Parliament lesson

2.49PM CEST
Yesterday, I decided that I wanted to see the inside of Parliament, which is the largest legislative structure on the continent. It's also magnificently neo-Gothic. Unfortunately, none of the tour books really tell you what to expect or how to procure tickets. So when I arrived shortly after noon, I can only guess that since there was no queue, there were no tickets. And I got the brusque guard who spoke only Hungarian.

So it was my mission to see the Parliament today, dammit. Went to bed early in hopes of getting up early to get in queue for the 10AM tour. Well, I got up early-er and even with busting my hump the 2.2km to Parliament from my hostel (I would have spent more time fighting with the ticket machines than I saved taking public transit), I only arrived at 10. I figured I had missed my shot, but asked about the queue. Apparently there were still tickets available. I was a bit confused, but stood in line anyways. Ended up having a lovely conversation with another American and getting tickets for the 12PM tour.

(original crown jewels from 9th century)

The tour itself only lasted 30 minutes (the building is symmetrical and we saw the half not in use). The inside is just as grand as you would expect, with lush carpeting, gold everywhere, and a historical fascination with the number 96. Also, all of the materials in the building are Hungarian. Unlike the U.S. Capitol, the chambers and halls are bright, colorful, as opposed to dark, wooden and cave-like.

All in all, I waited 90 minutes for a 30 minute tour. Fortunately, it was very nice outside. But it was definitely a lesson in power. Clearly, this structure was built to be imposing. It is covered in spires on the outside and gold on the inside. The guard only lets two people at a time walk across the pavement into Gate X to get tickets. Even when the queue is spilling onto the street. Walking inside, you are both impressed and intimidated. Mission accomplished - I bow to the power of the Diet.

Quick Hungarian Lesson

If it says SAJH, you say sh-EYET, and you get cheese. Yup, eating shite in Hungary has a totally different connotation.

Budapest

Since the hostel's free internet consists of 2 terminals which are permanently in use, I am at the American-style coffee shop, which has a lovely berry-chocolate smoothy, free wi-fi, and apparently shelter from the sudden storm. So I can blog for either 75 more minutes or until my battery craps out, whichever comes first.

Budapest has slowly grown on me over the past 9 hours. I arrived on the overnight train, which always disorients me. Finally found the hostel, despite desperately needing to pee, but the hostel wasn't really ready for me, despite its promises of flexible check-in. So I had free breakfast (well, black coffee since the milk smelled off) and tried to talk myself into getting up and going, but when she offered me my bed, if not my locker, it was irresistible. Also, then I could check in properly when I woke up.

At first, I was having problems navigating or finding an operating ATM. Clearly Prague is the "pretty sister", because Budapest does not seem to have so fully embraced its tourist potential. Lots of construction and trash blowing in the streets. Then again, once I had a gyro in me, and the narcolepsy was wearing off, the day was looking much better.

Hungarian food looks much more exciting and appetizing than Czech. It's closer to Greek, which I love. In fact I passed a Knossos Tavern, complete with bull iconography! Also, Hungarian is the most alien language I have ever seen, even more than Greek. Lots of z's and accents. I couldn't even pronounce phonetically if I tried!

Fortunately, the National Museum is really close and easy to find from my hostel. Which was good, since my grasp on Hungarian history is tenuous at best. They had some nice, diverse artifacts, which seemed poised between East & West in a way I haven't seen before. You can still smell the incense that has infused the wood in the 15th century inlaid church kneelers that aren't hidden behind plexi.

Walked past the Old Synagogue to St. Stephen's Basilica, which is plenty cool from the side, let alone full-on. Climbed up to the tower for my first glimpses of some of the other famous landmarks. As I could see the Danube from the church, I decided to head for that.

About halfway across the Chain Bridge (which is way cooler than the conveyance to Grammaria's), I was getting bored with it all. Kept walking to at least hit Buda. Walked north to get a better view of the Cathedral when I found a tempting looking dinner special. And holy crap - one of the best meals EVER! Rose duck with sour cherry sauce in lemon-balm with corn porridge - a Transylvanian special. The duck was delightfully rare with a flavorful crust. Corn porridge reminds me of polenta. Both were beautifully complemented by the sour cherry sauce. And the Sailor Apple beer I had. Funny enough, the menu featured Hungarian, Transylvanian, Slovakian and German food, but Belgian beer (including Delirium on tap!).

The only thing better was that as I was lining up a photo, all of the city lit up, including my photo. In fact, I didn't realise what had happened until I reviewed the picture to see if it was blurry. And Budapest is breathtaking by night. If you want to see the blue Danube, check it out at twilight.

When I have more juice on the computer, I will post the pictures.

BackBlog: Train Travail

22/8/08 11.57PM CEST

Not even Honeysuckle-Grapefruit body mist can entirely cover up the smell of muffin dung. And since I don’t have a super-pressing agenda, this is still funny. Especially since I am making friends as we all cobble together and struggle to communicate what is going on.

It’s been a long time since I found myself on an overnight train, minimizing lodging costs, maximizing time spent in European cities. Fashionista had to head back to Bruxelles briefly before starting school in Italy on Monday. I was bummed to loose my travel buddy, especially after discovering some kickin’ nightlife. But it gave me the chance to see some modern art at Museum Kampa, watch dogs play in the park and do a lot of aimless walking through the city. I figured I would find one of the cool-sounding restaurants and have a nice meal before cozying up on some 2nd class floor. Of course, this involved the “scenic route” which cut me pretty close to my departure time. But with a bit of hustle, I made it on to my train in enough time to snag an open cabin.

Actually, the cabin looks pretty nice. Red seats like knock-off velvet with fresher padding, newer faux-wood paneling, nonsticky floors. At first glance, I think that sleeping in this will be a cinch. Then I get a pair of Spanish-speaking guys heading to Brno and a Czech mom/daughter who were in town for shopping. I’m the only one in for the long haul!

So I dive back into Middlesex before I start dozing. I am mildly aware of what is going on. And then I wake up and ask, why is this train stopped? And eventually, the better question – why is it moving backwards? Apparently, we are experiencing technical difficulties. A conductor explains something in Czech that everyone but me seems to understand. I understand funny noises, being towed backwards and lots of guys hanging out of windows. It’s actually pretty funny. For the first time since I arrived, it is raining, making standing outside unappealing. I have no idea what time I was supposed to arrive in Budapest, let alone what time that will (hopefully) happen now. Who knows, I may have another lovely day to spend in Prague.

The one unfortunate part of this little adventure – the smells. After my inevitably requisite dash to catch the train, I was less than fresh, so I took a couple of spritzes. In general the train seems to be populated by smelly backpackers (of which I am probably one). Also, the Czech mom just threw a dead brown banana peel into the mini trashcan. I have pretty much parked my nose under my shirt, which still smells Bath-Junkie fresh.

The afterward – after about an hour either stationary or rolling slowly in reverse, it seems that they have swapped out engines as we are moving forward again and at a fair clip. People are climbing back into their cabins for what will hopefully be a quieter trip.

BackBlog: Airport observations

8/18/8 18.37 CEST
While better planning might have been nice, I think what I really need right now is a beer. I am waiting to meet the Fashionista in the Prague airport in what, to me, seems like the most obvious place – in front of the Duty Free Neuhaus. Since we never really figured out a meeting point. Which would have been clever, but a bit tricky, since we are both arriving from totally different places into a an airport neither of us has been through. And sadly, all of the screens display departures, and none display arrivals. But I am sitting across from some cologne ad featuring a very rugged-looking Ewan McGregor.
On one hand, I seem to be the height of fashion, since red rolling bags are popular. But then I see all these women in their skinny jeans, heels and such. And I’m in yoga pants and cherry flats. Then again, I have never been a fashion plate. And certainly not when I have to spend 18 hours in transit.

Getting to O’Hare always tests my patience. Walking to the stop, I watched the bus pass by. But then I caught the other bus. Which of course, was the wrong one. So instead of cutting across town on the 92, I went all the way down Damen into Wicker Park to meet up with the blue line. OK. If I had my CTA card, I could have done a transfer, but I was operating with cash and new that this bus would definitely intersect with the blue line, however inefficiently. Fortunately, I had checked-in online. Landing in London took 2 hours from when we touched down to when I actually made it into the terminal. Two shuttles, a couple more queues. Apparently the whole reason Europeans travel is to shop the glamorous duty-frees in the airports. And Crunchie Nuggets are not sufficiently chi-chi to make it into the shops.

Liberal Culture

After several attempts to see a concert at Old Town Center, I finally managed after I moved out of Chicago. My cousins were seeing a friend play guitar behind Chip Taylor. While that is not something I would have thought to see, it was a good concert. The opener really wanted to be Feist with a violin, but kinda missed with her Prince covers and entire lack of stage presence.

Chip Taylor was old school. Lots of storytelling. Acoustic and kinda country. But my cousin's guitarist friend was phenomenal! Such sonic diversity and precision.

After the show, we had a beer in the green room where I shared my sharpie so the guitarist and backup singer could autograph the wall. Then we headed across the street to another bar to just hang out. It was fun to meet and chat with real musicians, and to just hang out with my cousins over a couple of drinks.

Today, my other cousin and I went to church, which was pretty liberal. The priest pretty much said "don't stand on ceremony" and they tapped up to take up the gifts on the fly. And you don't refuse. Especially when the usher uniform is Hawaiian shirt!

Point A to B via Crazy

While I love traveling, and I love Chicago, but I don’t love the drive, and I really don’t love the panic that necessarily comes before. It’s the step you conveniently forget about. And the process of leaving home was only exacerbated by the fact that I’m not just packing for one trip but 2. With a mind on trips 3 and 4. I am tossing backpacker stuff in one bag (that isn’t a backpack and it’s kinda weirding me out). Stuff for Chicago (Cubs t-shirt, skinny jeans, big facewash) into another bag. And then I am trying to organize my stuff for the drive back to VA to prep for CA. All the while frantically stashing my junk and undies into closets and boxes because it’s not even my house. And while I don’t really like leaving my own apartment in shambles when I leave, the idea that Lil Sis will be returning before I do made it not an option. It’s one thing if I chose to live in squalor; it’s another to have someone else walk into it.

And of course, I am completely convinced I have forgotten something, even as the other part of me says that as long as I have my passport, computer and credit card, I will be fine. I am not going anywhere so remote that I can’t just get what I need.

The drive through Ohio and Indiana is kinda dull and flat. And given my general impatience/distaste for it, I suspect my drive to CA is going to SUCK.

But seeing the word Chicago start to show up on the highway signs, and crossing the Skyway to see the Chicago skyline still gives me chills. I love it! And right then “My Kind of Town” came up on the shuffle. It’s good to be home.

RIP Spool

Before I commission to Spool to the great beyond, I should say a few words.

The Spool joined AWLM in 1999, rescued by our token male at work. Spool was quickly assimilated into the Ludwell lifestyle, which involved being painted, handprinted, spilled on, and the center of the ER parties. It was the perfect height for putting your feet up, or opening a pizza box on. And the bottom part of the spool was a great place to put drinks that didn't fit on the top half. As we did cool things, we memorialised them on the Spool. And as everyone else grew up, Spool stayed with me, delighting in our mutual ghetto/gypsy lifestyle. I have chased Spool down a couple of hills, rolled it to different apartments, but I fear the end is nigh.

Practically speaking, it would be a bitch to take the Spool to California. Not that it wouldn't be really happy to be in yet another dorm. But it's bulky and only fits in the Civic one way.

So I debate the best way to send off the Spool. Because just tossing it in the dumpster just seems wrong. Storing it is an option, but when is the next time anyone is really gonna need Spool? Here is my ideal:

Gather the Mob at Lake Matoaka after dark. Finish inscribing Spool with all the events that have happened (babies, graduations, houses, etc). Then set it ablaze and roast weenies and marshmellows. Then roll it into the Lake.

While the idea of a true Viking funeral would be great, my archery skills blow. I liked another suggestion - cramming it full of fireworks, then setting them all off as it rolls into the Lake, but that would probably get me arrested.

While I'm not sure how it will get back to VA, I am certain I could find a way, if I could find a good reason to do so.

on iPod: "Shame on You" - Lily Allen

PS Let me find some pictures.

I love people in animal costumes

To the best of my memory, I was never really freaked out by people wearing animal costumes, even as a small person. Then again, I was 4 when I first went to Disney, so at least I was big enough to run away or use words to express my displeasure.

There is something so inherently silly about the whole thing. Just about any of the British Trigger Happy TV skits made me laugh out loud repeatedly (dogs beating each other up, bunnies humping in the elevator). Probably my favorite monologue ever is "Jay" by Jane Martin about a girl who plays the mascot for the Toronto Blue Jays. My favorite security call at JLL was the time a person dressed like a chicken was beating up a guy dressed like a cow in the food court at Union Station. The only thing funnier than receiving the call was reporting to the cops.

I have learned to roll with things being a theatre person, but seeing a chicken and a gorilla outside Kantner one morning was a little weird. And now using people dressed as animals to train zoo keepers makes me giggle.

Blood Money

With all this talk about tapping alternative resources, I have decided to jump on that bandwagon. Sadly, this does not mean I am driving a little battery-operated SmartCar. Instead, I am capitalizing on my ability to bleed easily.

Like every good college town should, Athens has a plasma donation center. Which means that twice a week, I roll down to BioLife, spend an hour in a curvy chair, listen to the iPod and flip through trashy magazines. And get paid! As long as you don't get the big smelly phlebotomist, things are cool. It doesn't hurt, and it is pretty satisfying to watch the plasma fill up. And the process is kinda cool to watch.

I tried this back in January, but because of scheduling and medications in flux, I wasn't able to donate. I only gave it another chance a couple weeks ago, now that I have free time and a stable medical history. My first donation involved a charming hematoma that only just faded. The big smelly phlebotomist poked me weird, so during the RBC return, my arm started puffing up. The other nurses took care of it superfast. In a quick instant, they removed the needle and iced and elevated it. So not only is this guy smelly, his venipuncture blows. (Another nurse had to correct his work yesterday).

I like doing plasma. Not only is it some income, I also feel like I am helping. It is so easy for me to do something that can make a difference. By the same token, I have no problem donating whole blood, but my type is the only one they have sufficient supply of. (It helps being universal recipient, too). By the same token, I am an organ donor. And if I have the recoup time available, I would do bone marrow. Having read Stiff, I am starting to do a bit more research into options for my beautiful corpse. Which sounds macabre, but it seems like such a waste to just pump it full of chemicals and then stick it in a box in the ground when it could be put to better use. Although, I am still holding out hope for spontaneous combustion, which would just be cool.

Perfection of puppy chow

God bless Cheese Fiend and Mom#2 for introducing me to the wonder and perfection that is puppy chow. Named such because you just want to stick you face in the bowl and shamelessly wolf it down.

First, it's possibly the ultimate crave food. Sweet, savory, crunchy. It's Crispix rolled in semi-sweet chocolate, peanut butter and powdered sugar. So I was super excited when Crispix were on sale, and I had discovered, in the process of moving, that I had the rest of the ingredients already.

Even though it is basically junk food, it is impressively filling. It has upped my hematocrit, and I have (re)discovered that puppy chow makes good diet food. Who knew? For some reason, since I made (and started devouring) my puppy chow, I am able to lose weight AND eat crap. This stuff is awesome!!!

Not all bad

I realise that I whine alot, but things are not all bad. There are pictures like this. And I get to take Bud for a ride in the car and buy him chicken nuggets at the drive-thru. Gomez comes on the radio and we are both happy campers.

Health Insurance

Neither insures your good health, nor is particularly a healthy system.

I have spent most of this summer fighting with my health insurance, trying to get all of my claims paid. Every day at lunch, I got to make yet another phone call. Chasing down paper work and the right people. Right now, I have one doctor all cleared up. And now that my student services are selectively being rescinded, I have to get my prescriptions at Kroger. And the whole $4 thing apparently doesn't apply to me. Grr.

Today, I had to deal with my sleeping sickness. When I tried to fill my prescription last week, they told me I had to run out of my current one first, even though this wasn't a refill. Now they tell me that the script as written is impossible to fill since no such drug exists. Why they couldn't tell me this last week, I don't know. So now I am out of my sleeping sickness medicine. And the only way to get a refill is to wait for snail mail or drive to Lancaster with gas at $4/gallon (all narcolepsy meds are controlled substances). Assuming my doctor ever even calls me back.

As a result of that debacle, I really haven't gotten much done today, since I spent so much time dealing. And of course, my body is back into narcolepsy mode, which makes getting much reading done difficult. It's all really frustrating. But I spent today moping (watched Love Actually) and owning the suck. So tomorrow I make more phone calls and park my ass at Donkey with all my free refills.

Culture penance

To make up for skipping out on Secret Garden, and to make up for the entire lack of TV, I hit the media library hard for some high culture DVDs. Bunch of girlie, period movies, and a BBC documentary called How Art Made the World.

This 5-part series looks at ancient cultures for the origins of art. At first I was totally rapt with the accents and interesting theories. And lots of Greek art. In general, the series is pretty good about relating to modern day. However, as I watched more and more, I realised how frightfully Euro-centric it was. I understand that being government sponsored, you should probably focus on Britain, at least as a grounding example. Yet, Dr. Nigel Spivey only ventured out of Eurasia once, to South Africa, mostly to compare San rock painting to the much older cave paintings in France and Spain. And it is really focused on visual arts, which doesn't really include performing arts. It is thought-provoking, and pretty. But now I feel the need to check out some DVDs on Bunraku or something.

Additionally, I checked out Becoming Jane. While I can't say it was hugely historically accurate (let me tell you about the hairstyles in the last scene - so 1860s, when Austen died in 1819!), it was lovely. I love watching James McAvoy pine. And it was a fun homage to the Austen novels. Also fun - the pop-up video special feature. It makes me want to dig out my BBC Pride and Prejudice.

Gym reject

While I can't say I was burning to bust ass on the machines, I was actually feeling motivated to do some structured cardio (hiking up the hill to the library doesn't count). So I tied on the sneaks, filled the water bottle, sync-ed the iPod. It's way less fun without a gym buddy, since I had no one to complain to when I overcharged the resistance on the machine so it felt like I was walking in hummus (thanks Scrubs!). But when I went to be swiped in, I got turned away! Since I am not registered, I am not allowed to use the gym. Which is crap, since I have been using the gym all summer, and I have library privileges.

I didn't really want to unpack and set up the Wii for just a couple of weeks, but I guess I will have to.

Secret Garden

Yesterday, I felt the need to get some culture, Athens style. I had friends working on OVST's Secret Garden, which was written by Marsha Norman, so I headed over for their matinee.

I was impressed by the number of kids there. Including the wiggly kindergarten set. And while this is a musical based on a children's book, and I love the idea of getting 'em hooked on theater young, I also know that your average 5 year old is not going to want to sit through 2 hours of a musical in the dark.

The production made great use of projections to eliminate the need for excessive set. The blocking was more in keeping with staged reading or concert, but the vocals were good. And the costumes looked good. However, about half way through Act 1, I remembered that a) I hate musicals, and b) I never really liked this book. My mom was horrified. K blamed my preference of Austen to Bronte. I was torn. Do I sit through another 90 minutes of music that isn't particularly inspired and a story filled with whiny brats, or do I be the bad audience member and bail? I hate it when people leave, and I very rarely leave. But I didn't leave until intermission.

I am happy to support the arts and artists. And the production itself wasn't bad. It was the musical itself that was repellent. But I still felt guilty not unlike when I skipped Madness to watch the Cubs in the playoffs.

on Pandora: "Down for So Long" - the Rapture

Squatting

Now that I have moved out of my apartment in Athens, I am alternating between couchsurfing and squatting. With Lil Sis out of town, I have her entire apartment to myself. Got most of the stuff tucked away, but I still need to go through it. By Saturday, I was pretty much just dumping crap into boxes and bins and driving it over. So I need to sort out all of my remaining Athens stuff. Make sure I return all my library books. All in anticipation of my Big Blowout in September. I have already warned my family that when I get back to NoVA, I am dumping all of my earthly belongings in one place (the basement) and I am just going to take a day to sort/cull/pack. This will be my third out-of-state move in 2 years, so all of my stuff has become jumbled. Distance and space has dictated what goes and what stays. And now that distance is at a maximum and space is at a minimum, it is really time to prioritize.

Squatting in a house with no TV kinda blows. Like I could drive over to Smokin' Fairy's place and chill on my couch, but that would be a little weird for his roommate. Besides, sometimes I just want the ambient noise or leisure of lounging on the couch in my jammies flipping channels. All the more time to catch up on my reading list, I suppose.

And here's my other rant. With caveats of course. I move alot. Which is funny, because a) my parents still live in the house they brought me home from the hospital and b) I don't particularly like moving. Besides the whole college/summer thing, when I graduated, I lived in 3 different places the summer in Williamsburg. Then Cheese Fiend and I backpacked and Eurailed for 9 weeks. Parents' house for 3 months. Massachusetts for 3 months. Parents for 3 months. Surrogate parents for 2 months. Random house in Falls Church for 3 months. That was just 2002. In 2003, I moved to Charlottesville. Then I moved IN Charlottesville 3 times (1st apartment, then better apartment, then house to accommodate 3rd roommate). Then Chicago, which involved living out of my car for a couple of weeks. Athens for a year. Now I am still in Athens, squatting in a different apartment for 2 weeks before more backpacking. Then couchsurfing different family members, driving cross country and living in CA for what will hopefully be a while.

OK. So in all the times that I have moved, only 2 people ever helped me move out. Sure, roommates moved their stuff out, but I was always the last one out and the one who moved all my own boxes. Not that I can't do it, just that it sucks. So this time, I had some veritable strangers move 2 pieces of furniture. But all the rest was me and the Civic.

But the exceptions are kind of surprising. One was Mom#2. She helped Cheese Fiend and me move (packing the kitchen, which I HATE), and she helped me move my own crap (PFM was busy with all of Cheese Fiend's books). The other was Kallisti. Who cut out of work early, took the L to my stop, walked the mile from the stop to my house to help pack my car in his nice work clothes in the August heat.

The other part of this is how many times I have schlepped the crap of others.

This isn't to say that people haven't helped me. Mom drove a van of my crap to Athens, and has taken boxes of my crap back to NoVA as a prelude to my moving. She will also be driving me and said crap cross-country. And then there are the siblings who unloaded it, the college roommates who put up with it, and the other roommates who accommodated it.

I think I need to stop moving so much. Or at least stop moving in freakin' August.

Kindness of Strangers

If I ever bitched about the Chicago-Athens via VA move last year, I really should have saved that up for this year.

Right now, I am surrounded by crap to be donated, crap to be packed, and just crap. This week, I have been focused on moving large objects, spending tonight moving the small stuff. It's kinda tricky because I still have to live, so I don't want to pack everything. But at the same time, I don't want to have to pack up again. And with all of my stuff in so many different places it's hard to really organize. The spool is at Smokin' Fairy's; me and half of my Athens stuff will be in Lil Sis' apartment for a couple of weeks. Plus all of the stuff in various basements and attics in Virginia. I won't get a chance to have all of my stuff in one place until September, when I have to re-organize in terms of storage vs what can fit in the Civic to go to California.

Today, I was saved by the kindness of strangers. When all of my friends who I know well enough to ask moving favors from bailed, I was starting to panic about getting the big furniture out. The futon isn't even heavy, but it does require something bigger than a Civic and a second set of hands to get it out of the apartment. Fortunately, the new secretary I am training volunteered her husband and her husband's truck. It took about 5 minutes to load the futon and the spool. I'm not sure what I would have done otherwise. Tomorrow, ReUse is picking up the bed and other junk.

OK. Back to my trash TV as I pack the freshly-washed dishes.

All by Myself

In the course of 2 days, my playmates have abruptly abandoned me. I am pissed. Individually, it's a bummer. Collectively, I have to find a way to keep myself busy for the next 3 weeks, 2 of which I am not even working! And because I promised to help watch Smokin' Fairy's pets, I can't even leave Athens. Oy!

This also means I have to move by myself, which generally sucks. But it also means that I get my choice of places to squat, including an entire apartment, to which I now have Lil Sis' keys. Now I have to rely on my own motivation to go to the gym. And just when I discover a bitchin' bar, I don't have anyone to go with (without looking like some dorky alcoholic).

But I tend to get more work done without people to play with. Maybe with all this damn free time, I will be able to kill more of my reading list, eat less crap, and head to the gym more. And maybe pigs will fly.

on the tube: Cubs v Brewers. 5-1 Cubs @ top of 7th

Couch shuffle

Although not nearly as fun as the Court Street Shuffle (think pub crawl - there are like 32 bars along the strip), the Couch shuffle was pretty entertaining yesterday.

My lease is nearly up, and I am starting to pack and ideally give stuff away. The coffee maker is going to the Green Room, Lil Sis gets the dumpster dive TV, and Smokin' Fairy gets the red couch, which I am very sad to part with. If I could think of a practical way of getting it to CA, it would come with, because it is possibly the most wonderful couch ever. Second only to Comfy Couch in the costume shop at William and Mary, which was a 50s relic of pink velvet. Tucked under the weird ladybug-like blanket, it was like sleeping on a cloud under the window. As long as you didn't think too hard about anyone else who slept on it.

But since Smokin' Fairy is headed to Edinburgh Fringe on the fly, I pressed him into service early. To accommodate schedules, we had to shuffle couches during my lunch yesterday. A bit tricky, since Smokin' Fairy was running amok getting ready and Lil Sis and her toy SUV were sacked out after staying up till 6AM. Red Couch, though a sleeper, moves pretty well. It's heavy and cumbersome, but we were people on a mission without too many corners to negotiate. Got it into Lil Sis' car with the butt hanging out. So I sat on the couch in the car, clinging to the front seat, and Smokin' Fairy drove behind us. In order to make some room for Red Couch and too give me something to sit on for the next few days, we had to move his black IKEA FnF, which is now living in my apt. It's nice and lightweight (gotta love IKEA), and now vacuumed and Febreezed. But of course, there is still dog-hair. It looks kinda funny in my living room, since it is considerably smaller than red couch. But still pretty butt-friendly. So there were 2 girls, 2 boys, 2 couches, and one very helpful dog trying to negotiate space.

When I finally move out of my apartment this weekend, Smokin' Fairy's living room is going to turn into Festival du Couch (my red one, his black IKEA one, plus the white dog couch). Which, per Lil Sis' suggestion, will involve beer.

Now to finish packing the crap I can't give away.

on Pandora: "Fake Tales of San Francisco" - Arctic Monkeys

TOAST!

So I just had a bit of a manic moment. I don't have enough of these anymore. High school and college were always good for it. And to celebrate/proclaim my immaturity, I called Spamber. Who voluntarily lived with me for 2 years without killing me. Which meant I knew she could handle the crazy.

(A quick Spamber story - she has always been the ultimate elementary teacher. After a couple scoops of Coffee Coffee Buzz Buzz Buzz at one of the THREE Ben & Jerry's scoop shops in the Burg, I was making mad-cow noises at tourons as we drove through CW. Spamber put on the childproof locks after having another roommate extricate my face from the window. When we got out of the car, she put me in time out. I wasn't allowed in the apartment until I could stand still for 10 seconds. She made me do laps around the apartment complex. I love her.)

Got home from a quick errand at the Kro and realised it was half-past snack time. I needed coffee, and have recently rediscovered the wonders of toast. Knocked out 2 slices no problem. Ate a third (all with marmalade). And had to convince myself not to eat the rest of the loaf, crispy and smeared in sticky orange goodness. So I called Spamber and screamed TOAAAAASSSSSST when she had the misfortune of not screening her calls.

Dude was totally accurate in his assessment of my toaster, which makes excellent toast. Crispy on the outside, with a nice soft core that can be dented with some more serious butter application. Yum!

Mamma Mia

A movie that combines ABBA, Greek scenery, hotties and Meryl Streep might as well have my name on it.

Last night, Lil Sis and I saw Mamma Mia, which was such a fun movie. I don't think I have laughed that hard at a movie since Little Miss Sunshine. There was also much shrieking at some of the reveals and most things involving Colin Firth. The movie seemed to be very aware of its own potential/permission for camp+silly+sequins. It looked like everyone involved was having a great time, super-tanned from all that dancing on Greek islands. It was gorgeous. I want my 30th birthday party to be like her hen party, complete with Pierce Brosnan and Colin Firth and the performance by Donna and the Dynamos. That or the white party from Marie Antoinette.

I can't wait for it to come out on DVD, because it is one of those rainy-day gems. I had already discovered the power of ABBA to get me dancing and laughing after a bad day (LOLcats is also useful). And hot people, ideally acting silly, always makes things better.

PS. Poll - what do you think of Meryl Streep as an actress? I am trying to make a point to Smokin' Fairy

Lunchtime yoga

In theory = brilliant. In reality = doh

Instead of the usual lunch break, which consists of surfing, standing at the refrigerator only to end up licking peanut butter off a spoon, and the occasional picking up of crap strewn the night before, I tried something different today. I went to my yogadownload.com podcast for the 20minute hip-opener class.

I love these podcasts. Most of them involve slides of the different poses, since they can have different names depending on the instructor, style or location. Also, I can do it in my underwear. At my house at lunch. Or 3AM, which was always fun during the school year. And when I inevitably topple over, there is no one there to laugh at me. Nothing says zen like "Oh crap" and then crashing into the spool or something.

The actual lesson was ok. It was only audio, so it took me a second to remember what eagle pose was. But damn did I work up a sweat. Probably because the AC needs a new filter, and I refuse to crank it only during lunch. And apparently my hips needed opening more than usual, because I am extra chewy, even a bit wobbly. So my butt has to compensate, which made the walk back to work kinda funny. I'm sure the old guy who calls me Smiley got a chuckle.

Also, because of all that deep breathing I am bit too relaxed. Fortunately, I have refills on the SITD. But I need to sit a bit while my butt/hips recover.

on Pandora: "Just can't get enough" - Depeche Mode

Bad coffee day

I have gotten used to bad hair days (straight usually looks dirty, and short on me frequently looks unsymmetrical, flipping on one side and curling on the other). Now that my hair is starting to grow back, I just clip it back. (And actually, humidity looks surprisingly cute on my hair, giving it volume and some cute curls)

Bad coffee days on the other hand are really debilitating. You can't cover a bad coffee day with a hat. Woke up this morning feeling extra groggy, so I trudged up to Donkey for my usual Shot in the Dark with chocolate (small in a large cup to minimize spillage and maximize on caffeine, preferably light roast). But when I took my first sip at work, it just didn't taste right. Not enough chocolate? Burned espresso? I dunno. So I tried sugar-cream, but the cream is the powdered stuff, which just made bad coffee taste all chemical-y. Given that I was having problems keeping my eyes open and the only shirt I was willing to wear today was the snarky W&M shirt (chest stripe on the front, snark on the back), I knew that today was not the day to skip the coffee. So I went back to Donkey, used the free coffee I earned, and things are going better. Fortunately, my co-workers either sympathize with my bad coffee day or find it amusing.

I have a couple more sips to get in me before I am ready to tackle the monster copy project I have this week. It's oddly zen, once you get into the groove, but it requires enough caffeine to keep things in order, including the copy machine, which has been known to give me attitude.

on Pandora: "Dead Disco" - Metro

It's getting hot in here

Overall, it's been a pretty tame summer. Not outrageously hot/humid. Regular June afternoon storms. But this past week has been extra toasty. Like I have had the AC running non-stop for about 4 days, which for me, is unusual because I am an AC miser. (I try to turn it off over night or when I'm at work).

Smokin' Fairy prides himself on living without AC. And while I have done it (3 years in the unACed dorms in swampy Williamsburg will test the patience and deodorant of the best), the fact that I have it is mighty nice.

Yesterday, I tried reading outside in the sun, but barely lasted 30 minutes before I felt like I was melting into a puddle of sweat. It's been so hot, it's hard to get inspired to do much but lounge on the couch and pull chilly pillowcases out of the freezer. (I once babysat 2 girls who liked to put their nighties in the freezer, which seems a bit hardcore for me, but the pillowcase can be nice). And it's so hot even the animals are lazy. Catface has her spot under the neighbor's truck. Bud just pants like crazy, usually in the general direction of whatever you are eating. And Crazy squirrel, who is way to tame to be a squirrel, and who kinda freaks out Lil Sis, has taken to draping himself (herself?) over the wooden rail of the apartment building, pressing his/her butt up against the wall.


It reminds me of the squirrels who would spontaneously flatten themselves on the white pebbly pavement on Capitol Hill during the July that I worked up there. It looked like they were hit by imaginary cars.

I'm waiting for a storm to come through and cool things off at least a little bit. Or at least enough that a walk to the library or Donkey does not instantly necessitate a shower.

Gym buddy

Both Lil Sis and I have decided that we need to go to the gym more. Or at all. She's getting married in a few months, and I have a loving relationship with Ben & Jerry. And since it's the summer, there is no one at the gym! We don't have to fight for equipment or avoid the glares of the tanorexics and gym rats (although OU will never be as bad as the UVA set).

I have never had a gym buddy before, and I have always heard good things. About positive peer pressure and such. It's much harder to say no when there is someone else willing to go or suggesting to go, or expecting you to go. Because suddenly you become the bigger slacker. However, even more fun is having someone to talk to. Ideally about inappropriate topics like gyn appointments or something equally awkward.

This works in a gym setting because of the weird social contract that dictates that when you are on equipment with your iPod or magazine, you are invisible. Not unlike the iPod cloak of invisibility on public transit. But the beauty of the gym is that there is space to make an impression and then move on. While I would never dream of discussing inappropriate topics in public, watching boys blush to the backs of their legs as their butts clench in discomfort is just too funny. This makes me a bad person, but it makes the gym way more appealing.

Also, I have discovered my cardio machine of choice. It's like an elliptical with arms. And a personal fan. So besides being a less awkward than the gazelle and more intense and smooth than the elliptical, I get cool air blown at me as I sweat (I know, I'm a girl, I should glisten. I don't.)

That's on the agenda for today. After I do dishes and charge up the iPod. And think of some more awkward things to discuss with Lil Sis.

on the tube: Cubs v Astros on WGN (bottom of the 6th, Cubs up)

Dark Knight

Just damn cool.

Dark Knight has been on my radar since last summer when I saw all the trailers and covered vehicles on Franklin on my way home. And all I have heard ahead has been exultant. So when Athena Grand scheduled a midnight show, I got my ticket early.

In retrospect, seeing a 2.5hr movie at midnight when I had to be at work before 8 the next day was not my most brilliant move, but the movie was so damn cool, I can't say I actually regret it. I thought it was just going to be A. and me, but it turned into all of OVST and more people than I knew Athens had in July. Like I got there early at 11PM, and it was already packed! No real line or logic. And sadly, the crowd was just a bit cooler-than-thou or just apathetic, because I saw only one mask, no capes and not much actually excitement. Probably because Athens isn't exactly known for its nightlife options, especially during the week.

The movie was dark, twisty and very sleek. And extra special fun since it was shot in Chicago, so I got to play the "Where was that shot" game. Apparently both Wanted and Dark Knight were big fans of the same stretch of Halsted. Now I want to see Wall-E (Lil Sis and Smokin' Fairy loved it and want to see it again. I want to cheer for Atlee). And Mamma Mia, despite the crap I will inevitably incur from Kallisti.

on Pandora: "Impossible Germany" - Wilco

Return of the playmates

June in Athens without anyone to play with can be really bleak. There is only so much reading/video games you can do. It was good to lose a little weight and save some money instead of going out, but it was painfully dull.

But two of my favorite people to play with have returned to Athens! Which is why my entries have been a bit sparse of late. Lil Sis got back after the 4th of July and Smokin' Fairy got back on Monday.

Being geeks of a feather, Lil Sis and I have indulged our mutual geekness, by renting Moliere and playing alot of DDR. Which is best accompanied by red wine. We drove to Parkersburg on Friday to run an errand and enjoy something more closely resembling a city. Which pretty much boiled down to eating at Olive Garden and shopping. Because it is mad sale time and they have a Borders. There was much excitement. And for Lil Sis - vanilla latte.

Last night, Smokin' Fairy and I went classic. Cheeseburgers at Red Brick, then rented Batman Begins to watch at home and snark at. Which is tough, since it is a really cool movie. But after my 2 beers and some ice cream, I found this much easier.

Playmates also means that I haven't done laundry lately, which required some creative "professional" dressing this morning. So I guess I will be at the laundromat instead of the gym tonight.

on Pandora: "Flutter" - Bonobo

Resident expert

I love it when people ask me for information. Mostly because I usually either have the answer or can find it. And I am total sucker for trivia.

So when Spamber texted looking for a Chik-Fil-A in Charlottesville, I promptly called her back with landmark-based directions. And when she started describing what she was driving past, I knew exactly where she was (Taco Hell on 5th Ext).

I shouldn't know this, well at least not as readily. I know I lived there for 3 years, but it's been 2 years since I left. And based on my quicky trip a couple weeks ago, lots has changed. (No more Order From Horder makes me really sad).

It was pretty funny. In the same way that knowing which train line was featured on Wanted (it's the Brown line). Or how my brain can just default navigate Chicago, or home-in (ala pigeon) on the fam in NJ, regardless of where I'm coming from. It's not so much that I drive these paths that often or recently. Or that I have a particularly good sense of direction (it took the combined powers of both Cheese Fiend and me to navigate Europe).

tunage: "Crossing Boundaries" from WOUB/NPR

Office environment

Because of the nature of the services my temp gig provides (job placement and training), I work in a very supportive environment. Very positive, complimentary. I recommend everyone work in a place like this at least once.

Also, this gig has made me learn about some of the more sophisticated functions of MS Office. I always knew it was capable of making my life easier. And once I thoroughly conquered it, it was pretty cool. I love merges! Especially when the other option is filling out 92 forms by hand. The only thing better is the look of sheer amazement on my boss's face.

And despite the different environment, I have learned that some office personalities are universal. I have the person who I kid around with, the person who loves bureaucracy, the person who knows this is just a job.

And temp work helps me maintain my flexibility and chameleon. But I bet in a few months, I will be really happy not to be keeping normal business hours.

(I promise to write a more interesting entry later. With pictures.)

The Printer is my Nemesis

For the past 2 days, I have been locked in battle with all objects responsible for printing. They are the bane of my existence and rapidly driving me to drink. If a dinky ink-jet won't print an envelope without first jamming, then throwing a lights-n-sound hissy, how could I expect the big machine to do it? I have been trying to talk pretty at it, hand-feeding it envelopes. I am willing to accept misbehaving computers, because much more is asked of them than freakin' printers. And when I try to print something on letter-size, I suddenly get 25 copies. I hate wasting paper because technology is getting fussy. It's probably the humidity, which is so thick, it feels like swimming to work.

At least there is DDR and red wine at home.

Moldy muffin

What a bad omen for a Monday.

Last week, I got a little domestic. Did a bunch of cooking, used up a bunch of food. And made a batch of berry oat muffins. I think I kinda overloaded them with healthy-goodness because they were not as muffin-tasty as I would hope. But they were portable, healthy, and they filled the tank.

This morning, as usual, I stuck a muffin the the baggie and walked to work. Busted that out, took one bite and discovered that in all of its moistness, it had gotten moldy. Dammit! Then the laminator ate my project, which required minor paper-clip surgery.

Needless to say, it's just no good. Lunch isn't for another 2 hours, during which I have to wrestle an email data merge, purchasing shenanigans, and trying to ignore asshats. Oy.

on Pandora - "Walking in My Shoes" - Depeche Mode

Fourth of July

Without a doubt, Fourth of July is one of my favorite holidays. Unlike Christmas, which I do like, but it's just such an Event. 4th of July is, by design, a leisurely day. Most people have the day off, even in the middle of the week. You get to wake up late, loll around the house/beach/yard. You get to hang out with friends or whoever you choose in a really low-pressure scene that usually involves a grill, alcohol, and the occasional water sport. And of course, fireworks.


I am a total 5-year old when it comes to fireworks. I make the goofiest noises, jump up and down and am generally gleeful. And up until this year, never was able to enjoy both explosives AND beer. The entire HRF costume shop was crowded on to Domestic God's upstairs deck, which has the perfect view of the Scottsville fireworks. Drinking beer, smelling fried chicken, hanging with a bunch of equally fun people. There is something about theatre people, that you don't need to be part of their specific group. If you are part of the larger group, somehow, it's just cool. I just fit in. The way 4th of July should be.

Driving zen

It's been a while since I did a real roadtrip. And driving from Athens to Charlottesville yesterday kinda hit the spot.

I love driving. Preferably fast. And ideally on fun roads. So being able to fly across the mountains of West Virginia was very satisfying. Being forced to drive the speed limit for fear of an exorbitant speeding ticket wasn't. Today, I got to drive up 20S, which is one of my favorite stretches of pavement to drive, along with the LSD.

Driving gives me a chance to spin my wheels, in every sense. I get to enjoy owning a little speedy Honda. And it gives me a chance to let the bees buzz around in my bonnet. But at the same time, I feel in control, because I am behind the wheel as opposed to fruitlessly obsessing and being stuck on the couch. OCD is just not pretty, but at least when it's in the car, it moves at 70mph, so it just looks like a blur.

Chicago movies

I had seen the ads for Wanted for weeks now, and in case I didn't love Angelina Jolie enough, James McAvoy is in it (he's new on my to-do list). And then, looking closer, I could have sworn they were riding the L in Chicago.



So when I saw it on Sunday I found out it was so totally Chicago. Which I should have remembered from all the April/August hoopla. But it was funny to see him coming out of his apartment on Clark, 2 blocks south of Wrigley Field and 2 blocks east of Redmonds and Sheffields (Redmonds = wings, Sheffields = best beer garden). Lots of local shots, driving down Lake under the L. I felt cool by association, especially since I love me some transit-surfing, admittedly not as hardcore, but still. I have also decided I need some wicked tats. And go to the gym and learn how to do smoky eye makeup. Because I want to be badass too. (And those scenes not shot in Chicago were shot in one of my other favorite cities - Prague!)

My movie-buddy and I spent the ride home checking the Cubs score (he grew up outside Chicago), and then pledged to see Dark Knight, which looks awesome. And mucked up my commute home for the entire month of August.

Accidentally cool

It almost never happens, but when it does, oh it is sweet.

At my temp gig, I have been working on the monthly newsletter in Publisher, a program I have never worked with. I've generally been winging it, with impressively good results. Not only does it look awesome, I also figured out how to make it the pretty HTML email newsletter they have lusted after for months. Which only cements my position as awesome in their eyes.

Yesterday, I walked over to Athens Book Center to snag some stripped magazines for the lobby. But of course, as soon as I left the store, it started raining. Again. Hard. That kinda pissed me off, because I walked over, trying to be a good person. I mean, it was shitty that it started raining when I was walking home for lunch, but at least I could quickly change into dry clothes. Yesterday was only saved by a few rounds of Wii Boxing and Ben & Jerry's Brownie Cheesecake ice cream.

Sorry the blog has been extra lame lately. But it just reflects the general lame that is my life of late.

Fashion faux paz

Nothing says sharp, professional or elegant quite like my all black. I've got on a ruched black tank, subtly striped black pants. I look hardcore. Except for my bright yellow undies poking out the back where the tank scoots up. Doh!

At least it matches the bright yellow sweater I brought to keep off the chill.

on Pandora: "Ain't No Good" - Cake

Odd recommendation

As I begin tying up loose ends in Athens, I have been making phone calls to the utilities and such, balancing checkbook (I like to jump with as clean a slate as possible).

I called to check on my electric budget, and to see if I could adjust before leaving. Ended up talking to a customer service agent, who was both helpful and personable. My budget is pretty much based on the usage by last year's tenant. But generally, I run way under the budget. Mostly because it's just me, and I am a total miser. I can't justify running the AC for just me, unless I am having allergy problems or feel not only warm but disgusting. The woman laughed and said I would make some man very happy as his wife. *snerk*

I feel like I should add that to some marriage resume of sorts. She can be a reference. I can list my mad grocery shopping skills and ability to read a map (and on a good day, fold one). I know how to change spark plugs. Sadly, I am rather graceless in heels, and I get styling aids stuck in my hair. So much for that one!

Wii!!

Now, you can't say it like "wee" as in Scottish for small ala "wee bairn". You have to say it like "Whee!!!" - the sound you make when you bike down a hill or through a huge puddle.

For graduation, I bought myself a Wii. Because nothing says higher education quite like video games. I paid for it using money I that is no longer designated as car payment in my ledger. Because as of May, I had paid off my Civic! I also bought this as consolation prize for not working Semester at Sea, instead opting to temp in Athens. Now, Athens is a lovely town, but damn is it dull! So it's just been me and Wii.

I am getting better at Wii tennis, even though I still haven't learned the scoring system. Baseball would be more fun if I could throw something other than a fastball. (Watching lots of Cubbie-ball has taught me terms like breaker, slider, split, etc). But I LOVE Boxing. I still haven't lost a match. Mostly because I am ferocious, with absolutely no strategy. And it's a great work-out that is way more entertaining than running.

I also found a cheap copy of Rayman's Raving Rabbids, which has me laughing out loud on a regular basis. "Bunnies like disco dancing" is totally my favorite - big surprise. I wish I could explain it, but really, it's delightfully silly, and that's about the best I can do.

(dude, it's a bunny with a plunger!)

Borrowed some of Smokin' Fairy's GameCube games, although really, I have only been playing MarioKart. Because I like nonsensical racing games, and the sound Paratrooper makes when he's happy.

Currently coveting Wii Fit and Rock Band. But these are expensive, impossible to find, and just more equipment to fit into MY Civic in September. But anything to alleviate the boredom.

on Pandora: "Missing" - Everything But the Girl

Loafin' Like a Pro

I blame it on the Mondays. I actually did work at work, which was good, but somewhere along the afternoon, the mood tanked, I looked down and saw that I was wearing the cranky pants. Came home and took a nap, thinking the moody was the "marissa needs to go down for a nap". When that didn't work, I inhaled a candy bar. Well that didn't work.

I pretty much entirely gave in. Returned a bunch of stuff to the library, and have since been pretty much parked on the couch. Which I now moved into the middle of the living room so that I can simultaneously loaf on the couch AND play Mario Kart Double Dash. I'm in jammies and the big sweater Cheese Fiend made me, ignoring the dishes that need to be done. I gave in and had a happy meal for dinner, the remains of which litter the spool. I can honestly say that i feel alot better now that I am completely embracing the disgusting/loafing/whatnot.

Healthy habits can resume tomorrow. Although, I think B&J is on sale...

Freaking out the animals

This one is random, but after hearing two items to the same effect, I had to share.

All of these floods are freaking out the animals. In the midwest, the rivers are so swollen, and currents so strong that the carp are totally flipped and now hugging the edge. To the point where, if you were dumb enough to stand at the edge of a raging river, you could reach out and touch the carp. Just what they need - a human petting them - in case they weren't sufficiently stressed. (as reported on NPR)

And then this morning, the front page picture/article covers the devastating typhoon in the Phillippines. But the picture isn't your usual people on makeshift rafts, but rather pigs fleeing the flood. I don't know what panicked pork is like, but I imagine it can't be good.

(from msnbc.com)

Dumpster Diving

I will say that staying in Athens after everyone else has cleared out does have its perks. Admittedly, it did take a bit of getting used to.

I live in party-central. Which starts clearing out pretty much as soon as classes are over, and is completely empty by the Sunday after graduation. Hell, even that Saturday was kinda eerily quiet. Like if I saw a tumbleweed blow across Mill, I wouldn't even be surprised.

So now, the only people in my neighborhood are me and the people forced to clean up the disaster areas left by the undergrads. A truly unenviable job. But it's quiet and dark. There are no lines anywhere and abundant parking! Unfortunately, the library is on super-restricted hours.

But oh the dumpster diving! A scavenger by nature, this was a very exciting weekend. One yard was the designated dumping ground for all nasty couches. (Not everything can be as swanky as the rich kids' trash in Hoo-ville.) It was mostly super-disgusting trash, but I got a 19" TV someone didn't want to schlep. And I have my eye on a propane grill. Both of which will stay in Athens when I leave, but will make my summer much nicer. (OK, while I love the taste of a charcoal grill, it is a waste for just one person, and I am entirely too impatient to wait for the coals to get the right color/temperature).

And with the gorgeous weather of late, I am able to leave all the doors and windows open, play MY music really loud, and generally enjoy some downtime. The next task it to find playmates.

on the iPod: "Higher Ground" - Red Hot Chili Peppers

new normal

*Yawn*
Today is the first real day of work at my current temp gig, which is scheduled to run for 3-4 weeks, leaving me off right around 4th of July. It's been about 6 months since I did office work fulltime, so it's a bit of an adjustment.

Let me tell you what I think of being at work at 7.45AM. And what I think of having left my cup of coffee on the stove. Right now, I just wish Donkey delivered. A nice tall Shot in the Dark with a pump of chocolate. And maybe a bourbon bar. Especially because my body just wasn't buying the 11.30 bedtime crap.

I can't complain but so much since the office is a 5-minute walk from my house, which means I can go home for lunch or walk to Court Street. I am the transition admin, but I have been given free rein to reorganize everything as I see fit. Woot! Sadly, I am not allowed to surf the internet during our usually quiet days. Still have to work on that, and ideally some book-reading. Must bring iPod and speakers at least. And a book of sudoku. It's days and jobs like this where my efficiency can be a liability.

But it's something to keep me busy while all of my friends are away and until the Wii arrives.

Graduation - the details

Now that Athens has emptied out, peace reigns, giving me the chance to think more clearly.

Graduation was pretty intense. I am only now really recovering and processing.
I got out of work a bit early on Thursday, which gave me a jump on cleaning up my apartment for my guests. Washed a mountain of dishes, cleaned the bathroom, packed up a bunch of winter clothes and books for my parents to take home. Dug out the clean sheets. Domestic God and J. got into Athens after 10, and we were up generally shooting the shit till quite late.

Which was unfortunate, since we had to be up mighty early. Everyone had to be showered, dressed and assembled at the Convo at 8.30 to meet Domestic God's fam. But part of that involved multiple attempts to remove the wrinkles from the extra-chitzy robes. Hanging for a week only removed the plasticky funk. Taking them into the bathroom during a hot shower does nothing. The hand-steamer couldn't put a dent in it. Domestic God, the newest costume tech MFA, then hosed his down with wrinkle release, which couldn't touch it. So we hung the gown outside while we sipped tea/coffee.

(girls fussing over Dr. J)

Spent a while waiting in the heat, being steamed in our crappy gowns, watching everyone else fighting with their hoods, as I choked on my tassel. We didn't actually process into the over-ACed Convo Center for an hour, which gave us lots of time to find new ways to amuse ourselves. Lots of sexy scholar pix, playing with our silly sleeves and such.

(lookie - we're seals!)

The ceremony was long, dull, but unlike the audience, we couldn't escape as readily. Amazing CoFA wasn't the last to be called. There were only 5 of us walking from Theater. But the announcer was pretty amazing, especially with all the ethnic names. Cross stage, shake hands, try not to trip, get paper saying "Your diploma will be mailed once we verify that you have completed all of the requirements." Oy.

Had to find the fam in the crowd, which is always a fun challenge. Hiked across the grass to the reception in a really pretty rotunda. They served WANGS, which made me happy. Mostly I was happy to be able to pee. So I unloaded all the crap out of my sleeves (camera, phone, "Sunny D," sunglasses. Although that still isn't as memorable dashing into the bathroom as we began to process (I was at the very end of the line). Kept smacking myself with my sleeves, trying to put my hood over my shoulder as I did a catholic-school pee, when Lil Sis runs in screaming that we are on the move. Which induced an unnecessary panic, since we still had quite ways to travel.

Steak with the fam. Mmm steak. Drove back from Parkersburg to hang out with my guests, which mostly consisted of us loafing on the couch, watching Indiana Jones on USA, eating cake and ice cream before totally passing out.

It was a great weekend, seeing people, eating well, and snarking in silly regalia. But in a moment of poetry, I have finalised my housing at UCSB this weekend.

Now I must create a new normal, if only temporarily, for this summer.

on the tube: the Tony Awards.
(I feel a little part of it, if only being part of the Chicago theater scene that supported August: Osage County before it became a phenomenon - even if Steppenwolf wouldn't let me have tickets.)

Graduation - a quickie

I got up early. I sweltered. I walked. I sat. I ate. Cake. And bed.

Last Thursday at the Gator

As the end of the school year rapidly approaches, the work has decreased, and the population of Martini Night has increased. Lil Sis and I met Riff at the Gator for a last supper of sorts (appropriate for a Thursday night) and watched people trickle in.

It was mildly disturbing when a stream of shufflers staggered in, covered in sharpie and bleach-blondeness. While I am not exclusive about the Gator, they did seem out of place in the more lounge-like Gator where all the artsy people hang out, they don't have anything "on tap" and the floors aren't sticky. Their uniformity was also kinda creepy. All the girls were dressed exactly alike, with tick-marks for each bar, and a couple of offensive things scrawled across them. I can't say I helped the situation when I put my sharpie on the table, a temptation that one of the playwright's just couldn't resist.

(looking very pleased with his handiwork)

While the 3 of us had come for dinner, one of the stage managers brought a sheet cake to celebrate all of the June birthdays, of which there are a hell of a lot. We didn't have candles, but like good theatre people, we improvised with what we did have. The cake was over-the-top sweet, and as Guy Smiley pointed out, even tasted pink. But in a strange way, it went well with all of the girly drinks we all ordered.

(me, a birthday boy, a stage manager and a grasshopper martini)

It was a blast seeing all the different populations of theatre people at the bar. Although I did really want to smash my drink over one of the IART PhD turds when he said he was really interested in the feminist point of view, which is extra offensive given his behavior in class towards the women. Oh well.

Now I am spending the first of many lame Saturday nights at home in the jammers. Rented movies in the background, currently writing a paper.

on Pandora: "Love Me Like You" - Magic Numbers

Depositing

The word has so many connotations, all of which delight me in terms of my thesis.

Today was the official deposit deadline for your thesis. The electronic age kinda sucks some of the fun out of that one, because you just whip off an email with attachment instead of plunking down 20lbs of thesis on a counter at McKee. But thesis deposit. It's like gold deposit. Something valuable, hidden, waiting to be discovered by more than the 5 people who have read it. Deposit like a bank. Put something valuable into storage until it accumulates interest and you use it as capital for something else, like a job or credentials.

Or my favorite. Deposit, like dump, like shit. Which seems to hint at its origins much more closely. While I love the notion that my thesis is valuable, I still recall moments, evenings, hours where I felt like I was just laying bullshit on the page. Along with the "I can't believe they are buying this bullshit." Followed closely by "I can't believe I wrote/believe my own bullshit." Usually accompanied by a "I bullshit pretty well."

In the meantime, the gowns are airing so they smell slightly less like plastic and more like my Oust fan, which they have been locked up with. At first I was pissed, because the regalia looks just like my BA stuff. Till I noticed the pointies! Pointy sleeves. Pointy hood. Think elf-pointy. It just makes me crave my doctoral tam all the more.

Step away from the feminism

After spending weeks dealing with the practicalities of my thesis, I am finally able to get back to my feminist theory independent study. I love theory! It's fun to wrap my brain around. Or find humor in the profundity, accidental or deliberate. Helene Cixous' "Laugh of the Medusa" was just brilliant and deliciously snarky towards the end. Ask her what she thinks about penis envy!

But I think I might be a little to into it given my reaction to this:


Driving back from the sleep doctor (who wants to give me drugs to help me sleep better, which last time I checked, I was pretty damn good at already), I saw this sign and it made me all uppity.

1. Why would the egg want to be eaten?
2. Egg = Ovum = Symbol of female
3. Egg/Female only aspires to be commodified, consumed and physically transformed into something unrecognizable, but uniformly acceptable.
4. Can't the egg/female aspire to greater things than serving someone else's needs?
5. Egg wants to stay in the kitchen - bad feminist egg.
6. Why does the mean get to be on top? Is this about male dominance?
   

I quickly also added to that list, "since when are eggs sentient enough to dream let alone know about McDonalds?". I then reminded myself that it was a food product and a freakin' billboard.

Screw the Egg. Pass the Elin Diamond, please.

PS. I just saw an ad for freakin' dishwashers using tango.

Stormy

All of the sudden it's very quiet. But storm season is upon us. I remember during VSF, without fail, it would storm at 4PM. It was practically a cue to start to finish projects and clean up. When I was working last summer, it was a bit more inconvenient, since it wasn't always done storming by the time I had to wait for the bus at 4.30. Right now, as I sit in my little 2-window apartment, I very much miss my room in Chicago with the wall-o-window and skylight that made storms so much more sensory. The tin roof here is a nice touch, but I can't here it from my bed, and nowhere in my apartment provides the amazing vista of a rainstorm that my Chicago room did. And as a bonus, I could see the Hancock Tower light up. Although I remember watching lightning from the Geek's room, overlooking mountains, which was also pretty spectacular.

Instead I sit and read my radical feminism while my socks, shoes and jeans dry in the bathroom from the drenching 3 feet between Lil Sis' car and my door. And I wait for it to stop raining enough for me to take my trash out without having to change every stitch of clothing all over again.

Also making me a bit homesick - Wing Nite. BW3 has Wing Nite on Tuesdays, like Redmonds, but it's pricier, the service blows, and it just isn't as tasty. And they don't have 312 on tap or the Cubs game within earshot. *sigh*

My owwie

It's been a while since I had a good bloody wound that involves neosporon (like skin glue lite) and multiple band-aids. Right now I am gimping around and admiring my newest scar-in-progress. Partially because I am letting it breathe/scab over. Partially because I am pissed that I am out of fun band-aids. And partially because I am weird like that.

Like most of my wounds, this was totally the result of my own dumbassed over-confidence. Swinging from vines and such. And once again, freakin' bricks were my downfall. Literally. Like Williamsburg, Athens is partially paved in locally-made brick. Which makes it photogenic, but a total wreck on your car's struts and my ability to walk in heels. I am not new to the brick-walking, and most of the time, I handle myself well. Athens adds the challenge of hills. And O'Betty's. So after a fun night at the Gator, after seeing Inherit the Whole, I kinda bit it.

Saturday night was remarkable for a couple of reasons, including my failure to remain vertical. It was a different crowd at the bar, including my professor (who never comes out, but should), some actors, Lil Sis. I think there were only 3 rounds, which was enough to have my professor offer to introduce me to Jill Dolan, Lil Sis to mingle with apparent strangers, Woolly Willy to defend his taste in rap music and me to crave even more O'Betty's. I cleared my tab and headed over for some fries. Then I walked home. But not without falling.

(apparently I wasn't the only one doing some falling down)

So I landed good and hard on my left knee because I caught my left heel in the bricks, because I wasn't focused on the act of walking downhill on bricks in my shoes. (Which get so many compliments, and are still totally walkable!) I felt like the drunk sorority girls we all make fun of. But I managed to take a knee and still not drop a fry. And I walked home with both my shoes on, thank you. It wasn't until I got home that I realised the damage. And because of my stupid knee, I missed out on the post-party, which apparently was extra-festive.

I will have a nice knee scar to add to the collection. Because it wouldn't be life experience without a physical souvenir. Right now the wickedly bruised patella hurts more than the cut and scrapes. But tomorrow, I am so heading to the CVS for more fun band-aids.

on Pandora: "Incinerate" - Sonic Youth

Titus Fives

Themed fives tend to be the most fun. After drooling over the Julie Taymor book at last week's fives, we decided to have a viewing of Titus, which became the theme of the week. First, if you haven't seen Titus, sign-off right now and rent it. It's BRILLIANT! Amazing visuals and creative storytelling.
For a while, Titus was going to happen at my house, but Rardin, with its grill and big TV was available. The only problem with the grill at Rardin, besides its propensity for catching on fire, it is placed right under a tree that sheds. Which meant that I held an umbrella over Riff while she basted the cherryaki chicken. I have discovered that as our numbers dwindle, the quality of food has really gone up. We have moved beyond burgers and dogs (which are always yummy) to chicken, gourmet bacon burgers, bruschetta, etc. For my contribution, I brought homemade deviled eggs and key lime pie. Because if there is Titus, there must be pie. Lil Sis brought cherry pie with vanilla ice cream and kahlua, after a pie-crisis at the Kro.

We watched the movie in fits and starts, mostly broken up by the next thing to come off the grill. It was fun to play with people, and to discover who will still be in town over the summer.

on the Tube: Rockies @ Cubs, bottom of the 4th.

I am a Master!

Unofficially, of course.

I'm mildly surprised that I have only now gotten around to blogging this. Partially because I wanted a little bit of distance from the thesis. Partially because the whole thing was surprisingly anticlimactic.

After a week fighting with my thesis, racing around, getting it all finished, I finally I submitted my thesis to my committee two Fridays ago. Pulled an all-nighter, raced around Kantner getting it printed, punched and submitted with Lil Sis. I wish I could say I went out and celebrated, but really, I just crashed until I had to ush.

The following Tuesday was my defense. Call me arrogant, but I can't say it caused me much concern. The hard part is the writing. I can bullshit and charm much more readily. Lil Sis and I had lunch and coffee together. Sat in on her defense. Had a brief moment of panic when I realised that I didn't have a hard copy of my thesis in my bag. So between defenses, I made a quick copy. The defense went pretty well. I was able to elaborate on my research. And now I have a list of even more things I want to do with it. But I will leave that for the dissertation.

There were congratulations, and some nice compliments (people didn't expect 1-year MAs to be able to compose such good theses).

Now, I just have to finish the rest of my classes. I get to go back to reading theory and loafing around with way less guilt.