July 31, 2007
~ toothless grin ~
Last night, despite my better judgement, I went to see a Ryan Adams concert. Frankly, it kind of sucked. I arrived half an hour before the doors opened, which was an hour before the concert was supposed to begin, hoping to find a good place to sit. I sat outside the concert hall for what seemed like a really long time, alone and with much physical discomfort. Once the doors opened, I was unable to get a good seat because everyone was much faster than me. Josh had arrived at some point and found me a place to sit at the bar, where I sat reading my book alone while he was running around fetching friends, relatives, food, and beer. I was so uncomfortable and having pains, but that seems to be my constant state these past three days, after I crashed on my bike YET AGAIN. At some point while I was sitting there, I learned that Ryan would be an hour late playing...which meant that I would have sat in a very uncomfortable manner for two and a half hours before His Magesty decided he might as well bother performing since that's what people had gathered for him to do. Wow, I was pissed. Yes, I've been a bit prone to crankiness these past three days, but really, two and a half hours is a long time for anyone to remain in an uncomfortable position, not to mention someone who has an incredibly cumbersome splint on her leg and massive back, butt, and leg pain. Pissy, pissy, pissy. I was pretty serious about marching my gimpy self out to the ticket desk to ask for a refund, but discovered that the fine print on the back of the ticket articulates quite clearly that there are no refunds. So, FINALLY, the honorable Ryan Adams decides to get on the stage and play some music already. It wasn't a good concert. For one, he did not play any of his incredibly amazing songs and stuck to the more mediocre ones - - yes, yes, I enjoyed them because even his mediocre songs are amazing in their own right - - still. For two, he failed to truly address the audience. He merely got on stage and started playing some songs one after the other, and it seemed like he was being a huge asshole about making everyone wait an extra hour for his precious self and he didn't even have the courtesy to connect to the audience. This made me feel even pissier. I'm tired of this idea that it's a privilege for me to see such a great musician performing...fuck that...I paid my hard-earned dollars for a concert ticket and hobbled my disabled self over to the theater, waited for two and a half hours...it's his job to entertain me! At the end of his mediocre concert, another concert goer and I pretended to heckle him by calling out the name Bryan Adams and requesting songs like "Cuts like a knife!" and "Summer of '69." One of the awesomer things that happened at the concert was when Josh's lawyer sister said to the face of the EXTREMELY IRRITATING person invading my personal space with very weird dancing and talking that was so loud I was having trouble hearing the music, "You're really annoying!" The joy that assertion gave me is beyond words.
July 24, 2007
~ crit racers have nice butts ... and other poingant observations ~
For some time, I have become simply DISGUSTED by the state of celebrity news. Why is it, that everytime I pick up a celebrity magazine, or browse to one of my favorite gossip sites, that staring up at me is some ugly mug shot of a formerly-amuzing celebrity? What has happened to the world? I fondly remember the good old days when celebrities teetered around in hiddeous outfits and friendships were shattered by disloyal sex affairs. THOSE WERE THE DAYS! Now, they're all drinking and driving with cocaine matted to their nostrils, and their dramatic arrests and mug shots remind me more of a terrible episode of CSI than of the magical world of celebrities wearing atrocious outfits on the red carpet. It's all become so TACKY!
Speaking of celebrities, this weekend I had the opportunity to see one of the best Criterium racers in the country win the local Twilight Criterium. Josh and I gathered with thousands of other spectators to watch the Pro Men race around Downtown during sunset. We were smarter than in years past, deciding to just watch the Men's Pro race. I would have loved to see the Women's Pro race, but as the races are over an hour in length (maybe close to an hour and a half) and all except for the Men's Pro race happen during the hottest time of day, and considering that I am not the hugest spectator of sports, it seemed best to attend the race that would be both the most pleasant and the most exciting to watch. After the race, while the top three dudes were on the podium getting flowers and money, I observed that they had nice bottoms. Josh remarked that Crit racing is good for one's butt. Indeed...
In other news, some of my more recent amusement has come from the more devoted Harry Potter fans. Don't get me wrong, I am a huge fan of the Harry P., but wow. On Friday, Josh and I took advantage of the free movie tickets that I had been awarded for some good deeds and we went to view Movie Number Five, which I liked much more than I was expecting to. After the film, Josh and I were sufficiently Harry-enthused, that we decided to stay up past our bedtimes and go out to the large bookstore for the midnight release party of the book. Wow...I wouldn't really call that decision a "mistake" per se, but it proved to have little point. When we arrived, we had to place the vehicle some parking lots away from the bookstore and, by the time that we walked to the party, we discovered hundreds and hundres and millions and billions of people in long long lines. The bookstore was overflowing its capacity and they were handing out wrist bands that had some kind of sequential meaning. I decided that my fanship was not great enough to incline me to wait in line for hours, in what might be a futile attempt at getting a possibly-sold out book. So, we waited long enough to see the first people buy their books, and we left. I got the book the next day with no hassle.
hiccup.
July 19, 2007
~ the annual ants in my pants ~
For several weeks, maybe over a month, I've been experiencing substantial depression, loneliness, and feelings of unremarkableness. Something small and utlimately inconsequential happened yesterday at work which sent me over the edge and I became obsessed about getting the hell out of Dodge. I have realized that I am experiencing the annual ants in my pants crisis, which involves a lot of solitary epic walks and nervous GI distress.
In other news, I'm almost done with the naval adventure story, The Good Shepherd, just in time for Harry Potter. I must say, the naval adventure story is a good bedtime read, and has been very effective at helping me in my bedtime routine. My only complaint about the book is that I wish that there was some kind of diagram or visiual aid for the complex maneuverings of the convoy fleet, the destroyers, and the U-boats. I feel as though I am not fully appreciating the maneuvers, and a diagram or other visual aid would really help me. Incidentally, I really like the way that the action develops. The sonar dude will say something like, "Contact sir, bearing zero zero five, range one two zero zero." And the Captain will respond, "Right standard rudder." And then there will be two pages explaining in detail everything that was going through the Captain's head when he makes these exciting split-second decisions. At the moment, the destroyer only has three depth charges left and they can only fire in a single firing pattern, instead of the more effective diamond-shaped four charge pattern, and there's a reckless U-boat firing torpedoes willy-nilly at them, and it is very exciting.!
July 17, 2007
~ spotty banana ~
I made a point of taking a few days off of work in order to go to Arkansas for a trip that has since been cancelled. I've been thinking of using the time to go to the Star Trek convention in Las Vegas.
It was only 97 degrees yesterday and that 8 degree difference from what I'm used to felt substantially cooler. So, I took myself on a road ride. I haven't ridden my bicycle since the weekend of July 7th. I know, I know, ten days off the bike! My world has been cold and hollow. Anyway, I waited until the evening to go ride, and I suspect the temperature had fallen to about 92. It was such a fun ride! On the way out, I had a strong tailwind and was peddling a constant 27 mph. On the way back, the headwind/sidewind made peddling quite difficult and I averaged about 11 mph with considerable effort. But, still fun.
I keep trying to get up the courage to participate in some group rides. I had gone on a few beginner rides, which weren't much fun. And I've made contact with some intermediate and advanced groups that hold regular rides. I just feel totally shy about going to one of these all by my lonesome. I was going to go on one last night, but when the time came, I chickened out.
At the moment, I'm not feeling so great. I had a rather stressful last week and weekend, combined with a lot of emotional ups and downs, mainly downs. Currently, I'm feeling extremely sad and lonely for no apparent reason.
July 12, 2007
~ life's too short for the brown water that passes for coffee ~
Not long ago, I received a pay raise at my job and it proved to be much more than I was expecting. I'm not sure how my mathematical abilities (or, lack thereof) continue to fail me, but what has resulted on my paycheck, according to my calculations, is significatly more than the 5% than was promised. At the same time, a lot of funny stuff has been going on with my paychecks for a while - - lots and lots of overtime a while ago, a random payment of "retro" pay that I have no explanation for, and also my having somehow been reduced to a different benefits status in which I was paying about $60 more a month for health insurance (no idea how I failed to catch that one, but I will be receiving a nice check to reimburse) - - so that I actually have no idea what my "normal" pay should be. Also, regarding this unexpected wealth, I am not complaining.
This does mean that, at the moment, I've got a bit more money than I truly know what to do with. For these years since I have graduated from university, I have been living on a tight budget and I have become used to a low cost of living (you know, aside from things like bikes and snowboards that I need) in which I couldn't afford to treat myself (not including sushi once a week and buying fancy yarn and knitting books, as well as going on exciting vacations). Poverty has been my albatross. Anyway, what I'm getting at is that the other week ago, I decided that life is too short to drink the brown water that passes for coffee at my place of employment. As with many things, I am a big snob when it comes to coffee. True, no one seriously LIKES the brown water that they call "coffee" at work, but everyone drinks it, acting as though it's perfectly sensible to begin one's day with a big cup of brown water. Well, I AM NOT A BARBARIAN!!! I am, however, a cheap mofo...and I have spent all these long years in the working world with a big cup of brown water each and every morning. You know what's incredible? The fact that there is a coffee bar at my place of employment in which one can purchase a decent cup of actual coffee. I've never gone there much because of the whole "purchasing" factor (see above, re: cheap mofo) but now that I have all of this newfound wealth, I have been waltzing over to the coffee bar every morning and purchasing for myself a coffee. It has been a wonderful experience. Yesterday, however, I did not have any cash dollars for coffee so I decided to be satisfied with the free work brown water coffee. And I took one sip of it, and poured it down the drain. I have realized that it's better to have no coffee than to have the brown water that passes for coffee.
In other extremely insightful and stimulating news, I have not been very responsible in the way of applying sunscreen to my person. This has resulted in my being much more tan than I would prefer. Additionally, the tan is not uniform across my person. It, the tan, coincides with those areas of skin which have been exposed to the sun (for more information on the tanning process, click here), which implies that those areas not exposed to the sun (presumably the areas covered with what is known as "clothing") are as white as freshly plopped snow. This weekend, I will be wearing a gown which is a different shape and fit than anything that I ever wear (what with the halter and open back), and it, the gown, will expose some of the more drastic tan lines on my person. Now, understand that gowns (especially of the open-backed variety) are the sort of thing that one wears to fancy and formal events. Please feel free to assume that I expect to feel ridiculous at attending a fancy and formal event with my drastic tan lines in plain sight. I anticipate mollifying my feelings of awkwardness and embarassment with several glasses of champagne.
Now, you ask, what could Jennifer write about that would be even more exciting and interesting than coffee and tan lines?
Perhaps my recent whim to get a cat. A while ago, I was walking around in the neighborhoods, and I encountered this cat that I really liked. I stopped for a while to pet it... it's soft fur (the grey was almost blue), the purring, the way that it would walk around me in circles, it's tail sweeping around my legs...it took quite a bit of self-restraint for me to not steal off with the cat right then and there. Since then, I continue to reflect on what a nice and sweet cat it was. Of course, as with most things that involve responsibility and commitment, I waffle. The concept of having cat hair embedded into every piece of clothing and furniture I own as well as the whole "litterbox" phenomenon casts a shadow upon an otherwise sunshiney dream. At any rate, a dream it will remain, as there are no pets allowed in my place of residence.
July 9, 2007
~ cleaning frenzy ~
I went on a massive cleaning frenzy yesterday in my apartment. While I was at the grocery store, I was perusing the toxic chemical cleaning supplies section, and I located some floor cleaner that indicated it was just the ticket for cleaning all of my floors. Somehow, this cleaning product inspired me to go on aforementioned cleaning frenzy. When I returned home, I pulled out a variety of toxic chemicals and spent four hours scouring everything and listening to NPR on high volume. It was very satisfying and my apartment feels like a whole new place of residence. Also, it was quite the workout. My arms and back are feeling sore and I managed to pull a muscle in my groinal area, I assume from all of the mopping. As I've indicated previously on this blog, I do a pretty good job at keeping my apartment reasonably neat and tidy, but thorough cleanings are few and far between.
The thing about thorough cleanings is that they inspire one to continue to keep one's apartment clean. For example, this morning after consuming my breakfast of one egg over easy and one flax seed waffle with real maple syrup, I promptly washed the dishes instead of leaving them in the sink for later.
Also, I made a bit of an error a few days ago with regards to my trash. For a few days, I had been noticing a growing smell eminating from my kitchen. I assumed that it was the HUGE pile of dishes that I had in my sink, leftover from a massive cooking extravaganza in which I had no time to clean up after myself. On Friday, I came home at night to an unbearable smell that made me feel like hurling, and upon careful investigation, realized the source of the smell was not from my dishes but from the trash. See, that cooking extravaganza had involved the peeling and de-legging of a lot of shrimp. I'm normally very good about not leaving animal carcasses in my trash to fester, especially in 100 degree weather. But well, I guess that hundreds of shrimp legs and shells didn't register as animal carcasses to me, and they were rotting in my trash for two days in 109 and 104 degree temperatures. Lesson learned.
So, the ease with which I am able to clean my hardwood floors and my increasing awareness of dustbunny proliferation has led me to conclude that I could never live peacefully with carpet. Growing up, my family had carpet in almost every room in the house. I remember enjoying it, the carpet, in a variety of ways (most involved a certain barefootedness), but I recall using the vacuum on it only a few times a month, thinking that was sufficient. With my hardwoods, I run my little electric sweeper over them several times a week. Any less, and the appearance of dustbunnies would become too much. And I'm not a clean freak, by any means. I also can't figure out from where the dustbunnies originate. Now, with my knowledge that dustbunnies are constantly accumulating everywhere, I imagine that carpet vacuumed but twice a month, must be disgustingly matted with dustbunny particles not visible to the naked eye. And don't even get me started on the staining properties of carpets! My old bedroom has had this incredibly gross looking stain on it for years after I spilled something like a cup of coffee on it, and has remained gross looking despite all my efforts at shampooing and bleaching it, the carpet.
People like me who are clumsy and spill everything should not be anywhere near carpetting.
July 6, 2007
~ toot toot ~
At the moment, I am focusing a lot of my energy on not being excited. We all know that I excite easily, but I become disappointed even easilyer. The refusal to excite is critical at this very moment, because things are in the works for me to have a new job by the end of summer. It could be very exciting, if one is open to such things as excitement. According to the job description, it is a position requiring the use of one's higher intellectual and creative faculties and appears to be aligned with what I want to do. Which, if one were open to the concept of excitment, would be very exciting. It is also a position that has to be voted on and approved by the Board. Hence, my refusal to become excited. However, a person of significance in the world of my job has made numerous discoveries about there being reason for hope in this matter. For one, an office with a window. For two, the support of the vice president.
In other news, it is way too hot right now. So lame. The other day, Josh and I went to THE MALL so that we could walk around in the air conditioning. Afterwards, we went to see a cheap movie in a well-air conditioned dollar theater, and then we went to Barnes and Noble to read magazines in the air conditioning. This weekend, I hope to escape to a higher elevation in order to spend some time outside without suffering heat stroke. I also need to write a speech.
And that, folks, is all that I've got.
July 3, 2007
~ dead people make the best yard sales ~
I haven't been sure how to craft my wording on this one to avoid offending people and still get my point across, so I've decided to go with exactly what I mean, in kind of a blunt way. Dead people have the greatest yard sales! Especially, dead old people, who've had their entire lives to collect and treasure a large quantity of junk, only for their next of kin to try to make a few bucks off it at a yard sale. As someone who tends to amass loads of stuff, I anticipate that the yard sale after my death will be worth visiting. Note to ya'll.
Anyway, I went yard saling this weekend. I'm not one of those early birds, so I tend to arrive at yard sales near to the time when they are about to close down. This weekend, there was a sale at the home of someone who had recently died and the next of kin were trying to get rid of everything, including the house itself. It was one of those sales where everyone wanders all through the house and the yard, and the vast quantity of stuff for sale is truly incredible. Josh and I arrived fairly late, so everything had already been pretty picked over. I spent some time drooling over all of the awesome retro furniture that had SOLD signs, but then realized that the occupant must have spent 60 years in the house SMOKING and that, despite whomever's best efforts at cleaning, the 60 years of smoking caused everything to stink horribly. At some point, I became uncertain about how much cleaning the next of kin had engaged in. I had located a cute nightstand and was thinking about buying it, but as I crouched down to examine the item, I inhaled the distinct smell of urine and left the house immediately. Maybe dead old people with bladder problems don't have the best yard sales after all...
Anyway, so outside, there were boxes and boxes of books. As I picked through the volumes, I became aware of a number of things. One, that many other people had already gone through the books and that there was little remaining that I would want (the early birds, after all, get the worms). Two, that there was absolutely no order whatsoever to the stacks of books. And three, that the next of kin did not have the best understanding of the value of certain books. For in between paperback romance novels and some chicken soup for the soul books, I discovered a first edition of C.S. Forester's The Good Shepherd in mint condition. All books, regardless of everything, had been priced at 4 for $1. I'm not sure what the book would have cost at a used book store, and I admit that it might not be the most amazing first edition find ever, but I was pleased to come upon something that I was truly excited about, for 25 cents. Which is why I need to reiterate that dead people make the best yard sales.
So, The Good Shepherd... What an exciting adventure! The other day, I traded a bunch of books that I never want to read again into the downtown bookseller, who I call Trippy McTriperstein, and procured a large volume of the complete short stories of Ernest Hemingway. I've been all over adventure-type stories lately. Even if they are about men shooting animals to prove that they aren't cowards. It's not as though I need to read about world views that are the same as mine, indeed, as there are a lot of assholes who are brilliant writers.
Anyhoot.
To clarify some confusion that has arisen, C.S. Forester's Good Shepherd is a WWII naval adventure and is not the same Good Shepherd as the recent movie about the birth of the CIA. I have mixed feelings about duplicating titles for completly different stories, simply because it's confusing. This weekend, I ran into a friend who was in the process of watching the movie and I mentioned that I had found a first edition of the book, but it ended up being something of a false conversation because we were referring to entirely different works. I suppose this makes me seem completely ignorant about literature to have been confused on this matter, but whatever, sue me. I admit, there has been a growing certainty in me, as I've read about Captain Krause navigating a massive fleet of ships across the Atlantic to aid the Allies, that this story has nothing to do with espionage. But this morning I had to look it up on the internet to be sure that, indeed, they are not the same.
Speaking of adventure books, I'd like to be the first to direct your attention to the fact that the final Harry Potter book is due out on bookshelves in a few weeks. I know that there has been absolutely no publicity about this event and that no one is talking about it, which is unfortunate because you'd think that this would be a popular series for both young and old alike, but no one seems to have gotten into Harry Potter like I have. It's such a shame, because I frequently wish that there were others in this world, like me, who enjoy the series. But alas.
