Excuse me, What?

This Return to Blogging Can Only Mean One Thing

2007-12-05T17:38:00.000-06:00

With my whole life being my work these days I am amazed at how bored and lonely I get when I am home alone. Without a dinner to find a caterer for or a cookie exchange to plan I am pretty much worthless and / or hopeless.

I need more hobbies.

Man, I Miss Summer Already

2007-12-02T22:21:00.000-06:00

I bet the flowage is already frozen over. We could now walk across it. Wait, you could walk across it even when it wasn't frozen. Here's to next summer. Cheers.

Also, I tried to upload a really cool, summery picture by Mona Kuhn but apparently my blog wasn't feeling the nakedness of it all.

I'm Back

2007-10-14T13:36:00.000-05:00

After some strategic reclaiming of my blog I've decided to begin posting again. It will probably be infrequent but I'm trying.

I've been busy .....so quit complaining

2007-02-19T22:15:00.000-06:00

All right everyone. So I've been too busy to update my blog. What's it to you?
Actually, even though I stay busy, I realized that I have no friends today when one of my future tenants shared his Marquette Gyros French fries with me at 9:30pm after stopping by to pick up some keys. Then we had a nice chat.
Who have I become?

Actually, I had a lovely time this weekend with all of you. There's nothing like hearing the snobby art guy laugh after John looks at a Francis Bacon painting and says, "That's how I felt this morning only there are no toilet paper rolls propping up that guy's head." Also, I have a new fondness for screaming popes.

Listen ASS! ....

2007-01-14T22:10:00.000-06:00

Everyone. Listen up. Rather, read and take note. Get a pen, I'll wait.
Ok? Good.
Pull out the day planner cause I've got something important we need to discuss.
For the last two years, all of us camping allstars have missed the coveted jumping rock. We've missed rock climbing and we still have a 360 acre lake to conquer. Alas, this is all our fault. You know why? I'll tell you why. We never get our shit together early enough to reserve a good campsite is what it is. We may forever end up camping near lakes that look like iodine and on land free of glacial formations if we don't do something about it now!

Thusly, I propose that we make Camping Extravaganza '07: Another Year of Sad Choices reservations now. This will not only allow us to camp in the oft desired Ice Age region, but keep any scheduling conflicts (ie the wedding of some stupid girl that no one likes) preventing key allstars from attending from occurring.
Courtney's birthday generally being our scheduling compass might make July 27th through the 29th a good time to eat cake. If this is no good for any of you, we may also enjoy belated birthday celebrations for Abby and Cici with a bottle of sake and a deck of cards on August 3rd through 5th.
Please comment with thoughts, scheduling conflicts, potential itineraries and commitments.

One More "Baby-Girl ..." and I'm Going to Punch Someone in the Face!

2006-12-26T20:48:00.000-06:00

Today I came to an interesting conclusion. Although most women want to lose weight so that they can be hit on more, I promised myself that I would lose weight so that I could get hit on less.

Yes, it's true, perhaps if I could rock my 5'8" height with a very skeletal 115 lbs, I might attract some men that could possibly annoy me at the bars. However, I would gladly trade that bimonthly occurrence for my current state of being hit on nearly everyday while on the job. I have not once seen my clients hit on a THIN white girl. So why me? Why can't attractive, successful men in my age group hit on me? Huh??

Yes, yes I do get paid to bake cookies and go shopping with my clients. I know you are busy with your excel spreadsheets and such, but I doubt you get told you, "don't look like no virgin," or that it'd be nice to "help you take off that bathing suit." Apparently being in a wheelchair will also give you an ideal eye level view of my "cute ass."

Alas, this is part of my job which I've come to develop a sense of humor about. I do not, however, have a sense of humor about being sexually harassed at my place of employment by old, creepy, married family members of clients via nasty telephone calls. I never in my life thought that people would actually call other people and use that sleazy SNL Ladies Man voice in a serious manner but, oh no, I was wrong. The minute I heard that low drawn out, "girrrrl" followed quickly, still in a super-sleazy voice, by, "I just wanted to say that I'm attracted to you." I knew that some 45-year-old men actually think that this is sexy. After continuing with, "Oh the things I ..." Creepyoldman was abruptly cut off by me telling him what for and hanging up.

A couple days later, he brought his wife into my workplace and wished everyone a blessed day at which point he was told he was no longer welcome anywhere near the building.

Punk Kids

2006-12-08T08:33:00.000-06:00

Listen here you punk-ass kids. I am sick and tired of waking up to go to work, walking out to my car and realizing that one of the windows is broken. The first time around, I was upset. This time, I am just pissed.

Here's the thing you jerks. You never find anything good to steal. You can't hustle broken glass man, why not check out the car before you break in, you know, make sure there's something good to take.

You never broke into my hoopdee '88 Taurus. Why terrorize the Kia so? Just because it is a new car doesn't mean there's expensive stuff inside. In fact, now that I actually have to pay for that car, I have less money to buy expensive things. And, if I had expensive things, I certainly wouldn't be leaving them out in 3 degree weather.

Also, I hope you know that any decently intelligent person does not keep anything of value in their glove box. That's just stupid. What are you thinking? That I keep hundreds of dollars in there just in case? Why must you spite me further by delicately hanging my car freshener spray on the edge of the open compartment while leaving all the papers relatively neatly inside?

If you're going to cost me another $200.09 to purchase another replacement window, you might as well mess things up a bit and really stick it to me with a disaster when I wake up. I mean really, at least steal SOMETHING worth while. I have a $200 stereo. Why wouldn't you try to make this break-in worth your while and at least ATTEMPT to take it?

Here's another thing. GET A JOB! Maybe, if you were gainfully employed, you wouldn't have to go around breaking in to people's cars. Maybe you could get a paycheck and buy liquor and drugs that way. I'm pretty sure you're not doing this to feed your starving mother. I'm pretty sure you're doing it because you're lazy.

What's your problem man?

Look at That Man and His Kitty

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

Happy Birthday to that certain Mike Anthony that lights up all of our lives!

If This Social Work Thing Doesn't Work Out, I Can Always Fall Back On Decorative Floral Arrangements

2006-11-26T22:24:00.000-06:00

Lisa has a thing for the holidays. Because she's pregnant and moody, needing occasional presents to boost her mood, and because I occasionally entertain some corny notions about the holidays as well, I decided to add to the Christmas decorations in the apartment by buying Lisa some shiny new holiday flounce.

Kyle and I decided to check out Michael's (a craft store) today after eating lunch to find something that could sit on a shelf or hang on a wall. After critiquing the wreaths and the garland, our inner crafters got the best of us and we decided to build our own centerpiece. This turned into quite the task as we are not the crafting types. Kyle is the spray-painting type and although I have a secret desire to own a ceramic Christmas villiage, you won't find me near any macrame toaster cozies.

We searched the basket aisle, the fake flower arranging foam aisle and finally the glitter holiday-pine-cone-on-a-stick aisle. After deciding on a color scheme, we searched and chose 50 pieces of glittery gold, green and purple leaves, mistletoe and small gifts on a stick. As the grand finale, Kyle chose what can only be described as a "pimp" bird with a mohawk and bejeweled tail.

Above, please find a photo of the beautiful center piece that Kyle, Courtney and I arranged, prompting Kyle to overdose on holiday cheer and necessitating the intake of some Pepto Bismol. Anyone with tips facilitating the removal of a large amount of fine glitter from carpeting is encouraged to share their wealth of knowledge.

In Case You Were Wondering

2006-11-20T22:39:00.000-06:00

I know the majority of you have heard what goes on above my apartment in the form of crashes, bangs and pounding throughout the day and into the night. Now you may have been thinking that although these people may not be Large, Vampiric Rabbits, they are at least large, beefy men.

The image I had been entertaining was shattered in front of me when at approximately 10:30pm, the excessive jumping was no longer tolerable. I went outside, buzzed apartment B and waited to confront the surely 250lb body builders living above me.

Out of the apartment walked the smallest two girls I've seen in awhile and I was certain they must have been cheering on their jump-roping boyfriends. Alas, it was only the two of them. These two Nicole Richie sized girls are responsible for ALL of that racket.

And yes, yes they are jumping rope up there.

If you've been an ear-witness to this noise, I know you're as amazed as I am.

My Day

2006-11-14T20:31:00.000-06:00

I have nothing good to rant about lately. Well, that's not entirely true. I do have some rants, I'm just too lazy to compose a well thought out rant.
That being said, I'll tell you all what I did today so you can be jealous.

I went into work and greeted my clients as they arrived.
I left work with three clients to go to a dance class. This week's dance topic - hip hop dancing. Next week - ballet.
I went back to work where I made 13lbs of green bean casserole for our 50 person Thanksgiving dinner tomorrow.
I checked my email, watched Divorce Court and crushed some cornbread to make the dressing.

My Crazy Pregnant Sister

2006-11-05T20:48:00.000-06:00

I am NEVER having kids. Although I have a strong desire to have children that are genetically my own so that I can see what kind of crazy personality defects they might have (considering the mix of my personality and their surely DSM-IV caliber crazy baby-daddy), my sister's pregnancy is turning me off to the whole idea. With what will inevitably be the longest seven remaining months living with a pregnant woman trickling by, I'd like to share what the preceding two months have been like for those of us having to live with her.

#1 - Lisa frequently sobs for the following reasons - a) We do not have fruit punch b) The cat will not nap with her c) Her baby-daddy does not answer his phone d) She does not have enough money to buy her baby a car when he is 16 e) We are out of A-1 sauce f) I will not go out at 1am to buy her a McChicken Sandwich

#2 - Her heightened sense of smell leads her to complain when a) There is an open bottle of nail polish remover within 30 feet of her b) Someone cooks anything that is suddenly unappealing c) She is any where near the cat's litter box

#3 - Being pregnant apparently affects her ability to find the bathroom in the dark. Lisa needs the bathroom light on all night because now that she's pregnant, she has trouble finding the door and the light switch. Since the bathroom light shines into my bedroom, I repeatedly turn it off throughout the night. She repeatedly turns it on throughout the night even though the hallway light is literally 3 inches from her door.

#4 - She eats my food

#5 - She complains that her pants are getting too tight but won't do anything about it, like buy maternity pants.

I Just Wasted a Lot of Time Doing This

2006-10-29T21:07:00.000-06:00

Because we live in a celebrity obsessed society, because I am actually kind of fascinated by facial recognition software and because occasionally I'd like to believe that maybe I do look like Nikki Cox, I spent some time on myheritage.com finding my celebrity look-alikes.

My favorite - Melanie C .... The Spice Girl

Neurotic? Me Too.

2006-10-22T15:55:00.000-05:00

Something about going to Node with Mike sans chain smoking really threw me off today.
I felt like I was missing out on an enjoyable activity essential to the very act of drinking an espresso-based beverage and eating a banana muffin, inevitably leading me to lack a sense of caffeinated fulfillment.
Upon arriving home where my skewed sense of nostalgia directed me to obsessively organize my bookshelf while irrationally pondering at which point in my life I had led myself astray from normalcy, from contentedness, I attempted to contact another similarly skewed enough to understand my current neurosis to no avail.
My irrationality led me to believe, whether true or false, that this inability to connect was the result of some assured and irreversible wrongdoing on my part.
I gave up on picking up last night's empty beer bottles and vacuuming the hundreds of fallen leaves tracked through the apartment and crushed into the carpets and instead, took a nap with Khaptka.

Welcome to my mind.

"I don't want my shower to consist of salsa and chips."

2006-10-12T22:20:00.000-05:00

Everyone ---

I'm gonna be an Auntie!!!

Lisa sits down next to me all nonchalantly, looks at me and says, "Guess what?"
I naturally reply with, "You're pregnant?" as is my reply to most questions.
Her response - "How'd you know?!"

Why My Boss is Cooler Than Yours

2006-10-04T07:35:00.000-05:00

My boss is probably the greatest boss ever and I'll tell you why.

I work for Goodwill Industries of South East Wisconsin, Inc. Unfortunately I don't get to work in the snazzy brand new corporate offices which means occasionally we will have to drive the five miles to the corporate offices to drop things off or pick things up. There is a massive Goodwill store attached to the corporate office that apparently my boss cannot help but look through evertime he tries to run a simple errand.

I finally decided that my boss was the greatest boss ever when he returned from the corporate offices / Goodwill store with a gift for me. Something for my desk actually. He walks in the office and says,

"Jenny, I got you something at the Goodwill store. It was SO hideous that I just HAD to buy it for you. It's for your desk. It's a faux cucumber topiary!"

This thing is SO ugly.... and I LOVE it. It's completely up my alley as far as hideous trinkets I might put on my desk go.

I do not have a photo of this gem, but I do have a photo of a llama topiary which is almost as ridiculous. Enjoy!

Other reasons my boss is cool:
-We will occasionally waste an entire day talking nonsense in the office.
-He is trying to convince corporate to let both of us go to a conference in Madison (even though the exact same conference is held in Milwaukee as well) so that we can collect mileage, get out of an entire day of work and go to one of his favorite restaurants if we get bored with the presentations.

An Open Letter to the Vehicle Owner Parked in My Spot

2006-09-19T16:54:00.000-05:00

Hey,

Hey you there. Yeah, you in the blue Saturn with the Minnesota plates. Patrick, as it were. You know Patrick ___bring, it probably isn't wise to just have your Rockwell Automation (employee number 5125) ID card sitting out like that, right next to the cupholder. I now know what you look like, and the last five letters of your last name. I could probably beat you up, you look like a nerd in those glasses you know, if I ever happened to see you in the parking lot, surely sauntering over to MY parking space.

I'll concede that there is not a "Private Parking" sign directly in front of MY parking space. But just for fun Patrick, I counted 15 signs in a lot that holds 30 cars. I thought if nothing else, the numbered spots might tip you off to the whole private parking idea. I thought maybe you might say to yourself, "Self, I do not have any rights to space 16, I've never been acquainted with space 16, maybe I shouldn't park in SPACE 16." Alas, that was obviously not the case.

According to the man at parking enforcement, Minnesota people probably just don't know how to read. I like the man at parking enforcement. In fact, since you've been parked in my spot for over 72 hours, I've become quite acquainted with the man that answers the phone at parking enforcement. I also like the man at parking enforcement because he has the power to issue you some tickets. Patrick, I'd just like you to know that I hope that three days parking was worth the $120 in tickets you've already acquired. Now, you know just as well as I do Patrick that you wouldn't want to add an additional $158.43 to that total when I have your car towed from my space.

Also Patrick, and I'd like to think you're a nice young man, I think you're lazy. Why haven't you moved your car in three days? You have a Rockwell ID, don't you ever go to work? Don't tell me you can walk there because I know you can't. Don't you have some grocery shopping to do? Maybe you have a girlfriend you'd like to take out on a nice date that would require some driving. Wait, Patrick, I don't think you'll be taking your hypothetical girlfriend on a date now that you're out $120. You better go to work and earn some money to pay off those tickets.

Please, forgo the carpooling and take your own car.

Love Always,
Jennifer Adam

"It is Christmas in the Heart That Puts Christmas in the Air"

2006-09-14T20:13:00.000-05:00

While I was at Wal-Mart buying fish for my job (yeah, I got paid to go pick out some sweet fish to put in the tank) I noticed that the Christmas decorations were already overtaking the seasonal region of the store.

All those creepy four foot dancing santas really got me thinking about the holidays approaching in the months ahead, most notably Festivus and Christmas.

I will admit that I am a cornball when it comes to Christmas. This is inevitably always disappointing to me because I get all cheery only to be let down by my own expectations of whatever idealistic notions I happen to be entertaining.

Really I don't know why I want to decorate the apartment with fake snow, it's just an urge.

That being said, last year my roommate Mike A. also happened to be a holiday junky, much to the disliking of poor Mikey P. Our apartment was finally complete with outdoor decorations indoors, a Festivus pole, the airing of grievances and most importantly, Feats of Strength (ie cupcake wrestling).

I hope that the holidays at A-Rock will be just as ridiculous as the holidays were at K-Rock. Please enjoy this blog photo album clearly showcasing both our decorating and party hosting skills. Ideas for Christmas villages and other made up holidays are welcome.

Classy People Doing Classy Things

2006-09-10T20:20:00.000-05:00

There was a fashion show on Saturday night sponsored by Lela Boutique here in Milwaukee. The show was great, the models were beautiful (with the exception of the possibly drunk model that couldn't walk right) and a good time was had by all.

However, this fashion show was nothing compared to the show we put on the night before on the very same catwalk pictured above and later used by "professionals." Kyle, Mikey P and I were at a bar near the already set up fashion tent and decided on our way home to showcase our skills.

Kyle sauntered down the runway like he belonged there, I did my own thing, and Mike donned a pair of heels to prove that women don't have it so bad. In fact, heels were so easily mastered that walking no longer became a challenge. I was without camera so you'll have to enjoy your own made-up visual:

Mikey P, wearing brown shirt, jeans with a dark wash and black, boot style shoes with 2.5 inch heels lowers himself to a speed skating stance and takes off, running as fast as possible. He was graceful to say the least.

The night ended with Mike stating, "Now I kinda miss 'em." in regard to the aforementioned shoes when forced to return them to their owner.

Happy Birthday to This Kid!

2006-09-07T17:32:00.000-05:00

You make me feel happy and proud.

It's Kind of Like This ..... Only Without All the "Love." Instead, Insert "Ridiculously Complex Relationship."

2006-09-02T00:42:00.000-05:00

"Who knows how to make love stay?

Tell love you are going to the Junior's Deli on Flatbush Avenue in Brooklyn to pick up a cheesecake, and if love stays, it can have half. It will stay.

Tell love you want a memento of it and obtain a lock of its hair. Burn the hair in a dime-store incense burner with yin/yang symbols on three sides. Face southwest. Talk fast over the burning hair in a convincingly exotic language. Remove the ashes of the burnt hair and use them to paint a mustache on your face. Find love. Tell it you are someone new. It will stay.

Wake love up in the middle of the night. Tell it the world is on fire. Dash to the bedroom window and pee out of it. Casually return to bed and assure love that everything is going to be all right. Fall asleep. Love will be there in the morning.

-Tom Robbins "Still Life With Woodpecker (A Sort-of Love Story)"

I have enough problems of my own, I don't need more

2006-08-31T17:02:00.000-05:00

Sometimes you just can't compete with cocaine. I wouldn't advise trying. Cocaine will win. Always.

I've already been with someone with a drug problem. My efforts to be worth more than the drugs were pointless and so was the relationship.

I can't beat cocaine, and this time around I'm not even going to try.

What the hell are they DOING up there?

2006-08-24T00:08:00.000-05:00

I know quite a few people that live in the beautiful Maryland Courts, but I do not know who lives above me. However, that doesn't stop me from making assumptions about them solely based on the amount of noise they make.

1) They are vampires as their ideal time to stomp around begins at 10pm and stops at approximately 6am.
2) They are large, vampiric rabbits as there is no other explanation as to how the specific hopping noises moving three or four feet with each bang would occur.
3) They are large, vampiric rabbits with obsessive compulsive disorder prompting them to rearrange their furniture at all hours of the night when they are not hopping around. I guess as vampires, moving furniture in the middle of the night would make more sense then, say, the middle of the day.
4) They may or may not enjoy bowling on their wooden floors. However, it sure sounds like they do.

In response to all this racket, and because we act like a bunch of senior citizens, my sister has taken to banging on the ceiling with a broom handle. This approach has, as of yet, failed to quell the bangs, crashes and rumbles. My response is that we should just up and move to the Heights.

Movin' on up to the East Side .....eerrmm The Heights

2006-08-22T18:31:00.000-05:00

Our apartment has had some pretty severe flaws since we moved in three months ago. For instance, there is a two square foot hole in my bedroom wall, there is a fuse broken off and stuck inside the fuse box, and there is duct tape covering holes in Courtney's room.
I have called the maintenance man about twenty times and every time he says he'll fix it tomorrow, piling up three months worth of tomorrows. I think he's a procrastinator because he's a drunk, but maybe he's just lazy.
Anyway, my boss told me that he has a house in Washington Heights (Milwaukee's ritziest neighborhood) with three bedrooms that he would rent to us for the same amount that we pay here. Hard wood floors, original leaded glass cabinets, a backyard, a driveway, etc.
I WANT that house.
But alas, upon calling the real estate company that owns my building, they actually got their act together and sent a competent (and handsome I might add) maintenance person over. He even took notes and measurements while I gave him a tour of the place. It seems like everything will be fixed in a timely manner.

So, is it bad that I'm hoping it isn't fixed so that we can move to the Heights and get a dog, have a backyard, a quaint home, free parking, and the piece of mind that comes with being 99% sure you won't be robbed at gunpoint when leaving home (some man was shot to death three blocks from my apartment last night while in his car)? I'm looking for a good reason that would allow us to get released from the lease and into decency.

Any ideas?

"You broke the shit out of that slide!"

2006-08-14T21:41:00.000-05:00

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

Camping extravaganza '06 was an absolute success. It was crammed full of danger, adventure and romance. But, most of all there were sad choices for everyone.

Sad choices all around:

The group decided that it would be a fabulous idea to go drunk canoeing. Of course, it would only make sense to turn drunk canoeing into a race and with that in mind, four teams were formed.

Randy and Nathan - Two Aryan men with a drunken competitive streak.

Abby and Mikey P - Initially thought to be a contender, it seemed they were out of the race when Mike began puking up his liquid power hour lunch over the side of the canoe while still paddling.

Courtney and John - A physically strong team that meant business when they weren't talking nonsense.

Kyle and myself - Two people out for a leisurely stroll, not bothering with any of that racing nonsense. How were we supposed to drink our Hamm's if we were working so hard?

Because the rest of the group took their canoeing seriously and were busy racing and sabotaging, Kyle and I ended up a good five minutes behind. That is when we laid eyes on a beautiful site, a lone blue waterslide planted on a floating deck, just waiting for someone to slide down and splash gloriously into the lake.

Of course, we had to do it, there was no choice. After taking a sharp right and making sure we were out of eyesight of all other persons enjoying water sports, we pulled our canoe to the side of the deck and attempted to board. Kyle successfully got out of the canoe. I, on the other hand, momentarily forgot that the deck was floating, not stationary and lost my balance while trying to reach the slide.

I swam around and climbed on from the side while Kyle was properly lubricating the tall slide by filling up an empty can of Hamm's with lake water and pouring it down the slide. Based on the number of very large spiders and bits of rubbish on and around the slide, it was clear it had not been used in awhile. I took a stick and removed the large webs from between the rungs of the ladder when Kyle prompted me to climb it.

I began a slow ascent, rocking the deck with every shift of my weight. It was at this point that I realized parts of the slide had become disconnected from other essential parts. I said, "Kyle, this doesn't look very safe." Kyle, thinking I was just acting like a 40-year-old mom of three told me that it would be fine. Being drunk and susceptible to suggestion, I climbed one more rung, at which point the ENTIRE structure gave way (most notably at the important, weight baring joints that were not connected).

Kyle saw my life flash by his eyes as I fell off the ladder and the slide collapsed on top of me. I wasn't worried about being injured, I was only concerned with running away.

We climbed into our canoe as quickly as possible and began rowing our little hearts out at which point we realized that we had not disconnected our rope from the dock. We spent precious getaway time undoing ourselves and rowed back to shore with three inches of water in the bottom of our canoe and one hell of a story to tell.

*Although that is not a picture of the particular slide we broke (my camera and cigarettes became casualties of the mission, overtaken by the lake's fierce, watery depths), it is the exact model and color. It, however, is in much better shape and probably still standing.

For a time log of the entire weekend, visit A little more sense, a lot less tact, Nathan's fabulous blog.

Gearing Up for That Mirror Maze

2006-08-08T23:39:00.000-05:00

As I look forward to camping this weekend, I am fondly remembering an incident from two years ago. As always, we camped for the weekend and then went to Noah's Ark (America's Largest Waterpark). Because we spent the weekend endurance drinking, we decided to continue drinking at the waterpark, especially since all those signs told us not to use the slides while under the influence.

Noah's Ark had just come out with "Noah's Incredible Adventure," a waterless (lame right?) ride. However, sneaking away from the tour guide, my party decided to "ride" the plastic animals, cause a ruckus, but most importantly, master the mirror maze.

Once the maze was sufficiently mastered, it only makes sense to race through it.

That might have been okay had everyone not been wasted off their asses. At a full sprint, my friend Randy ran right into his own reflection, bounced off the mirror and completely laid himself out. It was a speed at which no one could consciously force themselves to run into a wall and it was marvelous.

We have big plans for a spectacular repeat performance this year.

We never learn our lesson.

Why does everyone I walk past seem so damn annoying?

2006-08-07T23:23:00.000-05:00

Because I picked the worst time to quit smoking, the time when I was aggravated enough to NEED a cigarette, I lasted two whole days before caving in. Desperate to get some nicotine, and with the perfect excuse of needing to go to Tim's to pick up my shit - a block from the perfect cigarette vendor, I decided to take a late night walk to Open Pantry.

Of course my aggravated walk could not be free from further stupidity however, which I guess is how I came across the two shady-cell-phone-men trying to pick up girls.

These men were clearly not students based on their age, lack of personal hygiene, and eau de perfume of alcohol and marijuana.* At first, I thought they were two strangers that just happened to be sitting on windowsills about 20 feet apart both talking on their cell phones. That all changed when a girl walking a considerable distance in front of me was approached by the first man who hung up his cell phone in order to hit on her. The second man then hung up his phone as well and became very interested in creepy man one's conversation. The girl was not having any of man one's "baby girl this and baby girl that" and promptly blew him off at which point creepy man one sat back down, took out his cell phone and dialed. Creepy man two's phone began to ring and was quickly answered. By this point I was walking past man number two who was saying something like, "that white girl just turned you down?!?" Creepy man number one started laughing and was yelling into his phone ..... Even though the other guy was right next to him.

I've seen a lot of stupid things, but talking to your fellow lady stalker via cell phone from 20 feet away to appear what? Single? Harmless? Why couldn't they just sit together and maybe approach a pair of ladies? Do they have free nights and weekends to warrant this ridiculousness?

Anyway, I'm really glad neither of these two tried to talk to me, as they were too busy complaining about the girl who had just walked past. Because I am fed up with the men in my life, I did make a plan to give my phone number out to the next man who asks with all of his teeth and a job. Maybe I can claim that I will only do that while I'm at the gas station (see previous post), absolving me from giving my number in any other geographic situation.

*I'll admit that I know a few people with hygiene problems that reek of marijuana and alcohol, but these men were at least 30 years old.

Uggghhhh, Men

2006-08-06T21:37:00.000-05:00

Because all the men in my life have chosen to be 1) assholes, 2) idiots, or 3) completely unreliable, I've developed a new plan to find someone to pay me some attention in a consistent manner. This is why I've decided to pick up a black boyfriend from the gas station. Every time I fill up my tank at the local gas station (27th and Wisconsin), I get hit on and asked for my phone number. Previously I've developed elaborate stories involving my pretend boyfriends to keep these men from bothering me. But now, it almost seems reasonable to hand my phone number out to men at the gas station. In order to find the best possible gas station boyfriend, I've developed a list of minimum, very low standards.

1) Must have all of his teeth, no grill
2) Must have some sort of job, really doesn't matter what kind of job it is, as long as it is a job
3) Must be under the age of 28
4) Must not drive a hoopdee
5) Potentially has a matching black friend for Courtney to date, as she is equally fed up with men

That's really it.

Hotter than Phoenix, Arizona???

2006-07-31T17:41:00.000-05:00

It is so fucking hot out today.

I feel like I should be more popular because my entire apartment is air conditioned. Won't some one use me for my climate controlled environment??? We could watch a movie or listen to Robert Goulet or just stare at each other awkwardly knowing full well what this visit is all about.

That's really all I have to say about that.

Me, a grown up?

2006-07-19T22:31:00.000-05:00

I think everyone has those moments when he realizes how old he is. You see a kid with purple hair and you can't identify with that anymore, you start talking about the weather, etc.

I've come to the sad realization that I've probably reached adulthood after I did the following two things both in the same day:

1) After waking up, I checked the weather for the day to make sure I was adequately dressed for the conditions before leaving the house.

2) The traffic report caught my attention on the radio and I actually turned it up to make sure I didn't need to alter my drive home.

I swear, I get lamer by the day.

Hector Watch - 2006

2006-07-12T18:54:00.000-05:00

This past weekend I went on a wonderful camping trip with my coworkers and some of our participants (that is actually a picture of the sunset on friday night). Southern Kettle-Moraine has a great, completely accessible cabin that we were fortunate to use. We had almost reached the end of our supposed adventure when the real adventure began. We had already gone to the beach, set up tents, grilled hot dogs and played hours of spades. Here's how the rest of our weekend unfolded.

Hector is a 42 year old man suffering from schizophrenia and living with a developmental disability that gives him a rating of mild mental retardation. Regardless, Hector is a smart man. He catches on to pretty complex ideas easily. We never saw what happened next coming.

Hector likes attention. In fact, he needs almost constant attention from others or he feels like people are being mean to him. This is probably the reason he followed my boss to the bathroom. At approximately 9:30pm, Hector was seen standing outside the bathroom door talking at my boss. This being somewhat of an awkward situation, Hector was told to go back to the campsite and to wait. As this story progresses, keep in mind that the campsite was within view of the bathroom, literally 30 feet away.

Later, everyone was getting ready for a dessert in the cabin. It was 10:30pm and Hector had not yet made an appearance. It was assumed he was at the campsite he was told to go to after the bathroom incident. However, upon further inspection, it became quite apparent that Hector was no where to be found.

The time was 10:35 and so began "Hector Watch - 2006."

Phase One involved driving around the campground looking for Hector. It was pitch black and Hector had no flashlight, we knew he could not have gotten far. Soon enough, it reached the point in a missing person search where yelling becomes acceptable and cries of "HECTOR!!??!!" were heard by all.

Phase Two began at approximately 11:30pm when it was realized that something must be wrong. Where the hell was Hector?
The park rangers were called in to assist in the search. They began canvassing the area, driving down all the roads searching for Hector. Perhaps Hector was in hiding though, so at about 11:45 they brought out the loud speakers. "Hector Santos, please come out. You are not in trouble, we just want to know you're safe." Alas, no Hector.

Phase Three involved members of the Sheriff's Department being called in at 12am to find Hector. It was approximately midnight and the search team began going site to site waking all campers in the park up to ask if they had seen Hector. This was also the time during which the Sheriff's Department thought Hector might have come back to the cabin and was hiding. At this point, I was in the cabin with the other participants, most of them asleep. Suddenly, there was a loud crash, a shout of "Sheriff's Department! Stay where you are!" and some flashlights. There was a lot of swat-style maneuvering through the cabin, looking under beds, and scaring one of our participants so badly that he spilt his urinal on himself. The Sheriff told me it was 1am.

Phase Four. Until this time, all searchers were positive that Hector was still in the park. There was no way he would have left the paved roads and walked into the woods in the middle of the night without a light source. However, after two and a half hours with no sign of Hector, anything seemed possible. They called in the police dogs. They called in flight for life to begin an aerial search.

It was 3am and a call came in from a woman who said she had just seen a man walk out of the dense woods across the street from her house. She was having a graduation party for her son and they were still up drinking. This man approached her and said "hello." He was covered in blood, caked in mud, had no shoes or socks but claimed he was fine. The man of course was Hector. The paramedics responded to check on Hector, and his guardian went to pick him up.

Hector had finally been found. EIGHT miles from the campsite. Almost immediately after walking right past the campsite and along the beach, Hector veered straight into the woods and just kept going. With no flashlight. He claims he slid down a hill into mud in which he later lost his shoes and socks. He had bruises and hundreds of scratches and scrapes from walking into trees and through thorns. The most interesting wounds however, were the puncture wounds on his arms and chest clearly not caused by vegetation. Hector had walked into a barbed wire fence.

Of course we were all worried while he was missing, but when he turned up in good shape considering he had just walked through almost EIGHT MILES of the FOREST in the DARK, the whole situation was just ridiculous. How could he have possibly missed the campsite, especially considering we had already been at the park for 35 hours and there was one of those huge, white vans with the automatic wheelchair lifts and all that jazz parked in the driveway? Why didn't he stop any one of the hundreds of campers at the park and tell him or her that he was lost? What in the world makes someone think it's a good idea to walk through the woods in the middle of the night rather than stay on the PAVED trail? When he realized that he was clearly going in the wrong direction, why the hell didn't he stop trudging through the woods and turn around? Or stay put? Or yell for help?

Well, the reason he did none of those things is quite simple. He was following the detour signs. You know, the kind that you see in the pitch black middle of the forest. Oh, and also there were Indian drums leading him. Plus, he likes to get attention.

Hopefully you think this is as funny as we all did. The people I work for - what a riot.

Another waste of time

2006-07-11T22:27:00.000-05:00

Isn't there some sort of blog tracking tool out there..... You know, maybe I would put in all of my favorite / friends' blogs and it would email me when the blogs are updated? It'd be kind of like blog day planner. Ideally, Kyle would sit in the back seat of my car and inform me of my list of blogs to read much like he informed me of my list of tasks to do at work. Perhaps I could add my blog reading to my list of tasks to do at work. Because, honestly, sometimes I look at different blogs three times a day just to see if maybe the writer happened to update in the last few hours.
I mostly blame this on having no cable.
Also, I have no friends.
I think this embarrassing admission might make me seem kind of pathetic. That's why a nifty blog-planner will keep me abreast of current blog happenings so I can view them at my leisure instead of obsessively checking and inevitably being disappointed when there is no update.

So there you have it.
I'm lame.

Is this creepy?

2006-07-09T14:51:00.000-05:00

Every morning I leave my apartment between 8am and 8:05 to drive across the city for my job. I pull out of the parking lot and slowly back into the alley. Once properly aligned, I begin the slow crawl through the alley in anticipation of what's become a regular part of my morning routine. You see, not only is 8am the time I choose to drive to work, it is also the time the funeral home next door chooses to do whatever it is they do with their assorted dead bodies. Every morning, I drive past and wave at the two men sitting in the back of the funeral home with their gurnees and body bags. Usually, there is very clearly a human corpse lying on a gurnee under a white sheet awaiting its particular fate next to these two men. I'm not really certain what or who they're waiting for, maybe they just like to take dead bodies out for a cigarette with them. I used to think this was kind of creepy. But then I felt kind of obligated to wave because I did pass them every morning and they clearly recognized me. So now every morning, before I get to work, I've already waved at a dead body or two.
Does this make me creepy?

A day in the life of a job seeker

2006-07-05T21:45:00.000-05:00

When I was searching for a job, it took every ounce of motivation I had to write a resume and fill out those incredibly annoying online applications over and over again. But, it all paid off when, in due time, I found what I assume is the greatest job in the history of the world.

Fast forward to this past weekend when I decided it was time that Kyle find a job. This is a result of his pending eviction from his home due to a negative cash flow. It took every ounce of collective motivation to stop procrastinating and start applying for jobs.

Things we accomplished other than job searching:

1) Painting my entire apartment (with the help of the fabulous Michael Poellmann).
2) Realizing that we will never be pool sharks by playing at least 20 games.
3) Figuring out how that record player works
3b) Devising the perfect drinking game devoted solely to Robert Goulet's extensive use of the words "love", "lover", "lovely", and "loving".
4) Going to the grocery store upon deciding that we needed to drink a bottle of wine and it could not wait.
5) Eating Cheddarwurst that we impulsively purchased after buying the aforementioned wine.
6) Getting into the swing of things with a good morning beer.
7) Renovating those lamps with some spray paint.
8) Having people over to eat, drink and be generally merry.

Finally, after he was here for three (fabulous) days, Kyle and I began looking for jobs. The ultimate goal being, of course, to apply to jobs. We were able to waste more time by finding over 40 jobs and failing to apply to them. Eventually, we ended up staying in all day writing resumes and applied to 7 whole, adult, real life jobs all over the country. It was really an operation if you will, involving two computers with Kyle and I simultaneously applying. Of course, this would have been easier had we not failed to save almost every cover letter we wrote and then accidentally deleted it, only to write it again. Anyway, who ever said Kyle and I were efficient or effective at accomplishing anything? We're much better at watching four seasons of the sopranos, becoming completely nocturnal and almost disastrously impulsive.

In conclusion, I would like to say that I am very proud of us, that Kyle owes me his fourth paycheck, and that hopefully he finds a fabulous job.

If I said half the things I'm thinking out loud, I wouldn't seem so smart

2006-06-26T22:39:00.000-05:00

Because I have no cable, I'm left only with my yoga dvd's and my runaway mind to keep me occupied. Here are some of the things I've pondered as of late:

#1 - Do ambulances ever get lost? Maybe they have GPS. But then, what did ambulances do before GPS? Sophisticated maps? Who knows?

#2 - Do all those guys on their Kawasaki (or whatever they're called) motorcycles just decide it's the cool thing to do and go out and buy them together (possibly for the same reasons girls go to the bathroom together only macho-er?) or are they strangers who bond over their ridiculously dangerous vehicle choices and decide to ride around in packs of 8 or 10 for the hell of it?

#3 - Would it be possible to lose weight if I consumed solely diet cherry coke and chocolate for the rest of my life?

#4 - Why does everyone in the magazine Taste of Home, look like they're from some creepy southern town full of country bumpkins that never left the 80's?

#5 - Does the fact that a woman is wearing very heavy neon orange eyeliner with an everyday, otherwise typical look give just a little bit of an explanation regarding the fact that she is working in a fast food fish fry joint on the north side?

#6 - Shouldn't there be a big warning sign on black grout that "warns" you to wear gloves lest you look like an idiot for the next three days? Or are the only people who buy grout people who know what they're doing? Grout people.

#7 - That Dresden Dolls song "Delilah" is like the story of my life. Only I'm the Delilah so I guess it's the story of all my friends' lives with me?

I'm starting a business

2006-06-19T19:09:00.000-05:00

Since a certain Kyle pfister has nothing better to do than to whine about my lack of blog posting, I've decided to appease him with a short snippet of my life right now:

In high school, people used to offer me money to write their papers for them. If the price seemed right I accepted, researched and wrote my little heart out.
In college people used to offer me money to write their papers for them. I was too busy and lazy so I went out and drank beer instead.
Post-college I figured this phenomenon would stop and I would be at peace, free from writing for others.

That is, until someone offered me money to write her resume. So, here I am, taking a break from writing this woman's resume even though she has fifteen years of work experience and years of college classes.
This has led me to contemplate getting a "weekend job." By that I mean I'll write your resume and even throw in a cover letter for free if you pay me to do so. Payment is accepted in cash, check, money order or liquor.

My life is lacking in great stories

2006-05-07T01:25:00.000-05:00

I have completely run out of money. My monetary situation is such that I can't even afford cigarettes anymore.

I feel really bad about this, but not because I can't go out to the bar anymore. I feel bad that I have led such a privileged life where not being able to afford to get my nicotine fix constitutes a tragedy. Many of the kids I teach at the school where I have an internship live below the poverty line. There are children who do not have running water or electricity in their homes. There are kids whose parents cannot afford to feed them, and I am complaining about my inability to go out on the town.
Sometimes I really need a reality check.

A few random thoughts

2006-05-01T00:09:00.000-05:00

1) Those Girls Gone Wild videos really creep me out. Not because they're pornographic or anything like that, but because they advertise on standard television all the time. It's completely feasible that any one of those girls' fathers, uncles, bosses, etc could be suffering from insomnia when low and behold, there she is, jumping around naked or making out with another girl or masturbating or whatever, for all to see. Don't these girls understand the possible implications of their drunken amateur porn? I would imagine they're not the smartest group of ladies.

2) Upon viewing a commercial for Sybaris Pool Suites, I've developed a new dream. It involves a pool suite and a keg - a party if you will.

3) Famous Dave's BBQ is the least attractive restaurant ever. A romantic date should generally not include bbq sauce all over one's face, picking corn out of teeth or the use of wet naps.

I'll never be one of those high-heeled, classy ladies

2006-04-23T13:43:00.000-05:00

This morning I woke up to a throbbing pain on the right side of my body.
Realizing quickly that this was clearly a case of "drunken-injury," I scanned my memory trying to find the source of all my pain.

This situation was similar in nature to the time I woke up with a bloody foot that required medical attention and no one could remember me hurting myself. It was reminiscent of countless table-height bruises on my legs and hips caused by nothing other than gracefully walking into things. It was kind of like that night I was trying to run through my old kitchen and slipped on some beer, wiping out and hitting my head on the cabinets.

Thinking through all past scenarios, it suddenly came to me - I fell down a flight of stairs last night. No wonder I'm in pain. The sad thing is, I made it hours after falling without even noticing I was hurt and this morning I can barely move and/or breathe.

Grace and poise will never be used to describe me and I'm completely okay with that.

If I ever go crazy, the first thing I will do is burn down Water Street

2006-04-16T12:44:00.000-05:00

Brothers is a bar full of frat guys and their brain-dead lady friends. I absolutely despise Brothers. That being said, I went there on Thursday, against all my principles, because it was the birthday of a dear friend of mine. Following is my pathetic experience:

Upon attempting to enter the bar, we first waited in line for 15 minutes. Rarely ever in Milwaukee do we wait in lines, especially for something so lackluster. Naively we forgot about the dress code designed to do something - keep out the riff raff. Finally reaching the power-tripping bouncers, we were told that my friend Mark could not get in because he was wearing camouflage, khaki shorts. There is no camouflage allowed at Brothers. When asked why not, the doorman informed us that camouflage gives off that Unabomber look that does not reflect the clientele of such an upscale establishment. This was particularly ridiculous because there was a girl in the bar ten feet from us wearing a camouflage skirt that revealed everything short of her cooter. I was in the mood for an argument so I belligerently pointed this out to the bouncer who seriously asked me, "So, you're trying to tell me you want the dress code to apply to girls?????" Yes, yes I do. That sort of attitude only propagates the idea that girls should be let into the bar regardless of the rules simply because we have vaginas.

Later, this bouncer would ask me to provide my middle name, my zip code, my eye color as listed, demand that I replicate the signature on my driver's license, and “needed” to see two alternate forms of ID before letting me into the bar. A bar that I did not even want to be at.

Stupid bouncer-man: "Have a nice night then."
Me: "Yeah, fuck you too."

*I have to admit that not everyone on the street is an awful person but I will stand by the statement that MOST of them are.

Lies. All Lies!

2006-04-12T23:27:00.000-05:00

Today my sister called and accused me of killing her hamster. Over ten years ago. Before admitting to any wrongdoing, I asked which hamster she was talking about. She had had four hamsters over the course of our childhood all named Mocha with varying Roman numerals following the replacement pet's name. She couldn't be certain.

I told Lisa I was certain that I had never killed her beloved pet at which point she admitted that the cat actually killed it (a cat that mysteriously "ran away" according to my parents who hated her - I believe they're at fault here). Apparently however, I had played with her precious baby earlier in the day and had either not put the animal back in the cage or failed to close the cage, leading ultimately to the death of one of the many Mochas.

This alleged murder has been eating away at her for years and she finally had the courage to blatantly accuse me of causing the demise of her animal.

The sad thing is that I do not remember any of this. Until she brought it up, I had forgotten we ever even had hamsters. Yet, she has been ruminating these thoughts since age seven. I feel bad. I really wish I knew whether I caused the death of that spotted rodent. I would apologize but quickly counter her argument with, "What about that time you broke my nose?" in true sibling fashion.

At the end of the night, we dropped the subject and decided to reminisce on the holes we used to dig in the backyard.

We were certain we could dig to China.

Huh?

2006-04-11T23:44:00.000-05:00

Today was a typical day for me. The kind where I wake up in the middle of some bizarre dream, groggily stumble out of bed and spend the rest of my day in a complete haze.

It makes sense then, that when I see things that seem out of place I usually do not even notice. When I do observe something strange, the most common assumption that sometimes makes its way into my mind is that some sort of crime has been committed. Ask anyone I know - there are potentially dead bodies everywhere (this stands in sharp contrast to my friend Kyle who sees the potential to discover Little Debbies everywhere).

Anyway....

Today I was walking from my internship to my honors seminar when I saw something strange. Across the street from Murphy's, at around 17th and Wells, there was a man doing some awkward, repetitive motion against the wall of that little brick archway. Earlier in the day, my kids and I played with sidewalk chalk on the playground. This being the case, the situation made perfect sense to me; this man was probably drawing on the bricks (or committing some sort of drug offense).

That was not the case. The man was, in fact, attempting to sharpen a pencil against the brick. And not just one pencil, no, because in some extreme situation that would be even remotely understandable. This college student was trying to do this with a handful of pencils.

What was he thinking? Had he done this before? Was there no better way to sharpen his pencils? Was this an urgent matter, one that required a crude writing instrument? Several writing instruments?

I just don't get other people.

Nate Franklin's selfish agenda

2006-04-09T21:54:00.000-05:00

My friend, Nathan Franklin, has an agenda. It is not your typical selfish agenda, but is as follows:

Nate desires to be related to his friend, a certain Vinnie Bergl. This is not easily accomplished, but could be provided the following conditions came about.

1) Firstly, my younger sister will become Nathan's beautiful and loving wife. This is likely to happen anyway and would make Nathan my brother-in-law. At times in the past, without my sister's knowledge, Nate and I have planned what an awesome open bar they will have.
2a) I will meet, and come to enjoy the company of the aforementioned Vincent Bergl (it is assumed he will enjoy my company as well).
2b) Mr. Bergl will wait around for forever and a day and then maybe stir up the courage to ask me on a date (provided requirement 2a is fulfilled). When previously confided that perhaps this gentleman was not interested in hanging around with me and maybe it is not something that would work out, I was threatened with being shot in the face. It is quite obvious that Nathan means business.
2c) Ultimately, this already planned relationship will lead to an already planned (by Nate) wedding.
3) Vinnie will become the brother-in-law of Nathan and thus, they will be related.

When asked, this plan must come to fruition for one reason only - Nate wants to "go on a lot of trips."
I'm assuming these trips will be of a certain nature. They will be the sort of trips you could not embark on with only your future spouse. But, they are also not typical of trips one might take with his best friend. Rather, these special trips require a future spouse and a best friend. No one wants to be a third wheel though, so the best friend must have a companion as well.

Exactly what sort of trip has such requirements? I'm not certain.

Want to know who you might marry in the future? Ask Nathan Franklin because if he can find a way to make it work for him, he can find a way to make it work for you.

There's a reason I listen to so much Bright Eyes

2006-04-06T00:27:00.000-05:00

My highlight of the day came from an unlikely source.
Dr. Wanda Zemler-Cizewski, in stark contrast to my violence in America professor, accepted me for who I am, faults and all as a bright student with a problem being awake. She even offered to help me with future assignments, papers, etc. This woman is my new hero - she has a compassion for people like no other.

"Why don't you just go to class?" they'll all say.

As if it were so easy.

"I have cried so hard for hours and not known why, I never do
I've been knocked down flat by joy that makes my face pulse like a sugar high
I've been cornered by the screams of a body as it freed itself of its mind
I've been lost in a cold white space as an arrogant dream storms in from another life
I have felt the snaps of lines that bind us all to this world
I have felt such unreal pain and not known what to do, it isn't mine
I have stayed awake for weeks and slept for days... not one dream
under low grey skies
and a razored wind that tears at the walls"

What's for Dinner?

2006-03-28T18:30:00.000-06:00

Today I was at Target doing some shopping (face wash, shampoo and the like) and overheard an interesting conversation taking place in the aisle next to me. Later, I would conspicuously walk past to discover a mother her elementary-aged son. Here is their conversation:

Mom: So, what do you think we should have for dinner tonight?
Boy: Uh, I don't care. But, whatever we have, can we put head cheese on it?!?
Mom: What?
Boy: That's gross isn't it. Do you know what head cheese is? It has brains and animal faces in it!

This was pretty much the cutest conversation I had heard all day. It's nice to see the young kids developing a sense of sarcasm.

Harking back to more carefree days

2006-03-25T01:02:00.000-06:00

On enjoying water sports:
There are so many great things to do in the water at devil's lake. The first, quite obviously, is swimming at the beach. This is a good time to play some sort of made-up game involving standard beach activities such as splashing, swimming and the like. Secondly, and thus more dangerous, comes the 20 minute hike out to what our annual camping group has fondly named "the jumping rock." There's nothing quite like blindly jumping off a rock that is 25 feet high into waters of unknown depths. Points are awarded for style and precision. The winner is generally whoever can do at least two flips before hitting the water (since we are obviously an amateur cliff-diving team). Lastly, there is the annually occurring "great idea" to swim across the lake. Keeping in mind that we've been drunk for about 6 hours by the time we make it out to the jumping rock and that we did not hike out to that rock without a backpack full of beers and a few gallon jugs of wop, this always ends up being a poor choice on the part of all participants. Fortunately, someone has inevitably swam out towards victory assisted by a beach ball or other flotation device and upon reaching the halfway point (as indicated when one's shoulder is in line with the canoe rack on the north shore), becomes the best friend of all other swimmers. The drunken group desperately clings to the beach ball, inflatable alligator, etc. and slowly drifts back to shore.

If this sounds like a "sad choice" or better still, an "unsafe choice," it's because it is. But really, is there any other way to become a shining example for the reason they tell you to stay away from water when drinking?? I think not. Wouldn't it be wonderful to go down in infamy (forever mentioned as "that guy who drowned at the lake" in the behavioral-consequence stories we tell our teenagers)?
Someday, one of us will drown and the rest of us will be chastised as idiots who thought it was a good idea to swim across a lake after drinking.

Life should be fun while it lasts.

I need to get out more

2006-03-24T01:01:00.000-06:00

More often than one might think, I find myself in an interesting emotional exchange with someone else characterized by one or more of the following:

a. codependence
b. drunken and dramatic conversations
c. consistently inconsistent communication initiated almost exclusively when some problem has arisen
d. renounciations of friendship followed quickly by pleas to reengage
e. awkward confessions (of any sort)
f. complete and utter failure surrounding the concept of reciprocity

All of these particular friends have one thing in common - the fact that at some point, some version of the following statement has been uttered...
"You understand me like no one else can. I feel like I can talk to you. You're great."

That's nice. That's wonderful, I imagine. Here is where my problem with this series of men surfaces::

If I am so great and/or important to these people, why don't/can't/won't they act like it?

Are we friends because I genuinely understand these people or just because I'll sit down and listen? Do I need someone to need me so much that I will put up with this? Again and again? Is this phenomenon, for the most part, my own doing? Are all of these men really my friends, or am I just a glorified counselor? Am I destined to relive this somewhat pathetic codependent exchange with every interesting guy I meet?

I have been perplexed for years.
Feel free to submit answers.

Think About It

2006-03-21T23:00:00.000-06:00

I think my new life philosophy will involve expecting disappointment (mostly from people like Tim) instead of being surprised when it crawls out of the woodwork. Who needs optimism when I can save my sanity instead?

Didn't you see my blinker?

2006-03-17T00:28:00.000-06:00

This post is well overdue but I've been busy sleeping all day and critiquing whiskey all night.

Last Wednesday, Kyle and I were involved in a car accident while attempting to get to Atwater Beach at 1:30am. It was absolutely not our fault and Kyle was certainly not drunk driving. In fact, the young lady at fault (and drunk driving) was trying to make a left turn across three lanes of traffic, turning right into the side of our vehicle in the intersection at Water and Wells.

This woman did not apologize, but instead insisted that this accident was somehow our fault, beginning an ordeal that would involve four cop cars and two separate calls to 911.

#1 - "My blinker was on....Until I flicked it off" - said because it was our fault for not seeing that her blinker was on (or had she flicked it off?). It certainly was not her fault for failing to notice an ENTIRE car.
#2 - "I will punch you in the face!" - said to me after I started waving my finger, asking this girl to give ANY scenario in which this accident was not her fault. The other passengers in the vehicle asserted her right to punch me in the face at which point Kyle calmed the situation. Later, this young lady would tell the police that I threatened her and she passively and politely stepped to the side
#3 - "Aw, naw. That was there already" - said to the police about the impacted passenger side of our car immediately after said police found the missing pieces of the aforementioned car in the middle of the intersection. In response to this statement the cop wondered how someone driving so attentively as to notice damage to the car next to them, might, then forget that car existed seconds later until colliding with it.

there were others, too. But I am tired.

goodnight.

KITTY PORN ROCKS.

2006-03-14T08:59:00.000-06:00

the visible spectrum

2006-03-12T21:13:00.000-06:00

Today marked an intriguing point in my research-based Internet romance with Indiana-Man. In some sort of relational milestone, Indiana-Man called me for the first time since our online correspondence began.

I was certain that by actually talking to this man I might prove myself wrong. I would conclude that you could not just judge someone by grammar alone. Perhaps underneath all those misplaced and misspelled words there was a charming and engaging personality.

Then I remembered why optimism is just not for me.

You would think (at least I would think) that it is not that hard to maintain a certain level of intelligence over the phone, but that is, apparently, not the case. During the course of our conversation, this man proved what his poor grammar already had me suspecting. He was the owner of an extremely average mind.

In my 15-minute dialogue with Indiana-man, he managed to first spend ten minutes telling me about the weather in Indiana and inquiring as to the weather in Wisconsin. My first real indicator that something might be awry came when, in the midst of this weather related banter, he became unsure as to the location of Wisconsin. Keeping in mind that he has lived in Indiana all his life, this seemed like a red flag.

Attempting to move the conversation away from whether or not it might rain tomorrow, I told him that I was teaching my kids about light and colors. Anyone who has ever seen The Magic School Bus (or taken some sort of science class, ever) knows why we see blue or green when we look at the sky or grass. However, even after explaining the idea of a visible spectrum of light and then further complicating things with pesky concepts like reflection, he still couldn't get it. This could just be me being pretentious again, but I feel this is the sort of knowledge even the average person has.

Welcome to my case study into the sub-average mind. It begins immediately after Indiana-man poses this challenging series of questions:

"What colors make green? Isn't it blue and purple? Is it blue and purple? Blue and red? Or doesn't something make orange too?"

In the morning, before work

2006-03-09T00:55:00.000-06:00

There are a lot of days during which I find waking up to be overrated.

Listen to me bitch, bitch

2006-03-07T21:31:00.000-06:00

So I've been thinking about some things lately. I'm in this addiction seminar where I feel like the people around me are just idiots. I mean, there are certain things that I think people should know. Now I feel like I'm generally justified in pointing out their stupidity. Like the girl who didn't know what an abstract at the beginning of an article was. Or the stupid kid who thought Mother Theresa was addicted to charity.

However, there are quite a few things that I'm assuming not everyone in the world knows. I guess I just expect people to know a lot about the things I'm interested in and expect them not to make stupid comments that upset me about these topics. Then I got to thinking and realized that maybe I'm just that weird girl. You know the one, the kid in your class that knows a lot about seemingly random things such as the rave culture or the intricate details of pretty much every theory ever written on sexual offenders. I mean, aren't these important things that people should know about? Everyone should have a working knowledge of these issues, and if you don't then you better get to reading so we can talk intelligently. Maybe I'm just a bitch. Okay, perhaps that's overkill, but this is something that has made me completely frustrated this week. I mean, I'm just sayin' is all....

Field Research?

2006-03-06T20:56:00.000-06:00

I have come to the realization that my "internet romance" is only a case study of the average mind. After some soul-searching, I have realized that I cannot possibly date the vast majority of people I see on the street (or e-mail in Indiana). I can only connect with an extraordinary mind. This realization led me to ponder my pursuit of my previously assigned match-made-in-heaven.

The community college-educated* 25 year old man from Indiana, as you can tell from my previous posts, is far from extraordinary. After reading some of our correspondences aloud to Mike (emphasizing the misuse of they're/their, etc.), the two of us decided that Indiana-man was anything but my match made in heaven.

But we all knew this from the start.

There is only one reason for sustaining my dialogue with this man. Indiana-man is a case study of the type of man I would never date ... Could never date. I'm simply exploring his mind. Our (hour?/are?) romance is just an experiment.

Does he know this? Of course not. He thinks I'm that girl who's trying to be smart by using big words. Well, you know what, "incarceration" isn't that big of a word. And while he does know who Kant was**, his community college philosophy class just can't stack up to my quality Jesuit education.

*"Remember, Kant was a philosopher" began one reply, but apparently Kant's problem is that he couldn't decide if he was a libertarian or a determinist

**really, just see the previous footnote

Sign Language

2006-03-02T18:17:00.000-06:00

I've been sick for what seems like forever and today could barely talk. This initially seemed like it could pose problems when trying to work with all the kindergartners at my school. However, I found myself with a certain respect for the institution as I was allowed to hang out with all the kids who sign instead of "using their words." I've been picking up on the signing for the past year and it was a blast to hang out without talking. I think drunk people should be forced to use this skill, even if their motor skills are for shit.

Later, I came home to my roommate, Mikey P, attempting to do some sign language of his own. Here is our conversation - I'm sure someone can identify with this:

Mike: So what? You and him are like (insert subtle and nondescript movement of right hand)?
Me: Are we what?
Mike: You know - (hand movements)
Me: What are you even talking about? What is this (hand movement) supposed to mean?
Mike: I don't know, I thought maybe you knew. But, seriously, how are things between you two?

My blog has become somewhat mundane. I guess I'll wait for something interesting / funny / disgusting to occur and then it will be the most fascinating and widely read account of a boring college student's life EVER.

My Mental Health Soapbox

2006-03-01T21:28:00.000-06:00

As a preface to this post, I would like to position myself as the kind of person that gets in arguments with her professors on a relatively frequent basis. For instance, recently I found myself in a steamed debate in which I started citing current research on sex offender typology after somone made a comment assuming that homosexuals are a threat to our children and that any young boys who are molested are the victims of homosexuals. Now that's just crazy. I mean, consider Groth's research on the fixated or regressed molester. Or even look at the general typology of pedophilia vs situational abuse.

Maybe the fact is I'm just creepy because I feel like this is something everyone should know. As if a working knowledge of sexual abuse should be common sense.

ANYWAY
Today, in my criminal violence in America class, Dr. K was discussing the nature of "the offender." Now, keeping in mind that offender refers to many people from many walks of life, I found it quite fascinating when he pulled this explanation for criminality out of all possible others:

"You see, these people are fine one minute and the next minute they snap. I mean, there's a new word out there - bipolar. We just see these criminals and they're bipolar. Bipolar people have a tendency to fly off the handle and when they do, they commit these violent crimes"

And the only thing I could think about while raising my hand, completely aware that the other 60 people in the class have diligently written down that bipolar people commit crimes, was Excuse me, What? Which is what I said when called upon, leading to a five minute rant by myself fondly known as my mental health soap box.

Is this so wrong?

On Poor Grammar and the Fall of Man

2006-02-28T22:16:00.000-06:00

Today, being Fat Tuesday, prompts me to reflect on the nature of Christianity, concupiscence and excess.

Firstly, on the topic of humanity's concupiscence. There's this guy in Indiana that, for whatever reason, thinks I'm cool and would like to start a relationship with me. That's great and all because we all know that after what I will refer to as "the Tim Fiasco" it would be fabulous to date someone with an ounce of integrity. Although this man is a nice fellow, there is one problem, significant enough to possibly keep me from dating him. Call me pretentious, but this man has poor grammar and I just can't see myself with someone who confuses classics like there and their or your and you're. Do I have any other dating prospects? The chances seem slim. Anyone? Anyone?
Someone ask me on a date already.

On another topic, I would like to enlighten you with a piece of knowledge I gained in my addiction seminar. There is a girl in the class who hates ethical theory. That's all fine and dandy as it is not my cup of tea either. But, the professor chimes in with the fact that philosophical discourse is relevant to any sort of democracy in that one must decide how to treat others. However, her solution to this matter was not to concede the point, but rather to say that Anarchy is the best form of government. Upon hearing arguments from the rest of the class as to why Anarchy can never work in practice, she comes back with what can only be considered a gem of a statement:

"Well, we need government now because there are too many rules. In the beginning there was only One rule. If it weren't for the fall of man, anarchy would be the ideal way to run things."

This is mostly the reason religious people get a bad rap - because people like this girl claim the "fall of man" as a legitimate excuse to a current state of government.

The Cool Kid Club

2006-02-27T23:45:00.000-06:00

Today I decided to waste a good amount of time. I thought this could best be accomplished by reading a magazine and watching TV. Sadly, there were no magazines in my apartment to be read and Michael Anthony was immersed in some historical documentary lasting hours. My only option was to begin my blog. So here I am, trying to think of good blog topics.

My brainstorm:
1) the stupid kids in my addiction seminar
2) mundane and/or extraordinary happenings at apartment K
3) concerts I will talk about seeing and yet, fail to see
4) the random things I hear people say and my thoughts related to them.

That being said, along the lines of #4- I was in Madison this weekend hanging out with a great indie-pop band from Austin. We were walking down State Street in an attempt to show these out of towners the quintessential Madison experience when I happened to overhear this snippet from a passerby:

"Most people don't really like it, but the one time I was hooked up to an IV, it was the greatest time of my life."

HELLO?

2006-01-13T00:19:00.000-06:00

HELLO? IS THIS THING ON?