Colorado for not knowing where - or even what - Ontario is, just as I can forgive my friends in Toronto who don't believe me when I tell them that Mexico is part of North America. However - and call me a hardass - I do expect every American over the age of 10 to have all 50 states committed to memory.)

Me: "Well, I'm originally from here, but ... (Am I crazy? Do I want to be here all night?) ... I'm here on vacation."

Cashier: "Cool. (Looks at the driver's license again.) But is this a real ID, because it looks fake."

Great. So it seems that Cashier Girl has a special talent for determining the validity of IDs from states - crap, provinces; now she has me doing it - that she's never even heard of. An 'ID savant', if you will.

Me: "No, it's real."

Cashier:"I better ask my manager. (Calls the manager.) Hey, have you ever heard of, um ... "

Me: "Ontario."

Cashier: "Ontario! It's a state. In Canada."

Me: "Actually, it's a province."

Manager: "Yeah, I've heard of it; I think my parents went up there over the summer. Are you from there?"

Me: "Yes."

Manager: "They speak French up there, right?"

Me (giving up): "Yes. Yes, they do."

Next time, I'm using cash.

Why I Love Self-Scan

2006-01-26T20:57:00.000-05:00

Purchased this afternoon at the Super Wal-Mart: One 'Mary Kate and Ashley' eyeshadow kit, in Cafe au Lait. Say what you want, but it was exactly what I was looking for, it was $2.97, and it goes perfectly with my Hilary Duff hairstyle.

And while the advent of self-scan may have made this obsolete, does anyone else subscribe to the theory that an embarrassing purchase can be made less so by purchasing other items to go along with it? You know - you see that guy in the express line with a box of condoms and nothing else, and it's pretty obvious why he's in the store (not to mention why he's in the express line). But if he also picked up milk, bread, potato chips and a bottle of windshield wiper fluid, the condoms would seem like just another casual purchase. (ie: "Hey, as long as I'm here anyway, I might as well get some of these. They're even on sale.")

Anyway, it's just a theory.

I Attract Weird People

2006-01-25T23:57:00.000-05:00

(Author's Note: This is a true story; I did not make it up.)

Chalk it up to some strange supernatural power, but if there's a weird guy within a 5-mile radius, he will seek me out for the sole purpose of making me as uncomfortable as humanly possible. Now generally, these guys - in addition to being creepy as all hell - are also old, meaning that they came of age in a time long before we had a little thing called 'political correctness'.

This morning I was in the bead store, minding my own business, when the guy that was there to replace a light bulb sauntered over and hit me with this line: "Well hey there, young lady. I just wanted to tell you that I really appreciate a nice, tall woman. What are you - 5' 10?"

Alrighty, well here we go again. In all fairness, it had been awhile since my last weirdo encounter, so I was overdue; I just hope I'm good for at least a couple of months now.

Now to properly set the stage, allow me to clarify a couple of things:

First of all, if you're picturing a rugged mountain man with cowboy boots and a western drawl, please stop and refocus. (Guys like that generally don't frequent bead stores, even in a maintenance capacity. I think it's part of some union agreement.) No, this guy was probably around 70, wearing a blue coverall with a light bulb logo, and in dire need of a shower, a breath mint, and a couple of teeth.

Second of all, he was correct - I am 5'10 and have been since 7th grade, which was extremely uncool and scarred me for life, meaning that I don't like strangers coming up to me and making random comments about my height. I mean, I would never go up to a fat person and say: "Whoa, dude, what are you - around 350?". I fail to see how this is any different, but it happens all the time and bugs the living crap out of me. But I digress.

So at this point, Bead Store Guy already had two strikes against him: He was creepy and he was rude. He was also (yes, this is shocking) a pervert. And in situations like this -where my personal space is invaded by someone I'd just as soon vaporize with a single icy stare - I have to settle for getting revenge through sarcasm. (Once again, shocking.) Of course, I'm far too polite to ever make these comments out loud, but at least I can entertain myself by thinking them.

So the conversation proceeded as follows, with my little sarcastic thoughts in purple.

Bead Store Guy: "Yep, I like tall women. At this point in my life, it's just easier. I'm still ok with the bendin' down, but the gettin' up nearly kills me."
Me: "Uh-huh". Ew. I sincerely hope I misinterpreted that.
Bead Store Guy: "So, is your husband tall?"
Me: "No." But damn, can he use a shotgun. He's out in the car; would you like to meet him?
Bead Store Guy: "Now the thing about me is, I'm lookin' for a woman with some good sense...."
Me: Way too easy - what exactly do you take me for, sir, an amateur? But I'm glad we're finally off the height thing; I was getting bored with that.
Bead Store Guy: "...that way, she can teach me how to keep my wife from findin' out what I'm up to."
Me: That's it, I'm outta here. "That's it, I'm outta here."

Thankfully, at this point the store manager redirected his attention to the burned-out light bulb, and he went into the back room to - God, I can only hope - replace it. She also told me that he hangs around the store all the time and makes the same inappropriate comments, and that it ruins her entire day when a light bulb burns out because it means putting up with another visit.

One would think she could remedy the situation easily enough by one irate phone call to his boss, but that's not my problem. Right now, I just need to find a new bead store.

Only in Boulder

2006-01-24T13:47:00.000-05:00

Last night I was in the checkout line at Target looking at the magazine covers, when I came to a shocking revelation: I have the same hairstyle as Hilary Duff. While it could be worse, this is not exactly the effect I'm going for, since I'm not 16, not a pop star, and - most importantly - not equipped with a team of stylists to follow me around and make it look good. So after being too busy/too lazy/too chicken to get it cut for about three months now, I decided: it's time.

Which presented the following dilemma: How do I find a good hairstylist when I'm new in town? So I called my sister (who used to live here but moved to California) for a recommendation, and got the following information: "Oh yeah, I know someone, and she's amazing. Here's where she works, but I can't remember her name. All I can remember is that she has a dog named Cowboy."

Right. So I'm supposed to call and make an ass out of myself by asking for the person with a dog named Cowboy. As if the receptionist - even if she doesn't think I'm making a prank call and hang up on me - is going to have any clue in the world who I'm talking about. But since the fear of getting my hair cut by an un-vouched for 'stranger' far outweighed the fear of looking like an idiot, I did it. I called, and I asked. The response? "Oh, you mean Kimberly."

Only in Boulder - where dog ownership seems to be a residency requirement - would this ever happen.

I have an appointment next week.

Gadget Overload

2006-01-16T20:52:00.000-05:00

In the past couple of days, my iPod has decided that it no longer likes to remain charged for its usual 8+ hours. Instead, the battery dies after about 30 minutes, which is problematic when you're in the middle of a run and desperately in need of motivation to get your butt up the hill. So last night I spent about 4 hours messing around with it, reformatting its hard drive, and configuring iTunes on my new laptop so I could reload all my music.

If the aforementioned activities sound like an evening's worth of fun and not an exercise in frustration, I'm guessing that you probably have a ... well, that you're a guy. Yes, I realize that is sexist, but I just found scientific evidence that it's also probably correct.

In a psychological study done on infants, babies were shown two pictures: a human face and a mobile. The majority of the girl babies preferred the human face. The boys? They preferred the mobile. (Author's Note: I sure hope a lot of research money wasn't wasted on that study.)

At this point, I'd like to expand the study - for free - by adding my own question: When you read the above paragraph, did you imagine Junior staring intently at stuffed animals hanging in a circle over his crib, or at a cell phone? (A mobile or, you know, a mobile.)

Surprisingly, I pictured the cell phone, and now I'm wondering what this says about me.

Anyone else?

Marketing 101 (According to the Princess)

2006-01-12T18:10:00.000-05:00

Today, I was at the grocery store trying to find a place to park - no small feat, considering I'm not a mother with small children, a senior citizen, pregnant or Employee of the Month. (I did, however, have to pee like crazy - a situation that, apparently, doesn't warrant a special parking space close to the door, although as millions of women can attest to, it actually does. But I digress.)

So just as I began an internal debate about how immoral it would be to fake a pregnancy for the express purpose of scoring VIP parking (What? Like they're going to check?) I came up with a far less diabolical scheme: Just buy a coffee. Yes, that's right, this store took some of the 'good' parking spaces and reserved them for customers purchasing certain items.

Which brings to mind only one question: Why? (Author's Note: Actually, two questions. 'Why?' And 'What genius came up with this?' My money's on whoever vetoed the 'bladder emergency' idea - it just had to be that guy.)

First of all, allow me to point out that this grocery store is in Winter Park, Colorado - a ski town. After skiing here for one week now, I'd be hard pressed to believe that these people with 1% body fat who can ski for 7 hours straight without even breaking a sweat are incapable of carrying a single rotisserie chicken more than 5o feet. As far as I'm concerned, there should be only one sign in this parking lot: "You skied all day at 11,000 feet ... now shut up and walk to your damn SUV."

But seriously, I get that the store is trying to entice customers to shop there by offering 'convenience'; it's just the logic behind who, exactly, they're trying to entice that escapes me. Look at it this way: Let's say I go into the store, stay for maybe 5 minutes, spend $2 on a grande dark roast from the in-store Starbucks, pee, (not necessarily in that order) and emerge from the store carrying one tiny little coffee cup. The reward for my spectacular contribution to the store's profits? Front row parking. But if I'm a snowboarder dude who just dropped a week's pay on beer, pizza, Powerbars and 17 bags of Doritos, I get to haul my purchases to the back of the lot.

Now I'm no marketing professional, but even I can see that when it comes to those proverbial trees, they're barking up the wrong one. Sure, the snowboarder dudes probably decimate the free sample tray in 7.2 seconds flat, and designating spaces as 'Stoner Parking' might alienate what, about 17% of the store's customer base? But logically, it does make sense. They should do it. I would laugh.

Mark my words: Between this and the 'bladder emergency' idea, this store's profits would go through the roof.

You guys worry more than my mother

2006-01-04T19:33:00.000-05:00

But thanks ... I appreciate it.

I got into Denver last night - the drive was boring but otherwise uneventful. (Much like this post.) 24 hours in a car, though, and the mind does tend to wander and notice strange things, so after I tend to a few important details - like skiing tomorrow - I will post something a bit more interesting about the drive.

Until then ... this picture is what Colorado looks like when you drive in from Nebraska. Surprised? Expecting mountains or something? Well, it takes about another 4 hours to get to those. (Author's Note: I didn't take this picture because it was getting dark when I crossed, but I saw the sign. Since I got a digital camera for Christmas - thanks, Mom - I promise to take and post some of my own pictures soon.)

What, 2006 Already?

2006-01-01T20:06:00.000-05:00

This is going to be really, really short ....

Tomorrow morning I leave for Colorado. Yes, that's right, 1557 miles of interstates, cornfields and truck stops between here and the Denver metro area. (Thank God for satellite radio.) But before I go, I just wanted to say a few things:

- Coming soon (from the people who brought you Beer Week): "2005 Year in Review". One very eventful year, three blogs covering it, one promise from Brad that it isn't going to be lame.

- A sincere thank you to the marketing people at Mazda for not lying when they say you can pack a crapload of stuff in a Mazda 3 Sport. (Yes, the marketing people really do say that; it's on their brochures and everything.) It's quite amazing.

- Happy New Year, everyone. Best wishes for a wonderful 2006.

"To be told to F off in English, please press '1' ... "

2005-12-28T19:23:00.000-05:00

This morning, I was going through my calendar to make sure everything is taken care of before I leave the country for three months, and I noticed something: I have a doctor's appointment on January 19. Oops. And it's with a specialist - which in the context of universal health care means there's a long waiting list - so I called right away to reschedule it for some time in the spring. Or at least I tried to. But instead of getting an actual person, or even a voice mail system, I got the following helpful recording.

(Author's Note: To do this justice, imagine the perkiest voice possible, and then double it.)

And I quote:

"Due to the holidays, our office is closed from Friday Dec. 23 until Tuesday Jan 3. Do not leave a message; please call back when we are open. If your call is an emergency, please contact the nearest hospital."

Which made me immediately wonder about a few things:

(1) That's a really long Christmas break; maybe I should become a medical specialist.
(2) Where, exactly, is the nearest hospital? I probably should know things like that.
(3) Does this constitute an acceptable level of customer service these days? And if so, as a consultant, can I get away with a similar message on my cell phone?

Like this, for example:

"Due to the fact that I'm skiing today, I cannot take your call. Do not leave a message; please call back tomorrow when I'm working. If your call is an emergency, well I do believe you're SOL."

Somehow I doubt it. But then again, they're just a doctor's office; it's not like they're supporting critical software applications or anything.

A Christmas Story

2005-12-24T00:44:00.000-05:00

"Do you really think it is weakness that yields to temptation? I tell you that there are terrible temptations which require strength - strength and courage - to yield to." - Oscar Wilde

I don't believe in fate.

I don't believe in destiny, that everything happens for a reason, or that a higher power has a master plan laid out for each of us that we should strive to understand and fulfill. Rather, I believe that life and the universe are by nature capricious - in ways that can be wondrous and frustrating, beautiful and tragic - and that ultimately, we're each in charge of navigating our way along this journey. If there is anything that I'd come close to describing as a higher power's master plan, this would be it.

Now before you write me off as a cynic, let me tell you what I do believe in. I believe in a God whose greatest miracle is the astounding resilience of the human spirit. I believe that each of us has everything we need to handle the curves life may throw our way, provided we allow ourselves to trust, to reach out, to open our minds and our hearts, and to let go. I believe in the importance of faith.

At least in theory. In the day-to day practice of life, I admit that I can be a bit of a control freak. While I really do know better, some less evolved part of my brain often tricks me into thinking that as long as I plan well enough, try hard enough, and want it badly enough, I can make it happen. And if I fail? Well, then at the very least I can torture myself by looking at the outcome from every conceivable angle and applying enough logic to it so that, if I can't control it, at least I can understand it. (Hear that? That's the sound of the capricious universe laughing at me and calling me a dumbass.)

See, I had a little master plan of my own: on January 2, I planned on going to Denver for three months to work on a consulting project. But earlier this week some things changed and that project became, shall we say, somewhat less than a sure thing.

Crap. (Author's Note: All things considered, I could probably get away with using the F word here. But since it's Christmas Eve and my mother's birthday, I thought a bit more decorum might be in order.)

So - other than the almost but not quite uncontrollable urge to swear despite not being raised that way - how did I react to this news? Well, if you're currently on medication for panic attacks and are wondering what would happen if you suddenly stopped taking it, please allow me to demonstrate. I mean, how could this be happening? I have a list, for God's sake, a very long and well-organized god damn freaking list of all the things I need to do to make this plan work, and I neatly crossed 'find work' off said list precisely 19 days ago. I also have a lease to a condo and health insurance and a cell phone set up to work in the States and a season ski pass and ... breathe ... do I still go, because if I go without a job it will be risky and look flaky and what if I can't find work once I get there and what if people judge me as being irresponsible and ... breathe ... but if I don't go, then I may still have to find work in Toronto in depressing old January and it's taken me this long to get up the nerve to go in the first place and I really do want to go and if I back out now people might judge me as being a wuss and ... breathe ... is this some sort of sign? Is it fate, which I know I said I don't believe in, but what if I'm wrong? Why ... breathe ... why, why, why is this happening?

(Author's Note: End of simulated panic attack; everyone go refill your prescriptions now.)

Clearly, I needed to calm down, so I grabbed my iPod, switched it into random shuffle mode and went for a run. And that's when I heard it, right there in the very first song - 10 points for correctly identifying the song and artist - "things fall apart, it's scientific."

Now if I believed in signs, this would have been a fairly impressive one. 987 songs on my iPod and I get this one, with its neat little 5-word reminder that sometimes there is no 'why'; at least not one that we can hope to comprehend. Sometimes the laws of nature or the free will of others can override our most careful planning or strongest will, and things just, well, fall apart. It's nothing personal, it's not a sign, it's nothing we can logically explain; it just is. C'est la vie, que sera sera, or - if you insist on getting all cerebral about it - shit happens.

And with a little faith, life goes on.

Sometimes - especially around the holidays - the gap between 'what I really need' and 'what I think I need' can grow quite large. The latest fashions and high-tech gadgets, a perfectly decorated home, the entire extended family present, accounted for and getting along without a single argument or the benefit of tranquilizers. 86 things on a List in a spiral bound notebook, neatly crossed off one by one, creating a future that is comfortable and secure. But what do I really need? That list is surprisingly small: A place to live, enough money to live on, the love and support of friends and family, my passport, and whatever else I can manage to fit in my car.

So yes - project or no project - I'm still going to Denver as planned. Well, ok, maybe not exactly 'as planned', but that's kind of my point.

Merry Christmas, everyone.

(Update: I wrote most of this last night, before hearing the very good news this morning that the project is still mine.)

Some of you better have an alibi ...

2005-12-19T11:33:00.000-05:00

Nothing more to say here, really .... just read it.

Princess' Picks - Week 15

2005-12-16T20:27:00.000-05:00

According to the experts, one sign of addiction is that the behavior in question interferes with normal activities. Hmmmm. A few days ago, I was making plans to go out with a friend this weekend, and he suggested Sunday afternoon. Yeah, ok - as long as our 'plans' consist of sitting around my house obsessively checking scores every 15 minutes, Sunday afternoon works for me. (Author's Note: We're meeting up on Saturday instead.)

And then I found out - this week, there are games on Saturday afternoon, too. A true addict would have known this, right?

Week 15 Picks:

(Sunday Night Commentary: Worst. Week. Ever. I don't know what happened, but I do know that as soon as a few people recover from their hangovers and read this, I'll never hear the end of it. But on the bright side: At least San Francisco lost like they were supposed to - otherwise I might have an angry mob coming after me.)

TAMPA BAY at New England
KANSAS CITY at New York Giants ***
DENVER at Buffalo
San Fran at JACKSONVILLE
ARIZONA at Houston
SEATTLE at Tennessee
San Diego at INDIANAPOLIS
Philadelphia at ST. LOUIS
New York Jets at MIAMI
Pittsburgh at MINNESOTA
CAROLINA at New Orleans
CINCINNATI at Detroit
Cleveland at OAKLAND
DALLAS at Washington
Atlanta at CHICAGO
Green Bay at BALTIMORE

*** This is a gift to my friends who are Giants fans. I figured there's no way I'm going to call a Chiefs game correctly no matter which way I go, so I might as well be nice about it. Merry Christmas.

The [Other] List

2005-12-12T22:26:00.000-05:00

Just to properly set everyone's expectations ... this post isn't about The List. This means I won't be posting any pictures of Bono or the hot doctor on 'Grey's Anatomy'; at least not today. No, this is about the other list - the list of 86 things (and counting) that I need to somehow get done before I leave for Colorado in January.

What? Not quite as exciting? Yeah, tell me about it.

While I won't put everyone to sleep by posting the list in its entirety, I would like to point out something interesting. Please take a look at some of the things I've accomplished vs. some of the things that remain outstanding, and see if you notice anything.

Things I've accomplished: Find apartment, get new cell phone, buy season ski pass, get digital camera, take skis for pre-season tuning.

Things that remain outstanding: Talk to accountant about what qualifies as a business expense, talk to US Customs & Immigration to make sure I have the proper documentation and I'm not hassled at the border.

So did you notice? Yes, that's right; I have a bad habit of doing the fun things first, and putting off the boring/frustrating/bureaucratic things until later. Or sometimes - since we're being honest here - never getting around to doing them at all. But in this case, some of the boring things are also fairly important, so today I sucked it up and decided to do what those time management experts are always preaching: Tackle the worst one first.

I called US Immigration.

I should say here that despite being a resident of Canada, I'm still a US citizen and am fully entitled to live and work in the US. (I can even vote there - and I do.) So one would assume that I should be able to appear at the border with my car loaded up with three months' worth of clothes, ski equipment, hair care products, CDs, and other such necessities and have no problem whatsover. But in the past, I've made such assumptions and they've bitten me in the ass, so - rather than take the risk of getting hassled 4 hours into a 30 hour drive by an Immigration officer who is cranky about having to work on New Year's - I decided to call ahead.

Now for anyone who has never had to call either US or Canadian Immigration, let me explain how it works. Both agencies seem to have been founded on the principle that there are millions of people out there who are desperate to get into the country, and who will happily jump through whatever hoops are required in order to do so. This includes, but is not limited to, waiting on hold for excessively long periods of time on the Immigration help line.

So I fully expected this. What I didn't expect? Being told immediately that the 1-800# I had dialed - the only number available on their website - does not work outside of the US.

Ok, let's think about this for a moment, shall we? Does it not make sense that the vast majority of callers in need of US Immigration assistance might be calling from, oh let's say, another country? This is like Domino's having a pizza delivery number that only works if dialed from within the store. Or like ... I don't know, something equally stupid. I mean, does anyone else see the irony here, or is it just me?

So now I'm trying to decide what to do:

(1) Send my parents an email describing my exact situation and have them call US Immigration to verify that I'm doing everything properly.

(2) Wing it. And if I get drilled with too many questions at the border about why I'm going to be in the US for three months, just show the dude my ski pass.

The Princess' Picks (with Commentary)

2005-12-10T12:22:00.000-05:00

Last night, I talked to some friends who were in varying stages of inebriation. (Author's Note: If any of you would like to identify yourself and/or your stage, be my guest. Otherwise, don't worry; I'm far too polite to call you out.) Anyway, one of them chastised me because apparently, it's not good enough that my picks were 13/16 for the last two weeks - oh no, it seems I'm also supposed to provide commentary. See, I did not know that. And now I'm much less inclined to quit my job and become a pro NFL picker, as this gig is a lot more work than one might expect.

Week 14 Picks (with Commentary)
Any purple comments were added after the fact.

NEW ENGLAND at Buffalo (NE 35- BUF 7)
I was tempted to go for the upset (but I'm glad I didn't), since Buffalo almost won the past two weeks. But 'almost' is the operative word here, and - as we all learned in the last two Presidential elections - almost winning doesn't exactly count.

CHICAGO at Pittsburgh (PITT 21 - CHI 9)
Just because I felt like it.

Cleveland at CINCINNATI (CIN 23 - CLE 20)
Cool uniforms, cute tiger mascot, and I used to live there. Cincinnati it is.

Tampa Bay at CAROLINA (TB 20 - CAR 10)
This is funny. If you know my college basketball loyalties, you should know that I have a difficult time saying the word 'Carolina' without preceding it with 'Go to hell' or following it with 'sucks'. (And don't start telling me that I'm mean in the comments, as I can't help it; it's almost Pavlovian at this point.) But this is the NFL, and I like Carolina here. (Or at least I used to...that thing about sucking sounds fairly accurate right about now.) Go figure.

INDIANAPOLIS at Jacksonville (IND 26 - JAX 18)
I once bet that Indy would lose, and they didn't. Lesson learned.

Houston at TENNESSEE (TEN 13 - HOU 10)
Interesting bit of trivia: Houston has won 1 game - count it, 1 - all season. It was an upset, and I correctly called it, so I think I'll quit while I'm ahead. (Yeah, I got lucky. I'll take it, though.)

St. Louis at MINNESOTA (MIN 27 - STL 13)
For some inexplicable reason, I seem to do well picking Vikings games. And to reward them for listening to me and winning/losing when I say they're supposed to, I'd love to see them in the Superbowl along with Denver. (Wait. Is that logistically possible? Yes, I just checked and I do believe it is.) The Broncos in the Superbowl would make the ski slopes less crowded on Sundays for a while. And the Vikings in the Superbowl? Well, that might make Brad's head explode, but otherwise it would be pretty cool.

OAKLAND at New York Jets (NYJ 26 - OAK 10)
Nothing really to say here. (Except 'wtf'?)

San Francisco at SEATTLE (SEA 41 - SF 3)
I have to admit: doing math on a Saturday morning is bit painful, but look at this. Philly beat San Fran, 42-3. Then Seattle turned around and beat Philly, 42-0. So isn't there some mathematical principle that says the spread on this should be 81 points? It's only 16. I know I've said before that I don't want to pick against the spread, but in this case I'm tempted. (And I would have been correct.)

NEW YORK GIANTS at Philadelphia (NYG 26 - PHI 23)
Didn't I just pick this game a few weeks ago? Yes, I did - and I was correct, so I'll just be lazy and say the same thing. (Although I don't recall it being this painful last time around ...)

WASHINGTON at Arizona (WAS 17 - ARI 13)
Who knows? Who cares? I'll just go with the favorite here.

Miami at SAN DIEGO (MIA 23 - SD 21)
I just read something interesting about this game. Psychologically, it seems there's some danger that San Diego may be so preoccupied with playing against a possible 15-0 Indy next week, that they lose focus and blow it this week. Interesting? Sure. Logical to pick flaky Miami on the road against a 13 1/2 point spread? Um, no. Did I almost do it anyway? You guys know me far too well. (Damn. Shoulda done it. Logic is highly overrated.)

KANSAS CITY at Dallas (DAL 31 - KC 28)
Here's a secret: I cannot pick a game involving KC to save my life. So if you want to make some quick cash, every week just look at my pick for the KC game, call your bookie and bet on whichever team I didn't pick. (Note to everyone who picked Dallas: It is NOT ok to make fun of me for this game. At some point it will be, but that time is not quite here yet. I'll let you know.)

Baltimore at DENVER (DEN 12 - BAL 10)
I always pick the Broncos - it's a given.

DETROIT at Green Bay (GB 16 - DET 13)
I feel cheated by this match-up, because every week I just pick both of these teams to lose without even thinking about it. Now I have to pick one to win, and it's confusing me. All the stats and the pros seem to favor the cheeseheads, but wait. Didn't Philly - the same team who lost to Seattle last week, 42-0 - beat Green Bay the week before? That can't be good. No, I'm going for the upset. (The only thing about this game that made me happy is that I didn't have to sit outside where it was 14 degrees and watch it ... especially when it went into OT.)

New Orleans at ATLANTA (ATL 36 - NO 17)
Last game, I'm done. Thank God.

My Brilliant Advice for Idiots in the News...

2005-12-06T22:52:00.000-05:00

(#1) In life, it's often helpful to know the difference between cheese and, well, other things. This, and don't do drugs. (Although in all fairness, I don't know if drugs deserve all of the blame here; unparalleled stupidity seems to have also been a factor.)

(#2) If the cops want you to pull over, just pull over, dammit. Especially if you have missile launchers on the back of your stolen vehicle.

(#3) Proofread, proofread, proofread! Not just words, but numbers, too. And if you happen to discover something fun due to someone else's negligence, well, for God's sake, keep it to yourself.

The 'Real' Meaning of Thanksgiving

2005-12-06T17:40:00.000-05:00

I know I've said this before, but just to recap: in Canada, Thanksgiving is in October.

In spirit, the holidays are similar - turkey, pumpkin pie, family, counting your blessings, a holiday that began by celebrating the harvest (which I guess happens earlier up here because it's so freaking cold that all the vegetables would freeze solid if left in the ground until the end of November.) But there's one critical difference: here, the whole tie-in with Christmas is completely missing. The 'Black Friday' insanity, the ads about the doorbuster specials, the official kickoff to the holiday season and the reminder that yes folks, it's time to start your Christmas shopping now.

Yes, I know. Some of you are probably about to go all nostalgic on me and say how nice this must be, this much-needed break from commercialism and materialism that lets everyone focus on the real meaning of the holiday. Sweet as that may be, there's also a downside, and a serious one at that.

As someone who occasionally needs a friendly kick in the ass to get things done, I really miss the shopping reminder. In fact, I miss it every single year - to the point where it gets to be what, December 6, and I realize "hey .... I haven't bought a single Christmas present yet." (Well, ok - I shouldn't exaggerate - I've bought one. One. And since most of these things need to be mailed to the States, that's not very impressive.)

(Author's Note: Yes, there's probably a bit of irony in here somewhere. Why do I, a self-professed shopaholic who once spent close to 3 hours at Target, need a kick in the ass to go Christmas shopping? It boggles my mind as well. I mean, there's probably some deep psychological reason for it, but I sure as hell can't tell you what it is.)

So to my family who reads my blog but has been avoiding my calls because you know what I want: Yes, I realize that you don't like lists and you think I select excellent presents all on my own, but Santa needs a little help this year. No, a lot of help. Please. Just this once, a list isn't going to kill you.

And a plea to everyone else ... if you have any tried-and-true gift suggestions for people who have no clue on this earth what they want (or just don't want to tell me) I would be eternally grateful. I have a brother and a sister and two parents (although I have Brother's gift already.)

I also did the math, and assuming you're ok with hitting the mall on Christmas Eve and don't need to mail anything ... there are 19 shopping days left.

Crap.

Weekly Picks and Other Little Things

2005-12-02T07:15:00.000-05:00

Well, I've finally done it. A few days ago, I got into a trash talking war with someone over NFL picks, which means that this week, I'm feeling some serious pressure. Especially since I started it. Not that there's really anything at stake here - other than pride and bragging rights - but I do like being right, so I take this kind of thing pretty seriously sometimes. So in order to make sure that no one takes my brilliant picks and uses them against me, I'm keeping my predictions a secret for now. They'll be up Sunday morning. (Author's Note: They're up.)

And now on to Other Little Things....

Most of you who've known me for a while know my 'story'. Just to recap: Six years ago, I moved from Denver to Toronto primarily because of a relationship, and I've never fully adjusted to life in the Great White North. So to solve this dilemma, about a year and a half ago I started my own consulting company with the eventual goal of 'going international'. (In less grandiose terms: I do freelance software development and project management, which gives me the option split my time between two cities. That's been the goal, anyway.)

Well, I've finally pulled it off. On January 2, I'm heading back to Colorado for three months. I'll be working three days a week and using the rest of my time to ski, write, get back in touch with old friends, whatever my little heart desires. Yes, I know; life is rough. I realize I've gotten extremely lucky and I'm counting this as an early Christmas gift, but then again ... in a way, I think I've earned it.

Now some of you may see where I'm going with this, especially if you've been there yourself. There should probably be some sort of fill-in-the-blanks template to save us all from having to explain what happens to our blogs when life gets in the way. But since there isn't - at least not that I could find when I was looking for one last night to save myself some work - I'll be the innovator here and create one:

Dear Friends and Loyal Readers,

[insert meaningful and relevant song lyrics here]

Because of [a new job with blocked internet access/a new relationship/time spent on 'more serious' writing/the logistics involved in preparing for a cross-border relocation], things around this blog might change for a little while.

Instead of entertaining you several times a week, I [may not post as often/will still post often but the posts might very well suck/may end up posting 17 times a day because I'm in need of a creative outlet].

This new schedule will last until [the dust settles/I get my shit together/the novelty of working with the Miller Girls finally wears off/I figure out how to hack around and access Blogger from work].

Until then [please be patient with me/impress your boss by spending the extra 5 minutes per day on something productive/entertain yourselves by reading the archives/keep checking back because, well, I'm nothing if not full of surprises].

Since I started my blog back in April, I've learned a few things; one is that I love to write, and another is how much fun this whole crazy blogging thing is. So - other than across an international border, six states and two time zones - I'm not going anywhere. When the dust settles in a few weeks, I'll be back with a vengeance. I'll also have more free time for reading other blogs (sorry, guys - I do miss you!), stories of my drive across the country, and - who knows - the occasional ski picture isn't entirely out of the question.

Until then, I'll be around as much as I can. And if anyone happens to be in Colorado this winter and would like a guided tour or a free ski lesson, well, you know where you can find me.

(* Any harassments for not posting can also be sent to: theprincesshiker@gmail.com)

Week 13 Picks:

TAMPA BAY at New Orleans
DALLAS at New York Giants
Green Bay at CHICAGO
CINCINNATI at Pittsburgh
JACKSONVILLE at Cleveland
MINNESOTA at Detroit
Tennessee at INDIANAPOLIS
Atlanta at CAROLINA
Houston at BALTIMORE
Buffalo at MIAMI
ARIZONA at San Francisco
Washington at ST LOUIS
New York Jets at NEW ENGLAND
DENVER at Kansas City
Oakland at SAN DIEGO
SEATTLE at Philadelphia

Snow Job?

2005-11-26T13:19:00.000-05:00

Yesterday was a very bad day.

In the States, it was that retail frenzy known as 'Black Friday', where normally sane people shop themselves silly and get into actual fights over the last parking space at Wal-Mart. But in Canada, it was 'People Just Suck Day'. Or 'Male People Just Suck Day', or 'Get Drunk Because Male People Just Suck Day'. One of those things, anyway.

But that's not really the point of the story - it's just there for context.

This morning - I think it was still morning - I was sound asleep when someone started ringing the doorbell. Over and over and over again. And pounding on the door. Thinking that something - or someone - was either critically wounded or on fire, I went downstairs to discover that: (a) it had snowed, and (b) there were two kids with shovels at the front door.

Yes!! I hate shoveling snow. And while that usually falls outside my job description, there's one week in January when my boyfriend attends a conference - in Florida, of all places - when it snows every single freaking day without fail. And believe me, there's nothing worse than getting home from work at 7pm and not being able to even get in the driveway because the snowplow went by and created its three-foot Snowpile of Doom at the foot of it. And having to remove this, then shovel the driveway, the walkway, and another one-foot Snowpile, because by the time you're done, the snowplow has gone by again.

Do this five days consecutively, and around day three, you'll see why I'm so cranky. Do this two years consecutively, and if you're smart, you'll come up with an alternate plan.

Mine is this: Early in the season, I assemble a staff of little snow shovelers who will come to the house when I'm at work and make the evil stuff magically disappear. And while there's no labor shortage around here - this neighborhood seems to have a disproportionately high number of teenage boys - at the end of January, most of them are still living off their Christmas money, reducing their incentive to get out there and freeze their asses off. This, for me, is quite unfortunate.

But I was an econ major, so the challenge presents a good opportunity to use some of what I learned in school. Early in the season, I find about three little snow shovelers and pay them well above the going rate, so that when it snows, if they're going to shovel out only one house, they'll fight over who gets to do mine. It works like a charm.

So this morning, I thought I might have found two potential little staffers, but there was a problem: The oldest one was maybe 8 years old. I mean, the last thing I really need right now is to break some child labor law, and besides - do they even know what they're doing? But they were cute, so I opened the door:

Kid (who was very shy, making him even cuter): "Do you want us to shovel your, um, driveway?"

Me: "Well, how much do you guys charge?"

Kid: "A dollar."

Holy crap. A dollar. Either these kids are being exploited without mercy, or they're future corporate raiders who have devised a brilliant scheme to undercut their older brothers, steal all their customers, and show up back here in January charging me fifty bucks.

Me: "A dollar. Has anyone else paid you a dollar to shovel their driveway?"

Kid: "Yes. Lots of people."

Yeah, ok; so there's probably some exploitation going on. Cheap bastards.

Me (about to incur the wrath of my neighbors if they ever find out): "You guys know you can charge more than a dollar, right? People will pay you more than that."

Kid: "Ok. Two dollars?"

Well, I tried. It took them about an hour to shovel two inches of light, fluffy snow - and not without a few quality control issues - but I paid them $10. It was all I had, and they were so cute.

Which is making me wonder ... did I just get scammed by an 8 year old?

What, again? Already?

2005-11-23T23:39:00.000-05:00

Thanks to everyone who reminded me that it's Thanksgiving in the States tomorrow - in Canada, it was in October.

So since it's late and I have to be at work in the morning - and since I swear I just did this a few days ago - this will be quick ...

Special Thanksgiving Week Picks (Week 12):

ATLANTA at Detroit
DENVER at Dallas
San Francisco at TENNESSEE
NEW ENGLAND at Kansas City
Cleveland at MINNESOTA
ST. LOUIS at Houston
CAROLINA at Buffalo
Baltimore at CINCINNATI
CHICAGO at Tampa Bay
SAN DIEGO at Washington
Miami at OAKLAND
NEW YORK GIANTS at Seattle
JACKSONVILLE at Arizona
Green Bay at PHILADELPHIA
NEW ORLEANS at New York Jets
Pittsburgh at INDIANAPOLIS

He Said / She Said - The Doctors are IN

2005-11-20T21:30:00.000-05:00

Author's Note: This is the first edition of 'He Said/She Said', where Scott and I answer questions sent in by readers and selected by Brad, our lovely assistant. (He likes it when we call him that.)

As the title suggests, I'm answering the questions from a woman's perspective. To read what a guy has to say, please see Scott's blog.

And finally, a sincere thank you to everyone who submitted questions this week. We'd like to do it again, so please keep sending questions to: stoutlager@gmail.com.

And now, for the questions:

1) What is your significant other's idea of YOUR perfect evening?

What a sweet question. So nice, so innocent, so romantic, so ... so freaking dangerous I don't even want to touch it. But since I don't really have a choice, I did what any self-respecting person in my place would have done: I cheated. Twice.

The first time, I checked Scott's blog to see how in flaming hell he managed to answer this ticking timebomb without getting himself killed. And this turned out to be a bad move on my part, because his strategy was brilliant, and now I can't use it.

The second time, I walked down the hall and asked my significant other: "What is your idea of my perfect evening?" Believe it or not, this didn't turn out so hot, either.

Response Attempt #1: "Why are you asking me this?"
Response Attempt #2: "Wait, is this for your blog or something?"
Response Attempt #3: "You mean besides sitting here watching tv?"

This led to a whole discussion about how he really should know the answer to this question, and since all he was doing was watching tv anyway, perhaps this would be an opportune moment for me to tell him.

Yeah. Let's just say that, whatever anyone's idea of the perfect evening may be, tonight ain't it.

Next question.

2) How does one get from "The Friend Zone" to "The End Zone"?

Well, eliminating the phrases "friend zone" and "end zone" from your vocabulary might be a good place to start.

Other than that, I'm going to take some creative liberties and assume you're not really asking for advice on how to actually, um, 'score' (that topic is covered elsewhere), but how to take a relationship with someone you already like, respect, and care about and turn it up a notch. And - here's the catch - how to do this without humiliating yourself and/or ruining the friendship.

Am I right? Good.

Actually, this one can be scary, since there's so much at stake. But there's also a lot to gain, since some of the best relationships start as 'just friends'. So my advice is this: Go for it, take the risk, be honest, tell her how you feel. Just be smart about it.

And how exactly does one do this? Well, a few things come to mind:

(1) Minimize your risk by trying to figure out her feelings before you do anything. Yes, I know; guys can be rather dense in this department, so let me give some specifics. Your goal here is subtlety - ie: don't suddenly jump her and assume that if she doesn't smack you she feels the same way. Just hang out, relax, flirt a little, ask questions to get to know her a bit more, and see how she reacts. If she seems receptive ...

(2) Ask her out. If she says 'Oh, you mean like a date?' say, yes, like a date. And if you make it this far...

(3) Just tell her how you feel already; what's the worst that can happen?

(4) In case the 'worst that can happen' does in fact happen, take it like a man. If she says she just wants to be friends, respect that. This means if you ask her six times and she politely says no six times, don't figure '7 th time's the charm', post a racy Valentine's Day personal ad in the college newspaper that she won't see but all her friends will, including another girl with the same name who's madly in love with another guy with the same name, and who will respond to the racy personal ad with an even racier one of her own. Please don't do this. It will quickly devolve into something generally only witnessed during prime time, and no one - I repeat no one - will win.

But come on; what are the chances of that ever happening? So go for it, and please be sure to invite me to the wedding if things work out.

3) How many women does it take to screw in a lightbulb?

Oh, I could have gone so many different ways with this one: self-deprecating humor, faked outrage, flat-out unbridled sarcasm. But why stretch myself in an attempt to branch out when sarcasm just comes so naturally?

It takes one woman to screw in a lightbulb. The same number it takes to screw out a lightbulb so she can take it, as well as the rest of her belongings, and leave your sorry ass in the dust for even thinking of this question, let alone asking it.

Unless, of course, the lightbulb is in the ladies' room; then it takes two.

Princess' Picks - Week 11

2005-11-19T14:08:00.000-05:00

Last week, I made a promise: From now on, I'll use pure, unadulterated logic to pick the Monday night game, since superstition and psychology have failed me twice now.

And honestly, I tried.

But this week - unless you know far more about these two teams than I do - there is no logical answer. Minnesota and Green Bay are perhaps the two flakiest teams in the entire universe. (And for those of you who still think I pick this way: they both have ugly uniforms.) I mean, neither one should win this game, or they both should win, and neither of these outcomes is - you got it - logical.

So I was in the middle of devising a brilliant mathematical formula that I could use to predict the winner, but it got to the point where it required calculus. So I stopped - because this is supposed to be fun, and calculus is the antithesis of fun - and said "screw this logic crap; I'll just pick who I want to pick".

And if you hate who I picked, well, you'll just have to adjust.

Week 11 Picks:

Arizona at ST. LOUIS
CAROLINA at Chicago
Detroit at DALLAS
JACKSONVILLE at Tennessee
MIAMI at Cleveland
New Orleans at NEW ENGLAND
Oakland at WASHINGTON
Philadelphia at NEW YORK GIANTS
PITTSBURGH at Baltimore
Tampa Bay at ATLANTA
SEATTLE at San Francisco
Buffalo at SAN DIEGO
INDIANAPOLIS at Cincinnati
New York Jets at DENVER
KANSAS CITY at Houston
MINNESOTA at Green Bay

The Spammer Hall of Shame - Volume II

2005-11-18T14:19:00.000-05:00

It's been a while since I looked in the old Spam Trapper, but since I'm home sick today and feeling kind of nauseous anyway, I figured I'd see if there was anything interesting in there. And you know, as much as I hate to say this, I have to give the spammers some credit this time around. They've now figured out how to:

a) Read my posts and leave comments that are on topic.

b) Use my name in the comments, in an attempt to trick me into thinking it's an actual comment from a real person.

Bastards. If only this creativity could be channeled into some useful purpose, the world would surely be a better place. And don't get me wrong - I still hate them all, they still can't spell worth crap, and based on the number of Viagra comments I get per week, they don't know me that well.

So here are today's inductees into the Spammer Hall of Shame:

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
The "Yes, you probably should get a life and quit stalking me" award goes to ...

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October 23, 2005 12:23 AM

He Said/She Said

2005-11-14T22:45:00.000-05:00

A couple of months ago, I wrote a sappy post about relationships. This was back in the days before Beer Week and football picks, and it triggered a lot of discussion - including a fair number of comments from my male viewing audience. Huh. Go figure.

One of the comments was from my good friend Scott, who said something along the lines of: "Hey, we should do a 'He Said/She Said' feature. You know, ask people to submit questions and then we both answer the questions, in our own unique way, on our own blogs, on the same day. This way, readers will get a His and Hers perspective on the same question. Get it?"

(Actually, I'm sure he said it far more eloquently than that - and with a Southern accent - but it's late and I'm tired, so just go with the concept, ok?)

And my response to this idea: "Yeah, right. If you think I'm going to blindly take questions from anyone with a vivid imagination and an internet connection, then you've obviously been smoking something. Or at least drinking something." You know, the same reaction I initially had when he suggested we do Beer Week ... and we all know how that turned out.

In other words, it's Question Time.

But before I explain the 'Rules', I should tell you a few things about Scott:

1) He used to be a sports writer
2) He now works for a beer company
3) His blog, 'Highly Sophisticated Rednecks', is the first one I ever linked to. This means that we go way back - in blogging terms, anyway - and I completely trust his ability to answer any questions with sensitivity, insight, and just enough sarcasm to keep us all from becoming ill.

Assisting us with this project is our lovely assistant Brad, who can't do sarcasm well enough to answer questions like this in public. (Sorry, Brad; I told you to work on that.) So he's agreed to take the questions, select the best ones, and give them to us to answer. (In other words, we're trusting him a lot, so perhaps that sarcasm comment was not the best idea.)

So ... if you'd like to ask a question, please email it to: stoutlager@gmail.com

** Questions can be on any topic - current events, relationships, mysteries of the universe or of male/female behavior, sports (although what a colossal waste of an opportunity that would be), whatever. Once we have the date for 'He Said/She Said', we'll let you know.

Overkill?

2005-11-12T23:00:00.000-05:00

After a spirited off-line discussion about this story, I figured someone had to post it. It's just too good, and besides, you guys had your chance. Sometimes it takes a woman to educate people about the kinder, gentler things in life.

While there's a whole lot to wonder about, what puzzles me most is this: Surely this guy had a gun. I mean, people who view a deer as 'good eatin' rather than as one of God's beautiful creatures tend to own guns, right? (Not that there's anything wrong with that; I'm just saying. ) Or if this is just some lame stereotype on my part, then did he not have a baseball bat? A golf club? The presence of mind to run from the house to escape the wrath of Bambi? Anything???

Guess not.

Princess' Picks

2005-11-12T10:44:00.000-05:00

I just have to say that this was a really boring week to do picks. As a result, my picks are - that's right - really boring. Why? I like upsets, and with so many big spreads this week, it was hard to pick upsets. Besides, the experts I consult with (could be the pro pick lists, could be the Psychic Friends Network; I'll never tell) all seem to strongly favor one team or another on almost every single game.

Damn.

(Author's Note: Come to think of it, it was pointed out that last week's picks were also boring, which is not entirely fair, as the person doing the pointing out had even fewer upsets than I did. But then again, he also beat me, 13-1. Sometimes logic really does work, I suppose.)

And once again, the drama comes down to Monday night. How will Philadelphia do without Terrell Owens? Here's how I see it: You know how every office has a problem employee who doesn't get along with anyone, takes credit for other peoples' work, and generally makes a big, fat, morale-sucking pain in the ass out of himself? And you know how it is when that guy finally gets fired? Yeah, well that's how I see Monday night. (Author's note: This pick is subject to change, as logically, I think Dallas should win. Last week, I went with psychology over logic for the Monday night game, and look what happened. Will I learn? Probably not, but I have a couple of days to decide.)

Week 10 Picks:

KANSAS CITY at Buffalo
San Francisco at CHICAGO
Baltimore at JACKSONVILLE
Arizona at DETROIT
Houston at INDIANAPOLIS
NEW ENGLAND at Miami
Minnesota at NEW YORK GIANTS
New York Jets at CAROLINA
DENVER at Oakland
St. Louis at SEATTLE
Green Bay at ATLANTA
Washington at TAMPA BAY
Cleveland at PITTSBURGH
Dallas at PHILADELPHIA

How [Not] to Impress the Ladies

2005-11-10T01:24:00.000-05:00

Author's Note: Yesterday, someone mentioned that I displayed far too much class by resisting the temptation to pick on anyone in my post. Today I'd like to clear up that little misperception, just so I don't disappoint.

** Warning to any new and/or sensitive readers, as well as anyone I'm still weaning off their emoticon dependence: This post has a sarcasm rating of 9.5

In the past week or so, I've heard several comments by members of the male sub-species that are best represented by the picture on the left. That's right, all together now: "D'oh!"

So in an effort to make the world a better place - and to help keep you guys out of trouble and off the couch at home - I'd like to share some of these comments and my reactions to them. Please note that some have been paraphrased, most are out of context, and all names have been omitted for the sake of propriety. (ie: If you call yourself out in the comments by admitting to saying it, then that's your own stupid fault, not mine.)

D'oh Moment #1: "Find a sugar daddy so you can work less and shop more"

Oh, where to even start? Let's just say that unless your name is Bono and you're offering, this one won't score you any points.

D'oh Moment #2: "You're not getting any younger, you know"

No, actually, I did not know that. I'm a stupid woman, remember, which is why I need a sugar daddy to support me. Don't you guys ever talk to each other? And please note that even if said in the nicest, most supportive way - and even if you're several years older and use that fact in a desperate attempt to backpedal - I'm still going to throw things at you.

D'oh Moment #3: "Are you really going to eat that whole bag of chips?"

Yes, as a matter of fact, I am. And that whole candy bar, too. It's been a crappy day, I have PMS and if you think you can imply that I'm some sort of fat pig and I'll run off crying so you can steal my food, well, that's just not happening. So if you have a problem with it, then you can just ... what's that? Never mind, you'll just go buy your own goddamn chips? Smart boy.

D'oh Moment #4: Several comments about my college basketball team allegedly sucking

Yes, I know. Guys talk trash like this all the time, and apparently it's a sign of friendship. It means that you like us, or at least that you don't hate us. Like when you used to tease and throw rocks at us on the playground at school. Well, just so you know, we didn't get it in 3rd grade, and we don't fully comprehend it now, either.

But actually, now that it's been explained to me, this last one is kind of sweet. It can also be a lot of fun, especially if you went to a school whose basketball team does not - even ever so slightly - suck. So maybe this is one we should learn to live with; I just don't want to hear any crying when we give it right back.

Princess-onomics

2005-11-08T22:50:00.000-05:00

I've come to the conclusion that if I played it right, I could work less and have more money.

(Author's Note: In this case, 'played it right' is just an expression. I'm not alluding to any type of quasi-legal gambling as a way to increase my income.)

How is this possible? Well, as some of you know, I'm a consultant. Right now, I split my week between two clients: Client #1 is a law firm, and Client #2 is in the music industry. This means a few things: (1) you will never, ever find an illegal mp3 on my computer; (2) any natural tendencies I may have towards developing a split personality, well, this doesn't exactly help matters any; and (3) I have wardrobe issues that, besides putting Janet Jackson to shame, make my current work situation economically- shall we say - ineffective.

Before I go on, let me assure you that I was an econ major, so I'm fully qualified to give economic advice - at least on the internet. With that out of the way, allow me to explain ...

The Fundamental Rules of Princess-onomics (And How I'm Breaking Them):

Rule #1: Minimize Business Expenses

How I'm breaking this one is best expressed by the following equation: Law Firm Dress Code + Music Industry Dress Code = I have to shop for two separate wardrobes.

While the benefit of this is obvious, there’s also a downside – all this shopping is freakin' expensive. Now I'm sure some of you logical types would just love to point out that, technically, I could wear my professional clothes in the casual environment. You might even think this makes complete sense because (a) since the invention of the cubicle, no one has ever gotten reprimanded for overdressing at the office, and (b) hell, it might even impress people. Well, let me explain why this is crap: The only time I’ve ever seen anyone in a suit at Client #2 was on Halloween, when some guy came in dressed as - ironically - a lawyer. He won 'Funniest Costume', which I think just about says it all.

Rule #2: Conserve Resources

Deciding what to wear in the morning can require more brain power than launching the space shuttle. All kinds of variables come into play: What day is it? Where am I going again? Do I have a meeting? Do I need to wear a suit? Jeans? Visible body piercings; they ok today? (Just kidding.) And factor in that this all has to be decided at 6 am, and it's safe to say I’ve written computer programs that are far less complicated.

The economic lesson here? By wasting brain power figuring this out, I have less brain power left over to do my job ... which I actually get paid for.

Rule #3: Maximixe Profits by Avoiding Temptation

To get this, you have to know that I love to shop. That said, Client #1 is conveniently located in the largest shopping mall in Toronto. And Client #2? A mere 5-minute walk from Yorkville – the city’s primo shopping district. For me, working in either of these locations is analogous to, well, I could complete this any number of ways depending on who I feel like picking on today, but I'll resist the temptation, just to prove that I can.

So to summarize: By working less, I could cut my business expenses (fewer clothes required), conserve my resources (less brain power wasted figuring out what to wear) and maximize my profits (less time spent in those evil places we call shopping malls). Less work, more money, everybody wins. Or at least I do.

And while there's probably a catch in there somewhere ... sorry, I just can't see it.

The Princess' Picks (Updated)

2005-11-04T00:30:00.000-05:00

Yes, it's Friday, which means it's time for NFL picks.

However, I'm having slight technical difficulties, which I'm attributing to two things:

1) Pressure: You know how it feels when you write a post that you really like, and then you don't want to post another one on top of it because you're afraid the new one isn't as good? Yeah, that feeling. Well, I'm experiencing it right now with my picks, as I was 10-4 last week. (Author's Note: Being 10-4 was fun; I liked that. Being 6-8 the previous week? Decidedly less fun. )

2) Unrealistic Expectations: Some recent comments seem to imply that perhaps, just maybe, I can cause a team to miraculosly win just by picking them. This, folks, is a fallacy; except in the case of Minnesota two weeks ago, whose win I claim full credit for. But if you still believe my picks are magic, well, saying I look under 30 is a pretty good way to get me on your side. (Go, Patriots!)

So my picks will be up later today. In the meantime, I have a question:

Why does every single Google Image search seem to find pictures of half-naked women and the Linux penguin? (No, not together; that would be weird. And you can all stop picturing it now. Please.)

And on that note ... I'd like to keep everyone out of trouble at work today by sharing the following PSA, sponsored by the friendly folks in your IT department:

IT Guy: You know that companies track employee email, right? And that they reserve the right to read it at any time?

Employee: Sure, but come on. They're so busy trying to keep us all off Blogger that they don't have time to bother with email anymore. And besides, what's the worst that could happen?

IT Guy: Well, you could lose your job. And then they could disclose the content of your email and make you look like a dumbass in the international media.

Employee: Yeah, and I could also get hit by a meteor on my way to work on Monday. And Jessica Biel could call me and ...

IT Guy: Read the link, you idiot.

Employee: Oh. Wow. Yeah, that would suck.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Week 9 Picks:

Oakland at KANSAS CITY
Detroit at MINNESOTA
TENNESSEE at Cleveland
ATLANTA at Miami
SAN DIEGO at New York Jets
CAROLINA at Tampa Bay
Houston at JACKSONVILLE
CINCINNATI at Baltimore
NY GIANTS at San Francisco
SEATTLE at Arizona
CHICAGO at New Orleans
PITTSBURGH at Green Bay
Philadelphia at WASHINGTON
Indianapolis at NEW ENGLAND

Twister

2005-11-02T01:01:00.000-05:00

When I got home from work on Monday, I had a million things to do. I also had a wicked headache, courtesy of a 4-hour meeting followed by an afternoon spent trying to program an accounting system. (Ok folks, all together now: An overpayment is negative, not positive.) I needed two things: Advil, and a really quick nap in a really dark room. A combination that - while pure heaven on a rainy Saturday - is the devil incarnate when you're on a deadline and forget to set the alarm.

So what began with the best of intentions ended with me, two hours later, trying to run from a giant tornado as a spider, a ghost and SpongeBob SquarePants pounded down my front door.

Happy freakin' Halloween. And luckily, the tornado part was just a dream.

Dreams. Since I have a psych degree and worked at a sleep lab while I was in school, people ask me about these all the time. Do they really mean anything? And if so, what? Well, there are many opinions out there, from the Freudian (tie = sex, train = sex, giant tornado = ok, I think we all get the idea), to the biological (it's just random brain activity and means absolutely nothing.)

Personally, I think it's somewhere in the middle; that our dreams do represent a message from our subconscious mind, but that the meaning of that message is unique to the individual. Which means that two people could have the same dream, but interpret it differently. So how, then, do we understand our dreams? I think the key lies more in the process of trying to figure it out, than in any sort of "this equals that" mapping exercise. Take the content of the dream, combined with the emotional reaction it triggers, and seek your answer there.

Hey, I never said it was easy.

But it seems my subconscious mind lacks creativity, because all year, I've had about four dreams, over and over again. For pure entertainment, and because they're common ones, I'll share the other three: taking an exam for a class I've blown off all semester; showing up at work half dressed; and - my personal favorite - all my teeth falling out. (God, I hate that one.)

So what does this mean? That I'm a slacker with a desperate fear of going to the dentist? Actually, it might, but I prefer a different interpretation. For me, these dreams all represent the same thing: the fear of exposure. You know, trying to hide your imperfections from the world out of fear of judgment, rejection, or whatever horrible thing you think might happen if other people really knew you. See, I used to play this game - a lot - but lately I've stopped. And, funny enough, so have the dreams.

As for the tornado dream, well, that one seems to be all mine. And it just won't leave me alone, despite - and here's the kicker - the fact that I've figured it out. So subconscious mind, here's my message to you: What exactly do you want from me, because I'd like a new dream, please. I can even provide some suggestions if you're feeling uninspired.

Because I'm getting really bored with this one.

Who Would You Rather Be?

2005-10-30T14:03:00.000-05:00

Author's Note: This was inspired by a post I read on "Beauty and the Beltway" on the nomination of Harriet Miers for Supreme Court Justice. If you haven't read Abra's blog, I highly recommend it; she's an excellent writer and does a wonderful job bringing both insight and accessibility to her coverage of political issues.

Years ago, I worked for a company in the restaurant industry. During my orientation, the chief executive from one of our divisions (bagels) came in and spoke about the company, its history, its goals; you know, the usual drill. For the most part, we were a young audience; eager, idealistic, and sufficiently naive to believe that, in such a forum, "Any questions?" truly meant "any questions."

So someone asked why our bagels sucked. Granted, he phrased it with a bit more diplomacy, but his point came through loud and clear. As a consumer, he felt that a competitor had a superior product; as a new employee, he wanted to make sure Head Bagel Guy was aware of the problem and had a plan to address it.

Head Bagel Guy smiled and began to explain. True, our bagels aren't as 'authentic' as those of our competitor, but that's ok, because not everyone in America knows a good bagel when they taste one. Give a hard, chewy NY-style bagel to someone in the Midwest, and they may not like it. But a softer, fluffier bagel results in fewer complaints - and makes a better sandwich, which is where the real profits are. And to drive his point home, he offered the following analogy: "Who would you rather be? The guy who owns one pizza shop that makes really good pizza, or the guy who owns Domino's?"

I couldn't believe it. Basically, Head Bagel Guy had just told a bunch of impressionable twentysomethings that success is not about excellence, but about being the least objectionable to the largest number of people. And the condescending tone of his voice made it clear that only a fool could see it otherwise.

When did we get it so wrong?

From the domination of Wal-Mart to the entire music industry - where 'creative' and 'edgy' used to get you signed - 'mass market appeal' has become the new hot ticket. And just walk through Cubicle-ville at any large company and you're likely to find one commonality: employees are told that talent and initiative are what's most important, but are shown otherwise. (This one, I know about; it cost me a job once.)

Recently, as evidenced by the latest trend in nominations, this mindset has made it all the way to the US Supreme Court. And the new hot ticket to Justicehood? Being the least objectionable candidate by virtue of having kept your opinions - at least the controversial ones - to yourself.

This is truly frightening. We're no longer talking about trying to sell more bagels; we're talking about selecting people to make decisions that will change the course of our nation's history. I know if I were in charge of the nominations, I'd have a fairly short list of criteria. Having a brilliant legal mind would be on that list, as would having strong convictions, with enough courage and fluency to express them. Suffice it say that I'd select someone whose qualifications made them stand out, not blend in.

Which brings me back to Head Bagel Guy and his question: Who would I rather be?

Ironically, if I answered that I would contradict the point of my entire post, since his question implies that success and authenticity are somehow mutually exclusive. But let me spin it a different way: between Head Bagel Guy and the new employee who asked about the sucky bagels, I know who I'd hire. The new employee formed a [controversial] opinion based on his convictions, took a risk, and got that opinion on the record; all with the goal of improving the status quo. And back then, he was idealistic enough to believe that doing so was the only way to go.

I have no idea what he's up to now, but I hope he still is.

The author is a software developer who aspires to do something related to writing someday. Maybe. If she can figure out what that is. In her spare time, she's a proud supporter of indie bands and authentic NY-style bagels. She presently lives in Toronto.

Girl Fight - The Rematch

2005-10-28T07:18:00.000-04:00

Author's Note: If you're new here or missed Wednesday's post, please read it first or you'll be confused. Trust me. For everyone else: today the Princess fights the Hiker to regain control of this blog...among other things.

Princess: What was that?

Hiker: Excuse me.

Princess: Ok, this is getting way out of control. First it was the football picks, then I started finding the toilet seat up ...

Hiker: That isn't me!!!

Princess: ... and there are already enough people walking around this house burping and farting, without you doing it, too. Seriously. We need to talk.

Hiker: Sure, but can you move over a little bit while you're talking; I'm trying to watch the game.

Princess: Are you implying that my ass is big enough to block a 57" television screen?

Hiker: Hey, it's my ass too, remember? But now that you mention it, our jeans do seem to be getting a little tight lately. Maybe you should add a couple miles to your morning run?

Princess: And maybe you should burn those extra 2 calories by walking to the toilet to pee, instead of just going in the shower.

Hiker: Don't knock it 'til you've tried it. Besides, I'm perfectly happy wearing sweat pants.

Princess: So I've noticed. But we're getting nowhere, so here's the deal: I don't understand it, I'm not going to even pretend to understand it, but if you insist on devolving into a sitcom character, fine. But you're not dragging me down with you. So go play with your little friends, do your picks, watch your games, obsess over your stats, whatever; but go do it on their turf, not here.

Hiker: But I want to do it here! People like it.

Princess: Good lord, girl; when did you become such an attention whore?

Hiker: Hey, people who intentionally run past construction sites shouldn't throw stones.

Princess: Well, next time I'll be sure to get you some phone numbers so you can call the fellas for some advice; then maybe your picks won't suck as bad. I mean, Miami? Come on. If you lived in a city about to be hit by a hurricane, don't you think you might be the slightest bit preoccupied?

Hiker: Like you could do better? (Late Edit: The Princess did better. 10-4.)

Princess: Not only could I do better; I sure as hell would look better, but ... Hey, that's not fair! You know all my secrets, my competitive streak, my addictive personality. You tricked me!

Hiker: And you just bought yourself a weekly column. Which works out well, actually, because ski season starts soon, so ...

Princess: ... so while I'm working my ass off so as not to humiliate us, you'll be spending your weekends with the ski patrol? Bitch. Oh, but wait - those guys would be repulsed by you in your present state, which means you'll start acting like a girl again!!! (Yes!! Princess: 1, Hiker: 0.)

Hiker: Um, speaking of working your ass off, you better get on that because it's still blocking the tv. (Yes!! Weekends skiing and NFL picks on our blog every Friday. Hiker: 2, Princess: Never even stood a chance.)

Place Your Bets: "Girl Fight, The Rematch"

2005-10-26T00:01:00.000-04:00

Author's Note: If you're new here, please read the original "Girl Fight!" post before reading this one.

This is the Princess, and I'm not happy.

As several of you have pointed out, I haven't been myself lately. Posts about, well, lots of things have been replaced with posts about NFL picks and Fantasy Football. Why? Well, I've been trying for days to figure that out.

Initially, I attributed it to Beer Week; I figured all that talk about drinking must have broken me somehow. Then I suspected it might be hormonal; you know, some early premature menopause sort of thing? But come on; potential cougar that I may be, I'm not that old.

And then it hit me.

It's that crazy Hiker. See, we had a fight a while back, she won, it went to her head and then everything changed. We used to have an understanding: I am the Princess, this is my blog, I make the creative decisions. True, her name is on it too and I do give her input - we write about hiking, skiing and even college basketball. But that's where I draw the line. And now it seems she wants more, including - oh, the horror! - weekly NFL picks.

As I said, I'm not happy.

So in order to resolve this little crisis, we're having a rematch: The Princess vs. The Hiker, this Friday, fighting it out for creative control of this blog. If she wins, then weekly NFL picks it is. But if I win, the football crap is history.

So place your bets now ... who's it gonna be, folks?

My So-Called Science Experiment

2005-10-25T00:03:00.000-04:00

Since it was a cold, rainy weekend in Toronto and I had nothing better to do, I decided to conduct a little experiment:

< -- Beware the internet; this is what I really look like.

Take a subject who hasn't watched a football game since 1998 (that would be me) and challenge her to pick the outcome of every NFL game, using - and this is key - some semblance of logic. Then share the results, as well as her methodology, on Tuesday morning.

The Results:

- Did I do better than 50/50? No. 6-8. I sucked.

- Did I act like a crackhead, obsessively checking scores on NFL.com every 5 minutes? No. Um, wait, I just remembered that there were witnesses, so if you really must know, yes. Happy now?

- Do I want to try it again next week? Oh yes. Desperately.

- Am I going to? Not sure, as I may end up single if I do.

The Methodology:

I used a unique formula of sports psychology, sentiment and wishful thinking, tempered (a little) with logic. Sometimes this formula worked and sometimes it didn't, but in the name of science, education, and plain old entertainment, I'll share what I learned.

(1) Beware the 'Hurricane Rule':
If a city has been decimated by a major hurricane - or has one aimed directly at it as a game is in progress - it's only human nature to want to pick that team. Poor little guys have been through/are about to go through enough, so it's only fair that they should win, right? Of course! But unfortunately, life isn't fair, or the Hurricane Rule wouldn't have cost me two games this week. (Lost: New Orleans, Miami.)

(2) While statistics never lie, they've been known to deceive:
If I didn't know which team to pick and really didn't care, I looked at their records and simply picked the better team. Now what could possibly be wrong with that? Well, it didn't always flippin' work, that's what. (Lost: Cincinnati, Buffalo.)

(3) If you like a team, for whatever reason, then pick them:
This one cost me. I'm not saying it's a poor overall strategy, just that it didn't work too well for me this particular week. Oh, and while liking a team because you used to live in that part of the country is perfectly acceptable, liking a team based on its mascot is pretty lame. (Won: Arizona. Lost: Denver, Cleveland.)

(4) Don't count your chickens before the game clock says 'Final':
Ok, so this one isn't about how to pick teams, but how to avoid a situation where you're staring in shock at your tv screen, screaming "Noooooooo!" with such horror that your neighbors come to the door offering to call 911. Twice. (Denver, Dallas.)

(5) Never underestimate the power of having nothing to lose:
Let's say that as a team you're 1-4. You've recently disgraced yourselves both on the field and off. Everyone hates you - the league, your fans, the coach, the media, and probably even your parents if they ever watch tv. And this week - oh wait, it just keeps on getting better - you're playing at home.

So what do you do? Well, you either hang your heads in shame and give up completely, or you go out and play like a team that has nothing to lose. (Won: Minnesota.)

Yes, the last one I actually called right, making my rules a brilliant 1/5. And I think I'm done.

Monday, Monday

2005-10-24T12:23:00.000-04:00

After several months of R&R (Recording a cd? Skiing in Chile? In rehab?), 'Monday, Monday' is back today with these thoughs and observations ....

Can we stop with the 'DeLay' puns please?

Seriously. I mean, enough already. The guy's been indicted, arrested, fingerprinted, forced to put on his best suit and get his hair cut; certainly he deserves this one little bit of respect. Besides, it's just too easy; if you're truly creative, you'll start thinking of something good to do with 'Cheney'.

And is it just me? The first time I came across a blog about DeLay and his mugshot, I thought it was a joke, that someone had Photoshopped one of his campaign posters. His eyes are open, he's smiling, he's looking directly at the camera; whoever took this picture has a valuable skill and should be immediately transferred to the DMV. (Author's Note: I'd include a shot of my own driver's license picture as a reference, but you guys don't want to see that. Trust me.)

In Other News

1) There's 'adding insult to injury', and then there's this.

2) Former president Clinton supports Canada's position on the softwood lumber debate. And now we know why.

Coming Tomorrow ...

Ok, you guys have seen my NFL picks. I've done the math, and if Atlanta wins tonight, I will be ....... 6-8. Woo hoo! That's almost a bad as the records of some of the teams I picked to win yesterday. I mean, look at it this way: According to the laws of probability, a blindfolded monkey throwing darts would have been 7-7. So considering that I actually put some thought into this, well, that's what I get for thinking, I suppose.

So tomorrow I'll share the details of my thought process - why I picked the teams I picked. And I'm willing to admit to this because ...? No good reason.

Happy Monday, everyone!

Hell Has Frozen Over (Another Sports Post)

2005-10-22T16:28:00.000-04:00

I was supposed to be in a Fantasy Football league this year. It didn't end up happening because of a minor scheduling glitch (ie: the League Commissioner forgot to hold the draft), but that's ok. I was actually relieved when it was cancelled, because when it comes to football, I'm pretty useless. Seriously. My entire knowledge of the NFL can be summed up as follows:

- Jason Elam kicks for Denver.
- Peyton Manning is a quarterback.
- Daunte Culpepper plays for Minnesota and is overrated.

That's it. And I'm not even 100% confident that it's all correct, so please don't base any important life decisions on it.

But I do know from past relationships what Fantasy Football can do - take rational people and make them behave like crackheads. And not just ordinary crackheads either, but ones that are in so deep that they already owe their bookie 10 grand and will have to skip town unless Miami beats Kansas City by at least 50 points, This Guy scores three touchdowns on Sunday and This Other Guy gets injured on Monday night and spends the entire game on the bench. And who think that by glueing their asses to the couch for hours on end, clicking frantically between games and running upstairs to check the internet for scores during the commercials, that they can magically will all of this to happen.

Author's Note: I'd like to take a moment to thank the League Commissioner for saving me from this fate by taking the pipe out of my hands before I ever got the chance to try it.

But early on, I did try to prepare. I learned to distinguish football teams from hockey teams, to match teams with cities, to learn who played what position (hence my newfound expertise on Peyton Manning) as well as who was good, who was overrated, who was old, and who was injured.

And then something happened, causing the following discussion between me and my boyfriend, as he had the nerve to try to speak to me while I was watching CNN:

Me: "Shhhh, I'm trying to watch this."
Boyfriend: "It's a sports story."
Me: "I know. Some NFL player died and I want to hear who it was."
Boyfriend: "Ok, not to sound heartless, but ... you care about this because ...?"
Me: "Because I don't want to be a dumbass and pick him for my Fantasy team."

See, I pay attention. I could have surprised people.

So maybe I'm just an abuser in search of a substance, because for some strange reason, I'm now addicted to picking games. Based on my own special brand of logic, here are my picks for this week, immortalized in print in the unlikely event that they're any good: (Late Edit: they're not.)

rKansas City at MIAMI
rDetroit at CLEVELAND
aGreen Bay at MINNESOTA
aINDIANAPOLIS at Houston
rNEW ORLEANS at St. Louis
rPittsburgh at CINCINNATI
rSAN DIEGO at Philadephia
aSan Francisco at WASHINGTON
rDALLAS at Seattle (this one hurt)
aBaltimore at CHICAGO
rBUFFALO at Oakland
rDENVER at New York Giants (this one hurt bad)
aTennessee at ARIZONA
aNew York Jets at ATLANTA

Go Jason, go Daunte, go Peyton!

Unidentified Flying Objects

2005-10-20T19:44:00.000-04:00

Today, I was driving on the 401 and my hubcap fell off.

Actually, 'fell off' might not be the best description, since it implies something quiet and peaceful, like a leaf 'falling off' a tree. And this was definitely not quiet. Or peaceful. I saw it go, and the thing bounced at least 50 times - including once over the median - and must have gone for miles before settling on a final resting place over in the grass somewhere. (Ok, technically, I suppose it only went for kilometres, since this did happen in Canada.)

But I think I'm telling the story backwards, without some of the necessary context. (Or in the immortal words of The Professor, "Slow down sister!"). So I'll stop, take a breath and try to proceed in a more logical fashion.

What's the 401?

The 401 (not to be confused with the DVP) is a major highway in Toronto. During rush hour, it's a parking lot, but my hubcap went airborne at 2 pm, when the average vehicular speed hovers at around 80 mph. (Little known fact: Canadians drive like bats out of hell, and not wanting to brand myself a foreigner, I make every effort to blend in. Ok maybe not every effort, as I still don't follow hockey, but I do try when I feel like it.)

So why do I have wheels with hubcaps, rather than classy steel wheels?

I bought my car last fall - a cute little Mazda that did, in fact, have brushed steel wheels. Very classy wheels with cute little tires ... that don't work in the snow. At all. The first time it snowed, I thought my car was broken and took it to the dealership. Seriously. The Mazda guy, once he stopped laughing and regained the power of speech, informed me that I needed snow tires.

How could I have been such a ... stupid blonde chick?

I used to have a four-wheel drive SUV, so snow was never an issue before. Besides, I thought snow tires became obsolete in the 70s. I know my dad used to put them on his car, but that was a turquoise station wagon with wood paneling and an 8-track.

And hey, in my defense, there were two other people - two other men - at the dealership, having the same problem. And I was the only one smart enough to actually buy the snow tires, vs. risk an accident and higher insurance premiums all because snow tires have to be installed on plain rims which are, well, butt ugly.

And that they are. I almost cried when I saw my two-week old car, newly prepared for driving through a harsh Canadian winter, but decidedly un-pimped.

Hence the hubcaps.

But why do I have snow tires in October?

I live in the Great White North, and I'm a very organized person who never procrastinates and is always prepared. Either that, or I was too lazy to go back and have the wheels switched last May when the 'Possibility of Snow Alert' was finally downgraded to yellow. Honestly, I can't remember.

So if a car with no hubcaps is 'un-pimped', how would I describe a car with three hubcaps?

Don't even go there.