Pretty sure that doesn't work anymore.

So I was at home last week for the Christmas holiday and I was set to work in the kitchen making baked goods galore (I think I made 4 dozen Christmas cookies, a pan of chocolate chip cookie bars which were really good, I'll put the recipe below, and a gluten free cheesecake). I was looking for the baking powder and my mom supplied me with a tin that looked like she may have picked it up at the antique mall instead of the grocery store.

"What is this?" I asked her
"I thought you wanted Baking Powder" she answered
"I'm pretty sure this is older than I am," I said, looking around the tin for a "use by" date. I didn't find the use by date (because it was made before those were popular), but I did find the "packaged on" date. December 1976. Yep. The same age as my 33 year old sister.

The thing that I think is more impressive/disturbing than my mom being unable to use a small tin of baking powder in 33 YEARS is the fact that this tin has moved with her through 3 states (Illinois, Missouri, to Virginia) and at least 4 houses. Maybe 5. Think about that the next time you're moving and you need to decide what to keep and what to throw away...maybe the baking powder can stay behind. I'm pretty sure they're going to have baking powder at the grocery store in the town to which you're moving. I'm also pretty sure they're going to have it 33 years in the future.

That said, I am my mother's daughter, proven by the medicine I found from 2006 in my medicine basket yesterday...which has moved with me from Charlottesville, back to DC, then to my apartment in downtown Columbus, and finally out to my apartment in the 'burbs. Glass houses, stones, etc.

Oh, and for the recipe of these cookie bars -- they end up basically just tasting like soft cookie dough:
Cook Time: 30 minutes
Ingredients:
1/2 cup butter
1 1/2 cups graham cracker crumbs (about 8 crackers crushed up)
1 can (14 ounces) sweetened condensed milk
1 pkg (6 ounces) semisweet chocolate chips
1 can (3 1/2 ounces) flaked coconut, or about 1 1/3 cups (optional)
1 cup chopped pecans (optional)
Preparation:
Preheat oven to 350°.
Melt butter in a 13 x 9-inch baking pan. Sprinkle crumbs evenly over melted butter; press down to make a crust. Pour sweetened condensed milk evenly over crumbs. Top evenly with remaining ingredients; press down firmly. Bake 25 to 30 minutes or until lightly browned. Cool before cutting.

Quotes.

"When her friends began to get engaged, instead of feeling jealous or antsy to do the same, Celia realized something: there was a very real possibility that no one was coming to save her. She would have to make her own plan. If she wanted to someday leave her job and write books, then she'd have to write books to do it, not wait around for some hedge fund guy to finance her fantasies. When she felt ready to have kids, she wanted to have them, regardless of whether or not she had found lasting love.

It was hard for girls like Kayla and Sally to understand this -- Celia got the sense that they thought she was just putting on a brave face to mask her disappointment and fear of being alone. But what scared her far more than loneliness was the thought of waking up one day and realizing that she had attached herself to the wrong person, out of fear or pressure or God knows what. As a result, she had decided to view men as fun and nothing more, at least for now."
from Commencement

"There are kinds of human problems which really do seem, as our tidy expressions would have it, to "come to a head" and "demand to be dealt with." But there are also problems, often just as serious, which come to nothing that we can recognize or openly deal with. Some long-lived, insidious problems simply slip us off to one side of ourselves. Some gently rob us of just enough energy or faith so that days which once took place on a horizontal plane become an endless series of uphill slogs. And some -- like high water working year after year at the roots of a riverside tree -- quietly undercut our trust or our hope, our sense of place, or of humor, our ability to empathize, or to feel enthused, and we don't see impending danger, we don't feel the damage at all, till one day, to our amazement, we find ourselves crashing to the ground.

Peter had one of those kinds of problems."
from The Brothers K

Am I the only one...

...who thinks it's strange that dogs eat whatever is put in front of them, as if the entire world is their own gigantic food bowl? I just watched my dog stick her face into my carry-on bag until she found the one piece of popcorn that had fallen in there, and then proceed to eat the piece of popcorn without regard for whether or not it was in fact ok that she eat it. What is that about? Why do they do that? So selfish.

Just a theory

So I was sitting at my table at work today and this chick was like "Someone stole my lunch!"...someone had stolen her macaroni & cheese from the shared fridge at work. So I was thinking about what would compel a person to steal someone else's lunch without shame, and I thought of this...

What if you treated your children like a social experiment (seriously, what else are they good for?) and you raised them to believe that the fridge was a constantly regenerating source of food, and every time they opened the fridge, it would have food inside for them? Obviously, it would take a good amount of work to make them believe that, but if you could pull it off, I think the results could potentially be hilarious. They would eventually just go around eating other peoples' lunches from shared fridges with the belief that the fridge had provided that food for them. You would also have to tell them that the people who tried to convince them that this was NOT true were just trying to make a play for their food.

Heh. I can't wait to have children.

just some awesome lyrics

you wouldn't think inspiration would come from luda, would you?

good lyrics for a rainy friday at work:
"They say what goes up must come down but I ain't reached my cruising altitude
Take a look at what I did but can you imagine what I'm about to do?
The places I'm bout to go and the money I'm 'bout to see
Bill Gates some binoculars and said "Look out for me!""

happy weekend to you

Will this always feel like 25?

I was in Guatemala for the last 10 days. Last Friday, I went out in Antigua with everyone from the vendor I was working with. As we were driving home at 4 am, tearing down the narrow cobblestone streets, we were listening to a mix CD (possibly the best mix ever) with the windows down, the music up, and the wind whipping our faces. I know you all know what that feels like...one of those moments where the soundtrack in your life is exactly right.

Anyway, I'm listening to the mix again (I demanded to have a copy of it immediately) as I sit at my desk and I wonder now whether I will always feel 25 when I hear it, or if I will just feel happy. I think either sounds good.

hola de guatemala city

So here I am, sitting on the floor of a factory office in guatemala. I figured that it was about time I updated my blog, and since we are just sitting here I thought I would whip out the blackberry and blog away.

Not much has been going on. Life in columbus continues to march on. I have been talking to friends a lot about the concern that appears to be plauging people our age - we know what we don't want to be doing with our lives (which unfortunately appears to be exactly what we are doing at the moment), but we are no closer to understanding exactly what it is that we do want to do.

This itch never came along, for me at least, in college. After three years of getting away with the greatest hoax known to mankind, I did not think to myself that it was time to move on. I thought to myself that I should change my major to exploring ways to slow down time and continue the ride forever...what did I have then, did we have then, that evades us currently? The access to money that we didn't work to earn? Maybe. The ambiguous reassurance that there was still the barrier of time standing between us and real life?

Sometimes I think to myself that maybe happiness is all relative, that if I had a taste of shittier circumstances, maybe I would be happier with those I currently have. But is happiness valid when it is only felt relative to sadness, or does it have an absolute value? Occasionally I try to convince myself that it is the former, but I think I know in the depth of my bones that it is the latter. I know you can't appreciate the sweet without the sour, but does the inherent definition of those concepts rely wholly on the existence of their polar opposite? Is good really good without evil? I think it is.

So it may or may not have been a month since I've posted

Ok so I haven't been a good blogger, sorry, but this required posting.

I'm sitting at work, and a girl I work with just came around the corner and gave me a weird look, and I was like "What's that look for?" and she goes "I don't know why, but I just came around the corner and I thought you had cornrows."

hahahahahahahahaaaaaaaaaa

Yeah, I watch the Bachelorette. What's it to you?

1. Has anyone else noticed that every edition of "The men tell all" or "The women tell all" is a "special edition"?
2. The boys from this season are awesome and Jillian does not deserve them
3. If she chooses Kipton over Ed, I am moving to Chicago and staking out Ed's apartment building or condo or house or where EVER he lives until he agrees to marry me. I don't care if he wears a mankini, I love him. The scenes tonight of him dancing drunkenly in the hotel were HILARIOUS.

all-american reject

I just went to Target at 8 pm on a Sunday night. As I walked in, the only other customer I saw was a man in his late 30s or early 40s wearing a comic book t-shirt, cargo shorts, and black leather sneakers. He was looking at a plastic walrus in the $1 section that I inexplicably wanted to steal from his hands and buy for myself.

I bought their last copy of the DVD set of Season 2 of Mad Men and a box of Cheerios, which I will now proceed to eat for dinner (the cereal, not the dvds).

When did I become such a gigantic loser? The outlook is bleak. Here's to a better tomorrow.

evil feesh.

an e-mail conversation:

me: i want chocolate.

my friend: i want fishes cuz they're so delicious

me: until you bite their heads off (referencing the commercial jingle)

my friend: even more delicious then (gross)

me: bec they're spurting goldfish blood. ewwwwwwwww.

my friend: delicious delicious blood. mmm fish vampirism.

my response:

t9Word fails at life, part deux, but this time funnier

I just texted someone and I meant to say "Is she cool?" but thanks to t9Word, what I really said was "Is the cool?" I noticed the error prior to it having been sent but I couldn't stop laughing long enough to cancel sending and fix it. It makes me laugh because I keep replaying it in my head with an accent...like, a person for whom English is their second language, meaning to ask if something is cool, and thinking the way to ask that is to ask if it is "the cool."

heh.

I am the cool.

Comma placement is paramount

Just received an e-mail from a business partner. He was sending some attachments that were late. I think what he meant to write was:

"Here they are, sorry for the inconvenience."

What he really wrote was:

"Here, they are sorry for the inconvenience."



I bet those attachments are sorry.
This cracked me up.

Wow

So I was heading to the basement of my building at work today in the elevator and I wasn't looking as I pressed the floor button, and incidently the "CALL FOR HELP" button is located just below the "B" button in this elevator.

Guess which one I pushed?

Yep.

Have I told you lately that I hate children?

Random Sunday musings:

1. Was at the library earlier and witnessed a little boy carrying his baby brother across the room by his neck. The baby's face carried a shocked expression as it turned an angry shade of red.
2. Another two young ladies were carrying on a conversation that was not in their "indoor voices" across the bank of computers provided by the library. I briefly considered asking them to kindly shut the hell up, but then one of the librarians took care of it for me.
3. All that said, off to watch a children's movie in the theater. I really wish they would have adults-only showings of children's movies. Hopefully, the midnight showing of Harry Potter I will be attending on Tuesday will not be attended by the wee ones...

STEVE HOLT!

if you don't know what this means, you should find out. you'll laugh.

Good for a laugh

ok so if you haven't already, pls check out www.textsfromlastnight.com. You will laugh. Guaranteed.

Also, I wanted to share this story. I can't recall now whether it was 5th or 6th grade, but it was one of the two, and it was the first-ish time we were allowed to have a co-ed birthday party. So we were all hanging out in my friend Chase's basement, playing spin the bottle, and his mom comes down the stairs and sees all of us sitting in a circle with a glass bottle in the middle and asks what's going on, and Chase goes "Uhhhh...I was just showing them my bottle collection."

You know, his collection.

Made up of one bottle.

Which we had to form a circle around and stare at from a distance of 3 feet.

Normal.

Hahahahahaha

So I didn't write a longer post this weekend...oops. But I figured this would make up for it, sent to me by one of my favorites:

I know I've been delinquent

Will try to write a longer post this wknd.

Anyway, just a couple of thoughts, linked by my immaturity and their general subject:

1. Another word I wish I used more often -- "balls." Not like, ya know, balls balls, but balls as an exclamation...like, "Oh, balls, I forgot to put the milk in the fridge." I understand that it refers to that type of balls when you use it that way, but it doesn't seem quite as unsavory.
2. I was trying to find a new font to type my e-mail in this morning and I came upon "Harvey Balls" and I giggled. Honestly, who names a font Harvey Balls and thinks it's a good idea?
3. UPDATE (from later in the same day): One of my pet peeves -- when people say words that have been adopted into the English language but have their origin in another language, and say them with the accent of their original language - ie mozzarella. Stop it. Annoying. Besides, didn't most words in the English language come from another language in the first place?

I feel the Santa Ana winds blowing

“Twenty years from now you will be more disappointed by the things you didn’t do than by the ones you did do. So throw off the bowlines, sail away from the safe harbor. Catch the trade winds in your sails.

Explore. Dream. Discover.”

- mark twain

I wanted to start an entry about my recent travels with an inspirational quote. Did it work for you? It worked for me.

I realized while blogging about books that I've been traveling a lot lately - mostly because I could only recall the books that I've read recently by thinking about flights I've been on. I went home for Mother's Day...and it was so nice to be home. Virginia is so green and rolling and beautiful...and then I came back to Ohio.

In Virginia, I am reminded of being a child. When I go back there, I not only go back home, but I also go back in time to a period when I was responsible for nothing. I'm sure at a certain point in my life I will look back on this period and think I was still responsible for nothing - but life feels heavier now. How's this for an uplifting blog entry? Maybe this is why I want to throw off the bowlines.

After Virginia came a couple of weeks in Columbus...On one of those weekends I had my first ever ride in a Porsche (Cayman S)...and then Memorial Day weekend in Vegas with friends (eeeeeeeeeeee!!). You wouldn't think it, but I love Vegas. Love it. I think Vegas is an adult playground in which any type of person can find their own tiny, perfect experience. I went with two of my best (guy) friends and we were basically irresponsible for almost 5 days straight. It was glorious. Sun, alcohol, gambling, and an excuse to wear cocktail dresses and ridiculous heels 3 nights straight? Yes, please. I randomly won $81 on our flight out to Vegas (thank you, Southwest) in a game played with the other passengers, and then won an additional $70 on a slot machine. I was quite excited. I met Elvis (or maybe one of his cousins) at a club called XS...where there were guys LEGITIMATELY MAKING IT RAIN. Like, totally gangster (gangsterrrrr) dudes just making. it. rain. It was so BA. Then one of my recent dreams came true and they played "Swing Ya Rag" by TI while I was in a club. I never really thought I would be that cool. Granted, I squealed like a little girl when it came on, but I still think it's valid. I'm cool. I go to clubs in Vegas. Whatever. Of course other ridiculous things happened in Vegas, but what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas, etc.

So I came back from Vegas two weeks ago and then this weekend I went to Nashville with three friends...for no reason in particular, really, other than that the friends were going to a concert and it is one of their birthdays this week. So get this. We get to Nashville on Friday night and immediately begin drinking at the free happy hour provided by our hotel (Don't mind if I do, Embassy Suites). I was two drinks in when my best friend called me and tried to discuss something with me that involved decision making skills, and I responded with "I'm two drinks in at this point, you can't ask me these questions right now." We go out that night on Broadway - eat a bbq dinner (at Rippy's) where they serve corn pancakes alongside our meals. Corn pancakes. It was brilliant. We later figured out that we ate ONE MEAL in Nashville that was not accompanied by pancakes of some sort. Remind me again why I do not live there? To work off the bbq-coma, we went to Tootsie's and sang and stomped along with the live band(s).

Notes to self that I had forgotten since my college experience:

1) You love country music.

2) You love country men.

Later that night we were walking from one bar to another and we saw a bunch of horse-drawn carriages lined up on the street waiting for people to drive around. One of those horses had a dog standing on its back. Of course, my first reaction was "PUPPY!," but as I watched the dog, I noticed that it was tense and its legs were trembling slightly. I'm sure it did the trick all the time, and it worked, its driver got passengers before all the other drivers, but it looked nervous, and (please indulge me for a moment) I identified with the dog. It was performing for a moment, trying to make its owner happy, just waiting and remaining silent until it could jump back to the driver's seat and curl up comfortably. I felt like the dog because all I wanted to do was go home - but I was trying to appear to be having a good time because I didn't want to be Debbie Downer. My friends continued on to another bar but I went back to the hotel and got in bed with a book. Say what you want. I know I'm 25 and I turned down a night of continued drunkenness and partying in Nashville to hang out in a hotel room by myself, but I realized that I don't want to be like that dog. I'm the only one who can make myself happy. So I did.

The next day we went to the Pancake Pantry in the morning (let's be honest, afternoon) for brunch...delicioso. I can strongly recommend the chocolate chip pancakes. And the eggs. And the sausage. And the Diet Coke. Reminiscent of the Tavern in Charlottesville for all the other Wahoos reading this blog. We then strolled around area surrounding Vanderbilt, and I forced my friends to walk across Vanderbilt's campus until we arrived in the Greek area and I was able to take a picture in front of the XO house (I'll post it later, am lazy right now). We went back to the hotel and had a bit of a break after the sugar rush from Gigi's Cupcakes (across from our hotel on Broadway, if you're going to go I recommend the Wedding Cake cupcake and do not recommend the Root Beer or Red Velvet cupcakes) and then the boys and I went back out to Broadway while Kelly stayed in for a nap.

We were browsing in Hatch Show Print when the following life-defining moment happened:

(door jingles, a few men walk in, my back is turned to the door)

"Well...this isn't the guitar shop" (says a man in a British accent)

"Well then where do you think the guitar shop is?" (asks another man in a British accent)

(I turn around to inform the fellow tourists of the location of said guitar shop which I happened to pass one block away the night before and my heart LEAPS INTO MY THROAT because I have come FACE TO FACE with Chris mother-effing Martin. Chris Martin. Lead singer of Coldplay. Husband of Gwyneth Paltrow. Father to Apple and Moses. And the rest of the band but let's be honest I don't know their names. I begin hyperventilating and spin back around.)

"That. Is. Coldplay. I think that is Coldplay." (I say to my friend in between rapid breaths as I stand a little too close to him in an attempt to not let Coldplay HEAR that I was informing the very small shop of their presence) After leaving that friend in a state of shock similar to my own, I sidle up to the other friend who had come with me (again, getting inappropriately close) and tell him of their presence. I was speechless. I could not form words. I continued to breathe heavily, blush, and occasionally giggle nervously. Chris Martin is one of the most gorgeous men I have ever seen in person. And surprisingly tall. Eventually, they left the store. Naturally, we followed them to the guitar shop where they were JAMMING. Wow. Wow. It took me roughly an hour to find my words.

During the same trip I also bought the "Bb" t-shirt from American Apparel (which I had been hunting for for a few months), so all in all, a success. Oh, and I trudged through the ghetto of Nashville (in cowboy boots) to find Jack White's recording studio - note to other tourists - closed on the wknds.

My friends went to the Coldplay concert that night, and while Coldplay IS the best band I've ever seen live, I decided to opt out of the concert and went to dinner with a sorority sister instead. We went to a restaurant called Demos' not far off the main drag of Broadway. Post-dinner, I went to a restaurant on Broadway called Merchant's to have dessert and a drink. I ended up sitting at the bar eating my cheesecake (crust better than the cake itself, if I went back I would order the chocolate chip bread pudding), drinking Pinot Grigio, and falling in love with the bartender Nate. We talked through three glasses of wine and I learned that Nate was an aspiring musician (drummer, inspired by Radiohead), originally from Vermont, 2nd oldest of 6 children, who has been living in Nashville for 3.5 years and likes bartending because the schedule is flexible. He's never been further west than Nashville but wants to visit Vegas and LA. And I love him. In an uncharacteristic move, I did NOT leave him my phone number...but I imagine that if I write a novel someday, he will be a character. Hell, maybe my life will turn out to be a Nicholas Sparks book and I will end up with him. Eeee.

Another person I met at that bar who will be a character? The guy who sat next to me and told me that he lives close to the Embassy Suites and frequently stops in to take advantage of their free breakfasts...and now will take advantage of their free happy hours since I gave him my extra room key. Pretty sure my friends are going to bring that one up for roughly 10 years. Yep, Bridget did something irrational and vaguely dangerous because she hates her life lately...shocking.

Yesterday we went to the Country Music Hall of Fame and Museum - in my opinion, not worth the $20 entry fee - and a "New York Diner" called Noshville - not worth the "best deli in Nashville" award it's received a few years running. Eh, I don't know, the avocado/tomato/monterey jack omelette certainly wasn't bad...and the potato pancakes were also good...but I do think I could have made it myself. Not overly impressive. Maybe I just didn't order the right thing. Points for the clever name, though.

I am currently blogging from home base in Cbus, but pack up again tomorrow and board a plane early Wednesday morning to spend the remainder of the week in Hilton Head. Send me warm weather and sunshine thoughts - for myself, my best friend, and two good friends who are marrying this weekend. Oh, and at some point, please remind me again how I became old enough to have friends getting married.

Cheers to you, friends, and the places the winds will take you.

Dear Chickpeas, I love you. Marry me?

They go by a couple of names: Chickpeas. Garbanzo Beans. They go in hummus. They go in falafel. They are glorious. 

I love to eat them plain in salads, but my new favorite thing to do is to get a can of garbanzo beans, rinse them in a little water, drain them, and put them in a frying pan with a tiny bit of olive oil and a few dashes of curry powder, cumin, garlic powder, and sea salt...I toss them up a few times over high heat...I like it when they get a little bit burnt. Anyway, once I take them off the heat I put them in a bowl and eat them like cereal (without the milk). I try to restrain myself from eating the entire can in one sitting, but frequently fail. 

Just thought I'd pass along the glory just in case anyone else wants to try them... :-) OH and if anyone else has any recipes they like to make with chickpeas, PLEASE let me know. 

Sometimes, I wanna get away someplace

Quotes from the books I've read recently:

"I absolutely plan on marrying a fraternity guy because their ability to pledge allegiance to something bigger than themselves in the name of commitment - even though it's sometimes guaranteed to suck - is the exact quality I want in a husband."

"Yet I'm not quite ready to make a change. I don't want to stay, but I can't leave because then I'd be admitting defeat. I spin my ring so much that Fletch finally places his hand over mine to stop me. 'That's your problem right there. You won't concede the game, yet you can't justify why you're playing it in the first place' " 

(above quotes from Pretty in Plaid by Jennifer Lancaster)

"Go ahead into life, full-blooded, courageous, and leap for the adventure. But you must do it soon - before the summer of your youth has cooled off into caution. You are magnificently charming - and you come like a torrent. But you will be spent on the futility of little things. You're not a watercolor. You are carved out of life - and there can be no petty hesitancies about you" 

"Growing up, I was utterly oblivious to the fact that Mom was teaching me all that. But I was instantly aware of her final lesson, which was hidden in her notes and letters. As I read them I began to understand that in the end you are the only one who can make yourself happy. More important, Mom showed me that it is never too late to find out how to do it." 

(above quotes from Not Becoming my Mother by Ruth Reichl) 

And in other news, listen to the Veronicas. I promise you will not be disappointed. 

Life ain't a track meet, it's a marathon

Work has kept me very busy since I moved back to my old department...resulting in a lack of posts. Work has also been crushing the creative part of my soul, but that's a story for another day. Anyway, a friend commented that I hadn't been posting, so I thought I'd shoot something out...because, as the title of this post says, life ain't a track meet, it's a marathon...so I've gotta find a way to keep doing the things that I enjoy (blogging) while busy with the things I don't always enjoy (maintaining gainful employment).

There are currently 4 crushed soda cans sitting on my desk. 3 Diet Cokes, 1 Coke Zero. They have been accumulating there over the course of 4 work days. You'd think that I'd walk them over to the recycling thing on one of my numerous daily trips to the water dispenser, but no. I think their presence calms me. They're like a little support group that congregates daily to cheer me on.

I FREQUENTLY attempt to use body language to communicate with people who cannot see me...for example: shrugging at my computer while writing an e-mail, nodding or shaking my head while on the phone...and I bet you do it too. Think about it for a day. You'll catch yourself doing it...trying to communicate something to people who cannot see, and therefore benefit from, your attempt - which leads me to this question:

When you're at Disney World posing for photos with the...

(pause for 5 minute discussion among people in my department about the word I'm about to use and whether or not it's the most appropriate)

...characters (mascots? what the hell are they called?) who are like, in a full on suit (head and all) - do you think they smile for the pictures inside their character heads?

I think they do.

Gooey butter cake = love

So I mentioned in yesterday's post that I would get to gooey cake in a later post - and I'll briefly get into it now.

Gooey Butter Cake (that is its full name...Gooey Cake or Gooey for short) is a treat that is popular in the Midwest - my family picked it up in St Louis. My mom made it for us when we were little but I didn't remember/pick it back up until college. I started making it for friends in college and continued on making it at my first job. I thought that people out here in Columbus would have heard of the greatness that is Gooey before I came around, but apparently it's really not all that widely known outside of St. Louis. Gooey butter cake tastes like nothing else. It's not like yellow cake, it's not like coffee cake. It's like happiness in cake form. It seriously just tastes like sweet butter. I wish I could describe it better...but you really have to taste it for yourself.

Given that the recipe is currently printed on the side of the Kroger brand cream cheese box, I'm not going to be shy about sharing the recipe...so pls see below:
Preheat oven to 350 degrees...pull out a 9" x 13" pan (no need to grease since there is so much butter in the cake)
Ingredients:
3 eggs
1 stick of butter (melted)
1 8 oz brick of cream cheese (softened)
1 box of butter cake mix (I recommend Duncan Hines)
1 lb of powdered sugar

Mix together melted butter, 1 egg, and cake mix. Once all of the cake mix is moistened, press into the bottom of the pan (I recommend turning out the dough, covering it with plastic wrap, and using your hands to press it uniformly into the pan - much easier than trying to use a spatula).

Mix together softened cream cheese, remaining 2 eggs, and 1 lb of powdered sugar (reserve a couple of tablespoons to sprinkle on top of the cake). The ingredients will form a thick liquid. Once all the ingredients are combined, pour over the top of the dough that has been pressed into the bottom of the pan.

Bake for 30-35 minutes, until top is golden brown and puffy. Sprinkle with reserved powdered sugar.

Devour, and/or fend off hoards of people with forks trying to steal your cake.

ANYWAY.

Today I brought a gooey cake to work for a friend's birthday. I saved a piece to the side for a friend on my desk, and while it was sitting there, a guy from my design team came over and was talking to me about some comments...the conversation went like this:

Brian: Ok so I think we're going to get out these (stops short and grabs my wrist in a vice) IS THAT GOOEY BUTTER CAKE?
Me: Ummm...yes? Do you like gooey cake?
Brian: SHUT UP. SHUT UP.
Me: Are you from St. Louis??
Brian: I'm from Springfield!!
Me: GO TO THE CONFERENCE ROOM RIGHT NOW AND GET SOME.

So Brian goes into the conference room and gets some gooey cake and bites into it and says "This tastes like childhood...and love." And then he turns to me and says "Don't you love it when you like someone a lot...and then something happens and you LOVE them?"

See?

Gooey = love.

It's been that kind of day

Just in case you haven't heard of this website yet...

http://www.fmylife.com/

Whenever you're feeling like maybe you're having the worst day EVER, check that website out. It may not make you any happier about YOUR life, but it will damn well make you happy you don't have THEIR lives.

I had about a 10 on the scale of 1-shitty day at work today (I'm not even going to get into it because my job is not my life...please remind me of that next time I am tempted to put my fist through a wall). After work I went to dinner with a very good friend (please slap me if I ever say fml about my friends because they are the best) and then ran to the grocery store to get the ingredients to make a gooey cake (we'll get to gooey cake in a later post). I came home and started making the gooey cake, promptly spilling powdered sugar all over my stovetop, shirt, shorts, and shoes. fml.

I then sat down on the couch to watch television and spilled water down my shirt. Not like, down the front of my shirt, which would have blown just enough on its own, but down the neck of my shirt and into my bra.

f.
m.
l.

Oh - and in case you were wondering - yes, I AM feeling stabby and screamy today (see below).

Words I wish I used more often - Vol 2

I just thought of some really good additions.

1. I wish I used the words "stabby" and "screamy" more. Pls reference Jenn Lancaster's blog (www.jennsylvania.com) to see how the words should be used - but in general it would be appropriate to say "I'm feeling stabby" or "I'm feeling screamy" if you were angry/sassy. This amuses me as I am always looking for new ways to convey my irritation to others.
2. I also wish I said "You shut your mouth" more. I really don't think that I ever will because it would be a clear ripoff of one of my friends (Kelly) and it is really only quite so funny coming out of her mouth given her generally carefree/chill demeanor. I'm not quite sure I could pull off carefree and chill as well as Kelly does...and the brilliance/humor of this phrase lies in the contradiction between personality and message.

Other random life updates:

Earlier this week my manager asked me to get a sample of something for her and I asked in response, "Does size matter?" Then I laughed and said "Isn't that the eternal question?" and ran away snickering to retrieve the sample.

I went to a concert last night and experienced one of those transcendent moments where you hope with all your heart that the memory will be burned into your mind forever - like it will be one of the scenes that flashes before your eyes in your last moments. It was a beautiful night in Columbus (you won't hear me say that often) - somewhere around 70 degrees. The Killers were playing and they closed on "All these things that I have done" - and at one point in the song they shot off white confetti into the crowd. Everyone was jumping up and down and dancing and just generally being insane and it was one of those moments that you imagine would be in slow motion if your life were a movie. Looking up into the sky you saw the stars mixed with the confetti, you saw the crowd going crazy, you saw the Killers rocking out onstage... and it was awesome. I distinctly thought to myself "This is what 25 is about."

In case you're wondering, 24 was about dancing like a crazy person to Girltalk onstage at the company holiday party.

You're gonna shoot who? (who?) Not even on your best day.

I'm watching SNL, and Tracy Morgan just said "Thailand. I wanted a place that was heavy on dogs and light on laws." I'm never going to be able to run my production in Thailand again without thinking of that quote. Hee.

I went to a party tonight, and there was a baby present. Not like, a tiny tiny gift, but rather a baby who was in attendance. So, again, it was brought to light just how good babies have it. They are the center of attention at all times. They do whatever they want. They roll around on the carpet and people bring them toys. They are allowed to cry for no particular reason. They get to wear footy pajamas and suck on pacifiers. So, what I want to know is this - we're adults. We run the world. Why do we let the babies get away with all the fun? Who decided that?

Also present at the party was my friend Brittany's parent's dog, Guinness. She is only 2 years old and is still wearing a shock collar in case she misbehaves. At one point in the night, she put her front paws on the kitchen table and tried to steal a brownie....a few minutes later Brittany came back into the room and said "It's ok. I shocked her then I put her in my bed."

That's what he said.

Love me, hate me, say what you want about me

I spent the morning and afternoon of this lovely Saturday doing a little spring cleaning. When I say morning, though, let's be honest...I mean the 30 minutes before noon that I was actually out of bed. Oops. Then again, whatever. I'm 25. I do what I want.

And apparently, what I want today is three loads of laundry along with cleaning my kitchen and bathroom and vacuuming my whole apartment (I do kind of love vacuuming but that's a separate story). Speaking of, why are there two u's in the word vacuum? I mean...is that really necessary?

So recently I must have pulled some obscure muscle in my back that is somehow connected to my leg...because whenever I bend at the waist it feels really tight. It's been going on for a few weeks but I've been generally ignoring it and hoping it goes away...but today as I was sorting laundry I bent over to pick something up and my back hurt. I mumbled (out loud, to myself in my empty apartment) "I'm not entirely sure what's going on back there, but it hurts."

Then, as is my reflex, I said "Heh. That's what she said."

Aloud. Alone.

I'm not quite sure whether to like myself more or less for that.

Oh and by the way I saw Britney Spears on Thursday night and I officially want to quit my job and pursue my new dream of BEING HER (without the babies and the crazy). When she came out of the ceiling dressed like a ring master, I screamed like a 10 year old girl. That girl is an icon. Say what you want about her (as she says in If You Seek Amy, the song that has caused plenty of controversy but which she performed nonetheless on Thursday night, to my UTTER DELIGHT), but she knows what game she's playing and she's the best one playing it.

This is the video played on stage before she came out to close with Womanizer. If this doesn't make you want to join me in my quest to be her, I don't know what will:

Running through the rain in men's pants

Random musings today:

1. My office is made up of numerous buildings, laid out like a college campus. I was walking to the cafeteria today (about a 3 minute walk), and as I left my building it was cloudy. By the time I arrived at the cafeteria, it was raining. So as I left the cafeteria to walk back to my building, I walked through another building to stay out of the ran as much as possible. I ran from one building to another through the rain, and then stopped for roughly 3 minutes to talk to a friend as I passed his desk. By the time I left his building, it was so sunny that I considered reaching up and pushing my sunglasses down from my hair to the bridge of my nose. Ah, Columbus weather. Within a roughly 20 minute span, we went from partly cloudy to drizzling (that's kind of a sweet word) to legitimate rain (like, dashing from building to building kind of rain) back to blinding sun. Cool.
2. I'm wearing really low slung jeans today. Technically they're just a size too big, but I'm wearing them across my hips with about a 1" dropped crotch, and as I walked back from the cafeteria, the jeans were inching themselves lower and lower, and I was like "I wonder if this is what men feel like all the time."

An update on all things hot

So you should all be proud to know that I bought a new battery and replaced the fire alarm to its place of honor on my ceiling earlier tonight.

I was talking to my mom last night and I said "I need a boyfriend to do things like this for me." But the thing is, in the last month, I've declogged a sink, replaced a battery in a fire alarm, replaced my windshield wiper blades...all things I previously would have nudged a boyfriend in my life to do (and by nudged I mean stomped my foot like a 5 year old until it happened). Granted, I did get a wicked sunburn this weekend because I was incapable of applying sunscreen successfully to my own back, but some things are just out of my control.

It's nice to know that I might want a boyfriend to do these things, but I don't need one.

But lest you think I'm really smart, I'll leave you with this...I baked a cinnamon struesel bread tonight for a breakfast party tomorrow, and upon taking it out of the 375 degree oven, I ran a knife around the outside of the bread to loosen it from the pan. I then chose to put said knife in my mouth to lick off the struesel. The 375 degree knife.

Tongue? Burned.

Self? Functionally retarded.

Blame it on the a-a-a-a-a-alcohol

Last night was...interesting. Want me to tell you about it? Don't mind if I do.

So, for once in my life, there was more than one social event going on to which I was invited. I tried to compromise by going to one for a little bit and then the other (to which I had committed first) for the rest of the time. There was a lag between the two, though, and I spent said lag sitting at the bar in Marcella's by myself drinking a vodka soda. And I really enjoyed it (not just the drink, also the experience). I am laughing right now because I don't think it's really a good sign when you "really enjoy" sitting at a bar drinking by yourself...but it was a new experience, and one I wouldn't be afraid to try again. There was something about it, sitting at the bar last night, the first really hot night in Columbus. The windows of the restaurant were open, everyone was in a good mood...it was just...alive. Granted, I think the experience may have been a little different if the bar hadn't been Marcella's and I hadn't already had a beer to chill me out (at another party, I wasn't just pounding drinks by myself).

So I had dinner with a bunch of friends which was great. The capellini al pomodoro wasn't the best thing I've had at Marcella's though, so if you go there, maybe try the carbonara because that was delish.

AFTER dinner we all decided to walk to a local bar and continue to hang out, after which we all piled back into my car (I was sober by this point, thankyouverymuch) and did a driving tour of Columbus's fast food establishments...first we tried Taco Bell, but as it was after 1 am, they were a disappointment...so we went to White Castle and waited ROUGHLY 30 FREAKING MINUTES for our food...but those chicken rings were sooooo good (sorry again, John, for eating all your chicken rings...oops). We hung out at a friend's house in the GV for a while until I started doing the going-home rounds and drove back to the Short North to drop another friend off.

Upon arriving home around 3 am (thank you, 20 min drive back to the suburbs), I discovered that my fire alarm was beeping and probably had been beeping for hours (sorry neighbors). So I set about disabling the fire alarm because I really did not feel like trying to sleep through beeps on the minute every minute for the rest of the night. I am 5'6". I climbed onto a kitchen chair and still had to stand ON MY TIPTOES and REACH for the stupid thing (you can laugh at the image, it's ok). After about 5 minutes of trying to slide the battery cleanly out of the alarm, I gave up and yanked the mother off the ceiling. I then stood on the chair, triumphant and giggling at the disembodied alarm that remained in my hand.

Until it beeped again.

I had ripped this thing off the wall. The battery was no longer in it. All the wires were left hanging from my ceiling. I had a moment where I briefly considered that it was possessed and wished I had a baseball bat or a crucifix, but since I have neither, I dismissed the idea immediately (note to self, are single woman living solo, maybe should get baseball bat. another note to self, are also Catholic, why no crucifix in entire apartment?). I then came up with the brilliant idea of taking the alarm to the living room at the point furthest from my bedroom and burying it under pillows. The little bitch was persistent, though, and continued to beep audibly from its hiding spot (it's like a baby, always selfishly wanting attention and care).

Eventually I figured out that if I pressed the "TEST" button long enough, it would lose all of the residual energy it had stored up, you know, in the event that there was a FIRE and during said fire someone climbed on their kitchen chair, ripped the sucker off the wall, and then removed its battery.

So this morning when I woke up, I laughed at two things.
1) The cords that remain from my fire alarm, hanging from the ceiling, connected to nothing
2) The fact that, in an unrelated incident, but maybe because it wanted some attention too, one of my pillows did some midnight gymnastics and managed to flip itself perfectly vertical in order to fit in the 3 inch space between my bed and my nightstand without knocking anything off the nightstand.

To both the pillow and the fire alarm (and really, to myself for my new alcoholic habits): I'm not even mad, I'm just impressed.

Happy Sunday.

Leaving on a scooter...

So I'm moving back to my old department at work. Today was my last day in my current department, and I composed this as my goodbye message to my colleagues. And I'm so proud of it I thought I would share it with you here. Click on the link and then set the replay setting to the fastest speed.


http://artpad.art.com/?kimdgi22858

Because nothing beats animal humor

I said spy, not slutty ninja

This conversation just happened out loud...there was a simultaneous IM conversation happening but that cannot be published...and this conversation is almost better completely out of context.

So Brittany e-mails me this DISGUSTING picture of a fat chick in a slutty ninja outfit (contextually, it made sense) and I burst out laughing and say,

me: "I said dressed like a SPY, not dressed like a slutty ninja"
brittany: "Hahahaha...whatever"
me: "I'll show you what I have in my head..." (type type type) "...why can't I Google Image 'roundhouse kick' and get anything good?" (i choose a picture and send it to brittany) "like that"
brittany: "no. you have a tail"
me: "and cat ears. just like in my dreams."

later, brittany comes back from the fridge with a can of Diet Coke at which I stare longingly. She cracks it open and says "Ahhhhh" right in my face. I start to type the words "I am going to get a roll of quarters and put it in my fist and punch you in the mouth" into an IM to her (don't ask why we IM as well as speaking out loud, it's a long story) but then she offers me some of her Diet Coke.

That, people, is true friendship.

I frantically deleted the IM.

Gonna get a little unruly

Notes from today:

1. I giggled today when I was on the good girl/bad girl weight machines in the gym and Christina Aguilera's "Dirrty" came on my iPod (just fyi the good girl/bad girl weight machines are the ones where you either push your knees together or push them apart). Oh, iPod. You are so topical.
2. You know you got a good workout when you take your hair elastic off your ponytail and your hair STAYS in the ponytail because you're just THAT sweaty.
3. I giggled again when I was pulling curry powder out of the spice rack tonight and I saw the dill weed.
4. The women on the Biggest Loser need better sports bras. What, they can give away $10,000 in challenges but they can't buy the ladies better sports bras? Not ok. We don't need to be seeing all that.

I mean, maybe.

I met this guy at a party this weekend (no) and we had a conversation about how he has two cars...an SUV and a coupe. Now, he was a pretty big guy. He's gotta be like...I dunno, somewhere over 6 feet tall, and king size (as opposed to fun size or party size).

So he drives the SUV when the weather is bad. This morning, I was sitting at a stoplight outside of work behind a car that fit his SUV's description (and it has been raining lately). I considered the idea that it might be him in front of me until I looked down and saw the bumper sticker that read:

"Give it a chance! Bellydance!"

Hee.

I am taking this personally

do not wear cat ear headband?

i WILL wear cat ear headband!!!!

To the one who says "Meow" isn't English.

I was talking to a friend recently and she gave me some advice that has been on my mind. She said (I'm paraphrasing here) "Ok, you want a great job, a great boyfriend, and great friends. You have two out of those three. You can have it all, but you can't decide the order in which you get them." Isn't that subtly brilliant?

So last night I was talking to another friend as I drove home from a party. He was happy drunk (as opposed to angry drunk or sad drunk...obviously happy drunk is the best kind). We talked for 40 minutes as I drove home and got ready for bed.

Being the gentleman that he is, he said that he would stay on the phone with me until I was inside my apartment to make sure that I did not encounter any murderers or rapists. I asked what he intended to do if he heard me encounter a murderer or rapist. He said he would drive out to save me, but I pointed out that he was wasted (in addition to being 20 minutes away). He said he would explain to the police that he HAD to drive to beat up the murderers and rapists. Brilliant logic, I tell you.

Anyway, we were on the phone for a while, and I remember saying to myself, "if I have to give up the great boyfriend to have great friends like this, I am okay with that. I will take this deal."

Sometimes all you have to do to feel better about the things you don't have is take a look at the things you do have.

One of my favorite pictures of myself and this particular gentleman:

I'm young HO, rap's Grateful Dead

I feel like it is rarely aknowledged that Jay-Z is one of the best lyricists of all time. I would like to aknowledge that right now.

(aknowledged)

On to the real reason for this post...I feel the need to share a quote that I think defines me:

"You don't have poker face. You have like, miniature golf face."

-Elizabeth Gilbert, Eat, Pray, Love

I tend to feel things intensely, and my general feelings/opinions are normally written all over my face. There's nothing I can do about it. I react quickly and have a hard time filtering the expressions that flash themselves across my features. My apologies to anyone who has been offended by my facial expressions in the past, but really, isn't it refreshing to know for sure what someone thinks about you and your ideas? I am happy to perform that service for you.

Speaking of feeling things intensely, please take a moment to enjoy the newly updated trailer for HP6, released yesterday. Potential side effects include permanent goosebumps and an intense desire to weep. Also, if you're me or my friend Meghan, the inability to stop yourself from writing HARRY POTTER 6 MOVIE in your calendar for July 15th (because yes, the release was moved up to the Wednesday of that week, and yes, I am a huge nerd):

Words I wish I used more often - vol. 1

I often come across certain words or phrases and think to myself "must use that word/phrase in conversation more often, will certainly make other people think I am cool."

Some of those words/phrases are:

1. Well played.
2. Wack (only because I wouldn't be able to help but giggle immediately after saying this because - let's be honest - anyone who says it seriously is kind of a douchebag)
3. Easy, Drama. (also because my brother has a guinea pig named Johnny Drama and there is very little in life I want more than for my older brother to think I'm cool)
4. You're killin' me, Smalls.

I will add to this list as more phrases come to mind but I just thought I'd get it started while I was feeling inspired.

Also, while I doubt I will ever say this myself (aside from repeating this exact quote), I feel the need to share the brilliance of a friend of a friend - I think his name was Alex - as I designated-drove him home one night -- "That girl was all up in my grill like charcoal."

Well played, Alex. Well played.

Love, thy name is Diet Coke

I think you all know how I feel about Diet Coke. DC. Coke Light. Whatever you want to call it (and yes, I know Coke Light and Diet Coke are two separate entities, but I like them both). I love it. I drink it daily. Sometimes more than once daily. I go out of my way to get it from the fountain if possible. The rankings in my head are as such:

1) Fountain Diet Coke
a) with a shot of root beer and many lemons (preferably from TIA on the Corner or from L7)
b) with a shot of dr pepper
c) with a shot of cherry coke
d) plain with many lemons

2) Canned Diet Coke

3) Bottled Diet Coke (individual or 2L bottle)


Now, this list becomes much more extensive when you add in all the other options - such as Coke Zero and Cherry Coke Zero and all the different bottle/can/fountain permutations included therein. But for now, just the basic list. I encourage all my fellow DC aficionados out there to include their lists in the comments (I'm talking to you, Molly V, Molly H, Austin, Noodle). Another option out there is the Coke Slurpee (Lizzybee).


My friend Paul knows of my love for the DC and tells me that Coke consumed in Disney World is unlike any other Coke in the world. Now, I have been to the World of Coke in ATL (with Lizzybee and Noodle...here we are with the bear), and I have tasted the straight-from-the-source Diet Coke and Coke Zero they have there...so I hope this Disney World DC rises to the challenge...because yes I am campaigning for a trip there with friends solely for the purpose of tasting this DC.


So anyway, while I don't necessarily NEED a reason to wax philosophical on my love for the greatness which is DC, I do have a reason today.


My friend Brittany came into work around lunchtime today and as she rounded the corner at the top of the stairs, my eyes went to her hands where she held two extra large fountain Diet Cokes. As she walked towards me, she extended her hand and said the most beautiful words in the world "This is for you. There's some Dr Pepper in there for ya."


I don't think anyone has ever done anything more romantic for me in my life. I told her that if things didn't work out between her and her husband, she should keep me in mind. Future Husband, take note. If you have bad news for me or want to ask for something - come prepared with Diet Coke in hand.

well it goes like this the fourth, the fifth

A few random things today:

1. I've had a cold for about a week. I tried really really hard to lose my voice this weekend to no avail. Now I just sound like I've been smoking since 10 years before I was conceived. Every time I laughed today I wheezed and then started coughing. It was really hot. Anyway, I talked to my mom and the conversation went like this: Mom "Do you have any cough medicine?" Me "Yes." Mom "...are you TAKING the cough medicine?" Me "Ummm...(cough)" She knows me too well.
2. I am HUGELY proud of myself because this weekend, I went to the store, bought replacement windshield wiper blades for my car, and installed them myself! I just did a little wiggle dance because I am still really proud. Please note that it rained today in Columbus and I am partially convinced that Jesus made it rain to show me what a good job I did with the wiper blades.
3. Every time I hear the song Hallelujah it never fails to move me. No matter who's singing it - although my favorites are (in order) Jeff Buckley, Kate Voegele, and Rufus Wainwright. A sampling of the lyrics:

"baby i've been here before, i've seen this room and i've walked this floor, i used to live alone before i knew you. i've seen your flag on the marble arch, but love is not a victory march, it's a cold and it's a broken hallelujah

well, maybe there's a god above, but all i've ever learned from love, was how to shoot somebody who outdrew you. it's not a cry that you hear at night, it's not somebody who's seen the light, it's a cold and it's a broken hallelujah "

I pop collars because champagne gives me headaches

Someday, when my career takes off as the first multi-platinum white female super preppy rapper, that will be my golden lyric. I pop collars because champagne gives me headaches. I thought of that today and I will henceforth attempt to insert it into conversation whenever possible.

Today marked the first ever Easter I was without my family. I went to mass with John in German Village and we met friends for brunch at Lindey's. It was a beautiful day. After brunch John and I walked through Schiller Park in our finery (we were prepped out, it felt like home...I am still wearing my pearls) and blew bubbles (you know, like, soap bubbles) at doggies. They did not give chase, which was a little disappointing. John received bubbles in his gift from the Easter bunny (aka me because I was sad we were both without our families and felt we could each do with a little boost...and bubbles tend to work in those situations).

I met a 3 month old dachshund with a punk spike collar on. It made my day. That and the baby at Lindey's dressed as a pink bunny. Because really, what beats babies dressed as animals? Very little.

Here's to having good friends with whom to make new traditions, and to having old traditions good enough to miss them.

UPS trucks and wombats. Separated at birth?

I like that boom boom pow

This morning as I was driving to work, these things happened:

1. I have some road rage issues. Trying to curb those.
2. I was driving down a suburban road and there was a squirrel on the side of the road, waiting for a pause in traffic so he could cross to the other side. There was a spot between the car approaching me and myself and he went for it. He cleared the road with time to spare. I cheered for him (out loud, in my car, alone).
3. A few seconds later, I noticed two geese on the left side of the road, watching the traffic. I passed them and then stopped at a red light and observed them in my rear-view mirror. One of the geese stepped tentatively out into the road and began to cross. He made it halfway across the street before a car came along and he though it best to reconsider. At this point, I was sitting in my car, watching the goose waver on the median, and I was yelling "YOU CAN FLY. FLY! USE YOUR WINGS. USE. YOUR. WINNNNNGS!" The goose apparently did not think flight was in order. The considerate minivan stopped in the middle of the road. The goose stretched his neck out towards the minivan and considered it as he walked safely by. At no point did he flap his wings. Not even a little "Oh, maybe I should consider taking flight" ruffle of his feathers.
4. You should really go to www.failblog.org if you need a good laugh. The videos are out of control. I strongly recommend the jumping jack video.
5. I have a tiny, tiny football next to my computer. Every so often, I pick up the tiny, tiny football and pretend that I'm a giant.

Hee!

I want one!

Then we got artistic

Ok, so now the system has "gone live" (which is why I was here until after midnight last night/technically today) and we are spending all our time answering phone calls/troubleshooting for users. It's actually quite fun to be troubleshooting with people. The only lame part is that I'm wearing a headset right now, a la drive thru operator at McDonalds. I tried to avoid it all day, but the wedging the phone between my head and my shoulder + trying to write down the user's problem + my hair being ultrafine and therefore very slippery = awkwardness.

So, headset for me.

Anyway, wanted to give you an update on the butter situation. I received this drawing from Gary today:

just in case you can't read it, gary is saying "oh, what did i do to deserve this? i am such a nice person and whatnot" and i am saying "I completely understand that Karma dictated the covering of my head with non-dairy butter. I am mean. And I use. Too many. Periods." (i hate you gary)

I responded with this gem:

I am covered in blood on the left. My tablemates (wearing their headsets) say "Where have you been?" I say "Murdering Gary." They say "Who?" and I say "Exactly."

Gary responded with another picture that is not fit for public viewing.

Infantile.

I just got buttered.

Like a roll.

I have been at work - on a Sunday - for 12 hours and 17 minutes at this point.

Things have gotten a little crazy. All day, Gary was throwing small objects at me. Wet wipes. Pieces of gum. Small pieces of paper. A tiny, tiny football (that was my favorite). The last thing was butter.

I turned and said "Did you just throw BUTTER at me? Who throws packets of butter?"

I later turned and threw the same packet of butter back at him. It may have hit him in the eye (I have poor aim).

He was outraged.

I was apologetic.

He buttered me as he left. He held the packet of butter in his hand until it was time for him to leave. He then. Smeared. The butter.

On my forehead.

In my hair.

And down my back.


I chased him out of the building. I was unsuccessful. I am plotting.

a quote from The Amateurs by David Halberstam

I've read The Amateurs a few times and I recommend it to any rower or anyone even remotely interested in rowing or in the Olympics...but after yesterday's post about rowing I felt the need to share this quote that I think "gets it":

''Those who competed did so with a demonic passion. Yet there was no overt financial reward at the end, nor indeed was there even any covert financial reward, a brokerage house wanting and giving special privilege to the famed amateur. Yet the athletes were almost always the children of the upper middle class, privileged, affluent. One could understand the son of a ghetto family playing in the schoolyard for six hours a day hoping that basketball was a ticket out of the slum. It was harder to understand the son of Beacon Hill spending so much time and subjecting himself to so much pain to attain an honor that no one even understood. Perhaps in our society the true madness in the search for excellence is left for the amateur."

An evolution of sorts.

I have always been something of an egomaniac when it comes to writing, so in high school, when my first three attempts at college essays were flat out rejected by my AP English teacher (I believe her words were something along the lines of "I'm not even going to comment on these. Try again."), I grew to be a little angry. My first attempt wasn't memorable - I couldn't tell you now what it was about.

My second, rather ironically, was about second chances. My mother had cancer the summer before my senior year in high school, but we were unbelievably, almost embarrassingly

 fortunate, and she's fine now. My best friend's mother died on September 18th, 2001 from cancer. The essay was about coming to grips, for the first time, with what appeared to be the supreme and unforgiving randomness of Life (yes, with a capital L). The idea that it didn't matter why things happened - only that they had, and you had no choice but to fall on your knees and thank God before moving on in your altered Life. It wasn't good enough. 

The third was about a consignment shop I had been working in since I was...I don't know, 12 maybe? I volunteered there sometimes on weekends but mostly during the week in the summer. There is one experience that I remember more clearly than any other I had there, and that is what my essay was about. One day this lady came into the shop wearing a sweatsuit that was stained and clearly in need of replacement - holes, tattered hems, etc. She came straight to

 the jewelry counter and tried on a bracelet made of silver and pearls. The money that she used to buy the bracelet could have bought any number of outfits in that store to replace the one she was wearing - but it wasn't what she wanted. The essay was about the idea that desire, while sometimes seemingly irrational to those standing on the outside, always makes perfect sense to those of us in its grip. 

And finally - the fourth. I was so angry by this point in time that I decided to give up on trying to write something moving and meaningful, and I just laid it out there. I can't even tell you how angry the tone of the essay was -but in the end I think that's what made it work.

It was about rowing. By this point in time, I had been rowing for 3 years and was approaching

 my 4th season of high school rowing. I wrote about why I rowed - which may seem pedestrian - but is one of the most passionate things I think I've ever written. I wrote about how I hated getting up at 5 o'clock in the morning. I hated wiping out on the ice-covered docks at the beginning of spring. I hated having a tiny, type-A, obsessive compulsive little bitch (that isn't confined to one person, but rather to coxswains in general) scream in my face as I exhausted my body while they sat - SAT -  in front of me covered in fleece jackets. 

And then, I wrote about how it was all worth it. It was worth it to watch the sun rise over the monuments every morning from the Potomac. It was worth it for the first 10 seconds of every race. 

I will never be able to adequately explain this to someone who has never rowed, but that feeling is like nothing else. Your body is tensed up like a coil, gripping your oar, waiting to release everything you've got. The starter's impassive voice over the loudspeaker says "All ready. 3. 2. 1. Row." What no one else can hear is the coxswains in each of the boats whispering fervently into their mics "set this boat. set the goddamn boat. if you do not set this boat before we start you are going to lose this race. SET. IT. UP." (setting the boat is the idea of making the boat even so that you're not leaning to either port or starboard...it's surprisingly, excruciatingly hard). So the starter says row - and your entire world explodes. 

Typically there are 6 boats in a sprint race, lined up one next to the other. If you are one of the better boats in the race, you're in the middle...meaning that you fully experience the start, because in front of you and behind you in your OWN boat, people are moving as fast as they can, driving all the power from their legs into the water, kicking the boat along. Next to you on either side are boats in which 9 more people are doing the exact same thing you are. The water is splashing, the oars are clicking simultaneously in their oarlocks (oh, God, that sound, when all the oars clicked together, it was...exalted), and I promise you, there is nothing else in the world aside from that moment. Nothing else exists. You are - for those few moments, those first ten seconds

 - capable of anything. 

If I didn't do an adequate job of explaining it above, I'll just tell you this - racing is what makes all the early morning practices, all the effing roadtrips, all the weekends apart from your friends, all the PAIN - worth it. Wholly and fully. So it must be pretty good, right? 

I haven't raced in 6 years and I remember those feelings the same as if I raced yesterday. 

I've been thinking about rowing a lot lately because I'm trying to get those feelings back - trying to commit myself to something in the same way - and having a bit of trouble. I'm trying to run. The problem with running, though, is that you don't have 8 other people running around you at the same time, along with whom you have to match your pace and power exactly. You don't have that self-obsessed little hellion screaming in your face that if you do not keep running she will kill you. I have my internal coxswain now - who doesn't, really, in all aspects of their life - but it's not quite the same. I'm trying, though. For what it's worth. 

Putting this on the blog feels a little bit like cutting out a piece of my heart, cupping it in my

 palms, and offering it to you silently. I look at pictures from those days and I grieve. I think it's the same way with runners and swimmers as it is with rowers - it doesn't matter that I haven't raced in 6 years. I will always be a rower. 

For your viewing pleasure...this picture was taken during a head race in Charlottesville the fall of my first year at UVA (a head race is much longer than a sprint race...endurance rather than speed). I was bow at that point (the very last person in the boat, or the first person to cross the

 finish line):

This winter some things came up in conversation with my friends Paul and John that - for lack of a better term - blew their minds. They weren't things about me that I hid from them in any particular fashion, I guess they had just never come up before...until this summer. One was that I love horror movies (we were talking about the Saw series in particular). Another was that I love rap music. I would say most of the time when I'm listening to music, it's rap, or hip hop, or some other form of nauseating pop music. Don't get me wrong, the transcendent musical moments of my life (you know what I'm talking about) are all to quality music - DMB, KoL, Incubus, blah blah the list goes on, but generally, I listen to rap. And I think I just figured out why. 

Rap is like rowing in a musical form. It has the driving beat, the power, and the anger. It allows you, for a few moments, to become something you might not always be. Which is why I listen to rap music at this point in my life when I'm trying to become something I have never really been - a runner. 

I almost choked on my water.

go to http://www.mom4life.com/ and just look at some of the insane products they offer there.

The end.

Whenever I breathe on a track, I asthma attack it

Really, who doesn't love it when I title my posts with rap lyrics? Just some randomness today.

1. This morning as I walked from my car to my building, I narrated the walk as if I were involved in a stockcar race. Like, some guy was walking behind me and passed me on my right and in my head I was like "Ahhh, guy in blue sweatshirt makes a move on the outside!" Yeah. That happened.


2. There are no words for this. Really, no words that I come up with could possibly make it any better. The only thing that could possibly make the picture better would be if the baby were wearing an animal costume inside the...pouch? What the hell do you even call that thing? I mean, honestly, that baby has got to be like "Wait, I just got OUT of something like this...do I have to squeeze through that hole again?" (sorry everyone who was just offended, but I couldn't NOT say it) It looks kind of happy about it though.
3. Sorry I really can't follow that up with anything, so I'm out.

Sponsored by Starbucks

So my Mom signed me up to be a Starbucks Gold member for Christmas, which was great and obviously generous, etc, but really, it just makes me feel like I'm playing right into Starbucks' giant, monopolistic hand. I feel guilty that my mom paid $25 to get me this card that gives me 10% off all my Starbucks purchases, so I go to Starbucks more often now to make sure she gets her money's worth...you see how this is working out?

Anyway, for my birthday, Starbucks sent me a postcard that was worth 1 free drink during my birth-month. Today is March 31st, so I had to get my butt over to Starbucks today to make sure I got my birth-drink (I'm going to just keep putting birth at the beginning of words). So a few things happened.

1) I went for a Venti rather than a Grande (hell, it was free) and will now probably be shaking/hopped up all day.


2) As I exited Starbucks, a nice man held the door open for me and it was just so benevolent. It felt so nice. I dunno, kind of one of those "The world isn't an entirely corrupt and evil place" moments.


3) There were groundskeepers working on the landscaping in front of the library as I drove away, and I was delighted for a second as I was convinced that they were dressed up as bears. But no, they were just wearing brown sweatsuits with their hoods over their heads. But seriously, if they had just added a couple of flaps for ears and a little tail on the back, they would have been dead ringers for bears. Which is funny/delightful. Although, I guess they would have resembled ewoks more closely considering that they were wearing little vests over their sweatsuits.

4) I found this quote on the side of my Starbucks cup and liked it:

The irony of commitment is that it's deeply liberating - in work, in play, in
love. The act frees you from the tyranny of your internal critic, from the
fear that likes to dress itself up and parade around as rational hesitation.
To commit is to remove your head as the barrier to your life.

-Anne Morriss

Everyone knows that Starbucks is way more about the experience than it is about the coffee (or, in my case, soy chai latte) and this morning, they delivered.

T9word fails at life

Ok so I was typing a text to one of my friends about homework yesterday (it's a long story, no, i'm not in school anymore) and I typed in the letters to make up "homework" and the phone suggested two things:
1) homework
2) gomezorl

Yes, phone, gomezorl. That's what I was looking for. How did you know.

Fail.

F you, Grey's Anatomy.

Ok, Grey's, seriously?

The epsiode tonight should have come with a WARNING LABEL. Sitting alone in my apartment on my couch SOBBING is NOT OK. Warning label: Get a freaking GLASS OF WINE before you WATCH THIS.

The quotes that did me in:

"If there's a crisis, you don't freeze. You move forward. You get the rest of us to move forward. Because you've seen worse, you've survived worse, and you know we'll survive too. You say you're all dark and twisty. It's not a flaw. It's a strength. It makes you who you are."
(derek to meredith in the elevator)

"It doesn't matter how tough we are. Trauma always leaves a scar. It follows us home. It changes our lives. Trauma messes everybody up. But, maybe that's the point. All the pain and the fear and the crap - maybe going through all of that is what keeps us moving forward. It's what pushes us. Maybe we have to get a little messed up before we can step up."
(carrev at the end of the episode)

Is it bad to make fun of people in your dreams?

So I haven't really been remembering my dreams lately, but somehow I remembered a snippet from one last night quite distinctly.

I dreamt that I was back at home in McLean and my Dad had just bought a new car. It was the biggest Lexus sedan I had ever seen - this thing was a tank. Anyway, I looked in the front seat and there was a seat in the middle just like there was back in the day in Oldsmobiles and Caddys - you know what I'm talking about? The little tiny jumpseat in the middle of the front row where you always got stuck between your grandparents? Anyway, I remember in my dream, I made fun of my dad for buying an "Old person car." He said we were going to go for a ride and I insisted that I needed to sit in the jumpseat. I don't think I've ever recalled so clearly a time when I've mocked someone in one of my dreams....at least not in such a harmless manner. It was kind of strange. And I clearly remember thinking in my dream about how funny I was. Even dream Bridget has a high opinion of herself.

Another thing I noticed recently - isn't it strange how each person has such a clear personal dictionary? Like, I'm sure there are words that I use frequently that other people rarely use. They're not necessarily rare words, but they might just not pop into someone else's head the same way they pop into mind. It was recently brought to my attention that I use the word "aggressive" often - completely true. I don't deny it at all. But I was in a class the other day and the person I was teaching with used the word "smattering" 3 times within an hour. I counted. I don't think I had heard the word "smattering" 3 times within the past YEAR before that class. And then I heard it 3 times in one hour. Just because it was part of that person's dictionary.

Just makes you think. Or it just makes me think. I dunno. I guess I have too much time on my hands.

But seriously, smattering?

Banana eye contact. Banned.

My friend is eating a banana right now at our table and I happened to look up as she took a bite. She made eye contact with me as she bit it, and I was struck with the realization that there are very few other foods you can eat that will look as aggressive/violent as a banana.

So I IMed her and said:

Bridget ... never again
Bridget ... make eye contact with me
Bridget ... while eating a banana

and then, since she was earlier pretending that her banana was a phone and saying "Beep beep boop" (see below post, although she wasn't the crazy person I was talking about, she was the one I was talking about it with):

Bridget ... boop boop beep
Bridget ... what if you got a phone call right now while you were eating your banana?!
Brittany ... that would be sweet

Beep beep boop boop

So I'm back at work in that same giant conference room. I'm here every Monday and then Tues-Thurs I'm out in the wild teaching training classes. I'm not quite sure why but for some reason lately I've been using the phrase "out in the wild" quite a bit. Like, on breaks I tell my classes to go run wild, or I tell them that we're going to release them into the wild so they can try to use their new skills. Really not quite sure what that's about.

Anyway, the conference room. I'm at a table right now with 3 other people. One of those people has a cell phone that is making noise when she dials. Like, normal beeping noises. The thing is, this person is kind of crazy in general. So I was talking to one of the other girls at the table and I was like "So, what if she was sitting over there with a plastic playskool phone just making those noises herself? Like, saying 'beep beep boop' as she dials because she's insane and is really talking to no one?" So I keep imagining her with a plastic phone that has a cord dragging behind it...connected to nothing.

Just thought I'd share.

The Best is Yet to Come

One of my best friends signed my birthday card this year with the words "The best is yet to come." I was moved by the thought - the belief on her part, the hope implicit in that statement. The best is yet to come. Her confidence gave me the courage to believe the same myself, and I can happily say that I am filled with a calm assurance that she is right.

What does it take to get to this belief? Naivete? Intensity of desire? I would say that many people reach that conclusion when, behind them, they've left a past that could only lead to a better future - but how could that possibly apply to me? I've led a wholly blessed life - I have no complaints. So who am I to believe that it will get even better?

A smile just broke across my face - I really do think the best is yet to come. And that feeling is so wonderful.

So I've got to think...

"The best is yet to come, and babe won't it be fine,

You think you've seen the sun, but you ain't seen it shine"

A new dawn, a new beginning. Good morning, life.

What would your soundtrack be?

So I am constantly imagining my life as a movie, and thinking about what music would be most appropriate to be playing at each point in time.

Am I the only one who does that?

Like, last night I got up at 3 am to turn the fan on in my room, and when I was walking back to back, I cracked open my blinds to look into the parking lot and in my head I imagined the "DUN DUN DUNNNNN!" of horror movies to play in the background as I realized there was someone standing on my balcony MERE FEET FROM WHERE I WAS SLEEPING!!!

Ok so obviously that part didn't happen (the whole robber on my balcony thing) but I did imagine the scary music. Because I'm crazy. I also think about sharks in the shower when I have my eyes closed, because apparently I am masochistic.

Ok byeeeee.

And those of you who are wonderful and have been e-mailing me lately (I'm talking to you, Molly H and Molly V) - I promise I will write back soon! Not ignoring you :-) xoxo

I know the storm is coming, my pockets keep tellin' me it's gonna shower

A few things:

1. I would say there are daily occurrences of me spilling water or some other beverage down my front. I may have graduated from a top university (jigga what? http://www.virginia.edu/uvatoday/newsRelease.php?id=7870) but I apparently did not learn the simple mechanics of cup + mouth = drinking.
2. I sit in a room with a corrugated metal roof. I just typed that and then spellchecked and silently congratulated myself when I spelled corrugated correctly. When it rains, it sounds like gunfire. It is not raining now, but there is still noise, so I imagine squirrels on the roof, having parties in anticipation of my upcoming birthday.
3. Some of my favorite foods, constantly in contention to be included in the Top 5: mac & cheese, cupcakes (any flavor), the rye chips from Chex Mix, chow mein noodles (the kind you get at salad bars, i frequently consider taking a box full of chow mein noodles), frozen burritos (specifically amy's or whole foods brands), diet coke (this isn't technically a food, but i am compelled to include diet coke on any list of favorites. favorite people: diet coke. favorite baby: diet coke. favorite city: diet coke. you get the idea), anything from Sticks, TIA, or Arch's in Charlottesville...yeah I'll stop now, but I hope your quality of life has improved based on reading that list.
4. UPDATE: I was walking towards the wall in our cafeteria today that houses all the drinks, and I saw a girl take the last can of Diet Coke. As I walked towards the drink wall to get a drink for myself, I seriously considered launching my body at her legs to steal the Diet Coke from her. Lucky for me, there was another pushed way to the back of the shelf. Disaster avoided.
5. I just learned something new that was extremely humbling. I was IMing with a friend and she said "For all intents and purposes" and I was like "What?" and then I realized - the phrase is INTENTS AND PURPOSES. Not INTENSIVE PURPOSES, which I have been saying for like, I don't know, almost 25 years?! I mean, I always thought it was kind of strange - but I figured it made some sense, the idea that it was really only for all the INTENSIVE purposes. The really important ones. But no. I'm just an idiot. The advent of e-mail and Instant Messaging have outed two groups of people: bad spellers and idiots like me who say things that SOUND right but completely are not. Completely.