Weird Fact #3: I'm going to start calling these "quirks"

We all have our weird quirks, and one of mine has to do with how I read magazines. I don't like to read them cover to cover, because then I feel sad and defeated when I finish too early. If I have a magazine in my hand, it is coveted reading material because I almost always am reading it on a plane, or while waiting for a plane, the two most boring places known to man. (I no longer subscribe to any magazines because my two faves went out of business and there are too many National Geographics to choose just one. Should I go for the Traveler? Or the original. I can never decide.)

Instead, I read each individually purchased magazine three times. First, I read it back to front. Usually in the back there are interesting short things I want to read first- like my horoscope. I need to know how my month/ week/ etc is going to turn out. And I need to know that immediately.

Then I read it center to back, so I can read the essays/ longer articles. I don't always finish the longer articles because that involves finding the ending pieces in the back, which by then I am not in the mood for, as it is my second time at the end of the magazine, and I kind of feel like-- been there, done that.

Next, I pick up where I started in the center, and read again back towards the front. I know this is starting to sound repetitive, but I am telling you, it is not. With all of the ads and the shortness of these beginning articles, and being bored with the magazine the first time you got to this point, you can find a lot of new stuff in there.

Last, I start at page one, and go through the entire magazine with a fine tooth comb because for some bizarre reason, I know I missed an article, a tidbit, a cover story. I probably missed the reason I bought the magazine in the first place and I am like a detective, desperate to find it. And eventually I do. Because I can get through this part pretty rapidly, I finally take the time to read the end of those articles I read back in my first read through. I am always disappointed.

By the time I have done all of this, I am exhausted and can take a nap, which, it turns out, was the point of this whole process.

Weird Fact #2: The Dollar Bill is Obsolete

There are a lot of reasons I need to rely on quarters these days. Okay, there are two reasons I need to rely on quarters- Buying diet coke in the vending machine at work and laundry.

Every time I go to do either of those things, I get my quarters in order. To do that, I absolutely must check to see what states are on the backs. Then, I choose the 3 plus states I like the least (If the quarter is so old there isn't a state on the back, that automatically trumps even my least favorite state- Texas- and gets used first) to use for my purchase/ load of laundry.

I also double check the states when loaning quarters out. Yup, that's right. If you borrow a quarter from me I will have given you my least favorite state in the slew of quarters hanging out in my change purse.

Weird Fact #1

I have a tendency to obsess over efficiency. This becomes even more extreme when it comes to choosing the best possible route to get to a place, especially when walking.

• I don't like backtracking unless unavoidable.
• I will draw to-scale diagrams if you don't believe that my route is better than yours.
• I won't back down until you have tried my way and agreed with me.

I live in Boston. We may sometimes call them "blocks" but let's be honest, this is no New York City grid pattern. That means, taking the "parallel" road doesn't mean it is the same distance. I can recognize the slight difference in distance and then I take the shorter route. It's pretty simple geometry usually; I've always liked triangles.

Sometimes people try to argue with me; mainly because I am not great with directions so sure, don't trust me. But, I am right. I don't need google maps to determine the fastest route. If I know a route, then I know a route, and I know which way is faster. I tried to explain to a co-worker why walking the back route to the bus stop was better than walking out to the main road first, and she couldn't understand how that could be when technically you were walking away from the main road to take the back road. But, the distance from the entrance to the back road was about one-tenth the distance of the entrance to the main road. Then, when taking the back road, to connect with the main road again, the distance between the back road and the main road is about half the distance of the entrance to the main road. Add to the math that the back road doesn't have any intersections, so no corners to wait on until the lights to change, and you can almost get to the bus in two-thirds the amount of the time as taking the main road. Makes perfect sense in my head.

So basically, I spend half my life thinking about the best possible route from point A to point B. I don't try to think about it, it just happens until I've come up with a solution. I just discovered that walking up the street "parallel" to my street one extra block means not only a shorter distance to my apartment, but also less steep of an incline. Score!

Tag, You're It

Some people have fond memories of playing tag. Sure, I liked it as a kid... I mean it was something to do when you were confined to the blacktop or you didn't want to play kickball at recess. Honestly, I was more of a four square girl- I think being petite helps when playing in tiny spaces. However, it appears I have been tagged, which means I am it... And sorry for the delay, I guess I thought this was freeze tag.

Here are the rules:

(1) Link to the person that tagged you, and post the rules on your blog. Click here for Diane's blog. I've also added her to my blogs of note list, because she said she will be updating her blog with her 7 random/weird facts and I think we all need to know about those.

2. Share 7 random and/or weird facts about yourself. I think I am going to do what Diane is doing and wait to post these in my next posts. Muah ha ha. Also, it is late and I am not feeling creative right now.

3. Tag 7 random people at the end of your post, and include links to their blogs. Here are the people I've tagged:
Cupcakes for Spite
Chaos Personified
Through the Circuits of Time
Sure, I know that's not seven, but that's the best I can do, because I am more of a blog stalker; I don't actually know most of the people whose blogs I read. I know it says "random" but I don't care.


4. Let each person know that they've been tagged by leaving a comment on their blog. Doing that shortly.

New Blog!

For those of you who follow my blog-- have no fear, I am not going anywhere. However, a couple of friends and I are all contributing to a blog that is going to focus on ... well, it isn't really going to focus on anything. But, there will be reviews, life issues, event listings, etc. It's going to be good. I promise. And I don't make promises lightly.

So, if you want to check it out-- here's the link:

JUST FOR SCUZ

Please become a follower, it will make us feel oh-so-good about ourselves.

But also note: This is a new blog, so it is still in the very beginning formative stages. It is only going to get better, so stick with it, please.

Deja Vu

NaNoWriMo is almost over and I have barely finished 3,000 words. Sure, I have one more day to get the remaining 47,000 words entered... but will I do it? Probably not.

I am sure you are thinking--- why is she writing this post instead of her novel? Well, I think by now you all know me well enough that I will pretty much do anything to not do what I am supposed to be doing. Right now, I think it is more important to outline my excuses for the pending failure of this year's NaNoWriMo than to actually write my novel. Here they are:

(1) I am incapable of self motivation. For whatever reason, if no one is there to check over my work, I just can't get things done. I know this is a bad quality I probably shouldn't share on things like job interviews, but it's the truth. If someone was forcing me to turn in work every day, I'd get this done. Without that, it's going to be like junior year all over again where I'd write my final draft of the essay and then fudge the rough draft later so my teacher could see "the process."

(2) I am a procrastinator to my detriment. I used to be able to get huge projects done in short periods of time, because the pressure of a deadline would force me to rise to the challenge. In fact, I took great pride in this character trait of mine, because, really, who else but me can pull off the amount of work I have gotten done in such short amounts of time? No one. Or at least, no one I have ever met yet. Those of you who know me in college know what I am talking about. Last minute trips to the library to grab all the oversized Art History books that were left, pages and pages of notes, borrowing my roommates laptop so I could find a quiet spot on campus to type into the wee hours, etc etc etc. This project however, was maybe too big for even me to handle. Maybe not. Only time will tell.

(3) I am not Jewish. It has come to my realization that many successful writers I like are Jewish. There must be a correlation between Jewish people and being able to write productively.

(4) My novel is not about me. With the word novel, you automatically assume fiction, so of course I was writing my novel about something made up. Now, I have to say, I like the theme of my novel, and if it ever came to fruition perhaps Oprah would like it too. But, it's not about me. I can write thousands of words a day (boring or otherwise) about me, but it takes me a while to get into the nitty gritty of other characters' lives. I know, I know, you'd think I'd like the characters I created myself enough to want to write about them, but I don't have a God complex so that's not the case.

(5) I think I have carpal tunnel. I always find that people take pity on you and believe your excuses more if they are medical. Even more so if involves an injury that would be physically debilitating. For some reason saying something like "mentally, I just couldn't write today" doesn't have the same amount of clout as saying "I broke my two hands and therefore couldn't write today because I don't have voice recognition on my computer." Since if you see me you will see I did not in fact break my hands, I feel like carpal tunnel is the way to go in this one.

(6) I'm only capable of writing lists. There, I said it. I am not a story teller, I am a list maker. And sometimes those lists turn into stories because I am not even a very good list maker. How can I make a list into a novel... wait a minute, now there's an idea.

(7) I have ADD. Okay, this one isn't true. But it would prevent me from writing a novel if it were true.

(8) I'm tired and lazy. I just wanted to spend my thanksgiving eating turkey and reading other people's writing. I didn't want to have to write, okay? I also like napping?

(9) Did I mention I ran a road race yesterday? No, this doesn't affect my ability to write, but I did have to train for it (using the word 'train' incredibly loosely) which meant getting up to run, then working, which then resulted in being tired and lazy. (See above excuse for more details on that one).

(10) So I don't have a 10th excuse, but I am putting a 10 next to this sentence anyway. What? Nine excuses aren't good enough for you people? You think I should have been able to finish the impossible task of writing a novel in a month. Thanks. Thanks for your support. I appreciate it.

I'm going to go babysit the munchkin now, and will write my novel later. Maybe next year. Or maybe this year. Who knows. No one. Not even me.

NaNoWriMo, etc

Today is Nov 1 or the first day in the National Novel Writing Month, which, yes, I will be participating in this year and will hopefully get done with more than 2,000 words, because that was just embarrassing.

I'm already off to a great start. I woke up this morning thinking I was going to hit the ground running by attending the Boston NaNoWriMo write in/ kick off at a location that is walking distance from my apartment. Instead, I laid around for a while, checked my email, and then texted Tim "Do you want to skip the write in?" Being a good sport, he replied that that was fine, but for all I know he is there now writing his 2,000plus words today so he can be ahead of me and win.

The problem is that I am a procrastinator. I've never been one to stretch out a project over a long period of time. In fact, I wrote a 30 page semester long research paper start to finish the day before it was due my senior year of college. Sure, that is not 50,000 words, but what I mean is, I need pressure. With 30 days to go, I am just not feeling it.

Instead, I decided to work on my Halloween costume. Yeah, all of you people celebrated Halloween yesterday night, but in my world, real Halloween is today because there are parties today. After much ado I decided my costume was going to be Not A Happy Camper. This means I am going to dress like I am going camping and look unhappy, with the aid of some accessories and props like a marshmallow in my hair and a burnt pant leg.

So, I hop on off to CVS/Whole Foods/White Hen to pick up some supplies. In CVS I grabbed some red lip liner so I can make it look like I got attacked by a bear with some strategically placed claw marks on my arm. In Whole Foods I picked up some marshmallows so I can stick them on my hair (because the absolute WORST thing that can happen while camping is getting marshmallow stuck in your hair). In the White Hen I grabbed a sandwich for lunch. I got back to my apartment and grabbed my mail. My parents sent me a Halloween card with a note that said to buy something spooky and "be safe." Promptly thereafter I fired up my gas stove and started experimenting with burning things.

Can I tell you how easy it is to make perfectly burnt marshmallows on a gas stove? I need 2 for my costume (any more would mean I'd have to rename my costume to "Girl Who Got Marshmallowed" or "The Girl No One Likes on the Camping Trip") and I made two and I was done. Granted, they aren't the perfect specimens of toasted marshmallow goodness that I'd actually want to eat, but they are exactly what you would want in a marshmallow for a costume. An activity I thought would take hours, actually took minutes. Blast.

Of course, this does free up my afternoon a little bit. I could get started on my novel. I could at least write an outline (do writers really make outlines?) or maybe some potential plotlines so I have a starting point. But instead, I will likely paint my nails and eat that sandwich I bought. And then I will probably make some more marshmallows. And then it will be late and I will have to throw my costume together. I've just now decided I don't really want to burn my old jeans even though they have holes in them. I think I might go burn some more marshmallows.

UPDATE: My costume is done and it is lame. I pretty much look like a camper with a couple of marshmallow barrettes and red lip liner streaked on my arm. However, at least I won't be the person who shows up dressed like static cling.

Talky Talk Radio

I do not like talk radio (with the exception of the alt.npr love and radio podcast I follow and listen to on my way to work sometimes... and Car Talk).

I think all of the hate stems from when I was a young and impressionable teenager on the same morning schedule as my mother who used to blast terrible morning radio shows throughout the house. I admit, there was a time when I used to laugh at the phony phone prank calls on my 7 minute drive to work during the summers at 6:52AM, however more than 7 minutes was too much for me and if I had to leave the program mid-joke, I never wondered what the punch line was later. I realize some people like this and I am not judging you by your taste in radio, I just need to state the fact that this particular noise is not music to my ears.

Anyway, I have been having trouble with my alarm clock because I moved one alarm clock into my family room so I would have a clock in there as well as the fact that it doubles as an iPod dock and is quite bright for a bedroom (although I am not the type to mind light in a bedroom while sleeping) and so I moved my other, older, alarm clock into my bedroom for waking up purposes. Turns out the reason I got a new alarm clock was because the old alarm clock tends to be on the fritz. I had forgotten that and overslept and was late to work a couple of times since the switch. Thus, I decided I'd keep my iPod alarm/dock where it was and just start using my phone as my alarm. It is quite handy because although it only lets you hit snooze five times before it shuts off (for a total of 25 minutes of snoozage), you can have a second or even third alarm set to go off again after you know you will have hit the snooze on the previous alarm the max number of times. I have set my phone alarm for three alarms-- two with nice melodic tones and one that is a high pitched beeping sound that alerts me I am in the danger zone and have to get up or just call out sick to work.

The point of the story is, I have been living in this lovely life of three alarms and all is well, when one morning I wake up to MORNING TALK RADIO blasting in my ears. The horror! I jumped out of bed immediately to turn it off and stare at the possessed clock radio. One day it decides to work properly, and all the fiddling I had done previously made it tuned to a radio station that insists on talking to you in the early hours. Horrible. Horrible.

I thought my run ins with that sort of radio genre were over... until today when I discovered that iTunes has a radio feature. How handy, I thought to myself as I perused the many musical offerings including a few from Italy although none that specialized in French Rap. Then, I click on Comedy thinking maybe I could listen to some good stand up. But no.

The first program in the queue was a station entirely devoted to prank phone calls, and in my happy and enthusiastic clicking I had accidentally set it off and even more accidentally turned up the volume. And then my computer froze.

I was forced to listen, cringing and scowling all the while, for a good 5 minutes before I realized I could stop it by turning off my computer (which I did).

While writing this post I am listening to my neighbor have a very personal conversation with what sounds to be her significant other. This makes me think that maybe, just maybe, she can hear my phone alarm go off 11 times in the AM and my 10pm fight with the phoney phone radio station. Maybe this is why no one has said hello to me in the stairwell.

Oh.My.Garbage.

What is the obsession with garbage disposal needing to be done in a certain way? Why do cities need to be so particular about it? In the past 2 or 3 weeks I have gotten several notices and talking tos about the proper way to get rid of garbage. Whatever happened to leave it on the street on garbage day and somebody takes it?

Now, I know in SW, you need to have all of your garbage in the town approved garbage bin because their garbage trucks double as robots. If your garbage isn't in that bin, facing a certain direction, the arm that comes down from the truck to pick up the bin won't get it. I understand that-- with technology comes great responsibility.

However, in Somerville, there are no gar-bots, but not only do you need to have your trash in bins but also if you have an excess of trash and you run out of bins, your house will get a citation. Not just a shame on you citation, a real one, with money involved. Okay, so what do you do if one day you have more than your share of garbage? Well, you call the city of Somerville (3-1-1) and ask them. After giving all of the information you have about you, where you live, what your concern/issue is, they say: "Okay, I have entered your claim. We'll call you back." Click.

My question was: Where can I dispose of my excess garbage? Is there a dump I can drop it off at? On moving day do they still issue citations for garbage not properly disposed of in garbage bins?

A simple "Here are directions to the dump" or "Buy more bins" was really all it takes. I'd assume if you are answering the phone for the city of Somerville you must have access to these solutions if not in your head than at least at your fingertips. But no, when inquiring about garbage disposal solutions, they'll have to call you back.

So then we decide we would try to find a dump on our own. Nothing is listed on the Somerville and surrounding areas websites and then the internet ceases working. Strike two.

Our landlady suggests we find a house that is already going to get fined for excess garbage and throw it on their pile. Apparently she abides by the rules but doesn't mind watching us break them.

Two doors down we find such a situation. It's a garbage ninja's (that's what we started calling ourselves) heaven--- there are broken pieces of furniture, bags of trash, etc. So, we start discreetly tossing our bags of garbage onto the already mountainous pile. Then, a man comes out onto his porch and says "Hey, are you the girls moving in downstairs?"

Us: "No."
Him: "Well, then what are you doing?"
Me: "Just getting rid of some garbage." (I figure, honesty is the best policy)
Him: 'Why don't you put it in front of your house?"
Us: "Our landlord doesn't want a citation and you are already getting one." (There, we said it.)
Him: "Well, we already have a lot of trash and there is going to be more, so you really can't add to our pile."

Um okay--- so apparently, some people are protective of their illegal piles of garbage. Seriously? What's 6 more bags of garbage on your already gynormous pile? Who are these people?

Finally we debate the prospect of finding an apartment building's dumpster and adding our garbage to that. I call a friend who lives near one, she says that it isn't going to work because we will get in trouble. Commercial ones also won't work, that's illegal. Jokers.

I end up calling my friend Heidi because she is a wealth of information on useful things (she is a real grown-up while I just pretend to be one) and she tells me to just come over and use her garbage bins. So I do. I bring the 6 bags to a friend's garbage bin, no problem.

What kind of a world is where I cannot drive to a dump to drop off garbage? Or leave it on the street in sturdy bags? Or put it in someone else's dumpster? Why does life have to be this hard?

Anyway, today, I walk in my front door to my new building and there is a sign about the proper disposal of trash. In Boston, no bins required, but they must be in black or white sturdy garbage bags (NO GROCERY BAGS), failure to comply with these rules will result in a citation on our landlord. All of my stuff was in garbage bags, so I am a rule abiding citizen... except I haven't put my boxes out. I wonder if because if those are potentially recyclable I can leave a box of boxes out? Or will that be a problem? How can I find this information out? Maybe I can call the city of Boston...oh, right. They'll have to call me back tomorrow.

Misheard, Misunderstood

Holy mashed potatoes batman, I was just in my car singing along to Murder on the Dance Floor, and I had the sudden realization I have been singing the chorus wrong all these years...... It's not "It's murder on the dance floor, but you better not kill the groom," It's "You better not kill the groove."

Woah, this changes everything. I had imagined that Sophie Ellis-Baxtor was a wedding singer, and there was a disaster (a murder!) on the dance floor at one of the weddings that she was performing at, and she was saying, "Just don't kill the groom... I mean, a murder at a wedding is one thing, but it is best not to ruin it completely by killing off the wedding party as well, least of all not the groom, or bride for that matter. Thanks."

I'm (a) an idiot but (b) secretly like my version of the song better. It is much more interesting in a dramatic kind of way. Would make an excellently twisted music video.

I know, I know, what's wrong with me? I'm sure I don't know.

The Next Comic Standing

Have any of you watched The Next Comic Standing? I think it needs a name change. It should be called The Next and Last Comic Standing. The whole premise of the show is to get 5 comics to the finals to be judged by America, but they are too busy recapping the Last Comic and previewing the Next Comic for us to even make those decisions. In the middle of the last episode, there was one whole clip sandwiched between commercial breaks that was all about what happened last and what was happening next, with no comedy bits.

I don't know, I guess some people don't have TiVo and they are like fish or dogs with less than 30 second memories or something, but I just saw that and I don't need you to tell me what happened and since there are only 7 people coming up I am guessing one of them is next. I mean, if there was some crazy twist where all of a sudden my phone is ringing and the producers are on the line saying "Jenn we need you to do some stand up on the show" and adding me to the competition then yes, please do let me know. But no, who's next? Oh, one of the seven comics? Really? Shocking. Why didn't you warn me. I went to go make pasta because I thought that it was going to cut to Little House On the Prairie for the next 5 minutes.

Also, has anyone noticed that one of the comics may have changed his name? I swear Jeff Dye used to be called Jack Dye. And I remember this only because I think Jack Dye is handsome and part of his handsomeness was in the name Jack (the other part is in his fluorescent attire). "Jack" is a handsome name. "Jeff" is a crap shoot. I think maybe I heard him say his middle name is "Jackpot" (classy) and that is why sometimes he goes by Jack, but since we are dealing with viewers who can't remember what happened in the last 20 seconds of the show, I don't think it is a good idea to change your name Jack/Jeff. Pick one, go with it, and don't confuse the viewers. Half will try to vote for Jeff, the other half will go with Jack, and it's bad to split your own votes. Yikes. (Note: I did some research and maybe he has always been Jeff. I don't know because I don't have the original episode saved on TiVo, but I swear it said Jack once. I really do. But, I could be wrong, my memory is not so good these days and no one kept me posted. All it would take is a little bit of the following: "Here is Jeff formerly known as Jack and currently known as Jeff but potentially to be known as Jack again shortly" to keep me up to speed on his name). (Second Note: I just found the original clip and yes it says Jeff but it sounds like Jack. So I guess I am a good listener but a bad reader. I think I was distracted by the tall vanilla latte in a bright green shirt).

Last, I missed the episode where Paul Foot got kicked off, and I am sad about Paul Foot leaving but I am not sad I missed the show. I heard Carrot Top was the special guest and I don't really like Carrot Top: (a) he scares me with his crazy hair and crazier eyes and (b) is it really necessary to call yourself "Carrot Top"? Really? Carrots aren't even red.

For those of you who don't know who Paul Foot is or why I like him, here is a clip:


UPDATE: If you watch this video until 4 minutes 40 seconds you will get to his cake bit. Thanks, Brooke!

The Art of Procrastination, by Jenn

Lately I have found that the only way for me to get things done is to schedule time for it. So today I scheduled time to sort through my clothes and clean my room. I want to get everything organized before I go to Costa Rica so when I come back I can actually enjoy my summer instead of having a messy room that I will have to pack up hanging over my head.

However, my room to me is like a candy store to a kid. It has all kinds of amazing and useless things in it. So far today this what I have done:

1. Sorted through the clothes in my first 5 drawers. The 6th drawer I couldn't reach while laying on my bed, so I didn't get to that one.

2. Had brilliant idea of putting all of my dirty clothes in my laundry basket and clean clothes on my bed. Discovered that my laundry basket was filled with fancy dresses. Tried them all on. Danced around my room to test twirlability of each dress.

3. Skimmed the book on writing a book in a month. Got overwhelmed.

4. Found my journal that has all of my future short story titles in it and tried to determine if any of them could be turned into a book. Decided that short story titles really can only one day become short stories. Thought about writing a book of short stories. Wondered if that would qualify for writing a book in a month.

5. Doodled images of owls.

6. Sharpened a new number 1 pencil, "just in case."

7. Found a half drank bottle of root beer (diet). Tasted it. Flat and warm, just the way I like it.

8. Looked for motivation under my bed. Instead found a kit that teaches one how to make friendship bracelets. Thought about making one. Decided against it. Remembered that I had a kit that would teach me the art of Chinese brush painting. Looked for that. Found it on the top shelf of my closet. Too high up to reach and my chair was covered in stuff, so instead I read a few short stories in a book of short stories.

9. Stripped the sheets off my bed, then took a short nap on the bare mattress.

10. Made a "Cleaning Playlist" for my iPod. Synchronized my iPod. Listened to Playlist. Didn't like it. Rearranged the order. Resynched. Liked it.

11. Spotted the belated birthday present I bought for my roommate Liz. Wrapped it so it looked like a cupcake using only tape and tissue paper.

12. Started sorting through my mail. Then started reading my mail. Read the March issue of Martha Stewart Living. Remembered that the only reason why I get Martha Stewart Living is because Blueprint was cancelled. Got annoyed. Read back issues of Blueprint.

13. Remembered a conversation I had with a colleague about whether or not is was environmentally responsible to travel by stretch hummer instead of a cab. Researched the MPG of a stretch hummer and compared it with the MPG of an ordinary Boston cab. Calculated that our stretch hummer which was used to transport 20 people from EF to the restaurant used twice as much gas as one cab would have. However, one cab couldn't hold 20 people, so we would have needed 5 cabs, so in the end we saved .3 gallon of gas by taking the stretch hummer.

14. Realized it was 5pm and that my room was actually messier than when I started, my bed was unmade, and that I had wasted over 5 hours of my time. Wrote this post.

THE END

Who doesn't love Dyson?

Woah, I am totally obsessed with Dyson vacuums. I really wish I had one. Is anyone else with me on this one? If I had a spare $400+ and the need for a really fancy vacuum, I'd totally buy a Dyson. Move over Hoover, you are toast. There's a new vacuum in town and it is the Dyson Ball. It turns on a dime and never loses suction. The increased maneuverability is due to the motor inside the ball, giving it a lower of center of gravity (genius) and the incredible amount of suction occurs because of the Dyson patented root cyclone technology. I find this amazing.

I think the reason why I am fascinated with Dyson vacuums is the commercials. First of all, they star the inventor himself, and he is so passionate about suction that he actually makes me want to be passionate about vacuum suction. I truly believe that if you are passionate about what you do, then that passion can extend to anyone you talk to. That's why infomercials work so well.

My newfound passion about suction actually extends to hand dryer suction as well. Have you seen the Dyson Airblade? It is the most amazing hand dryer in the universe. Watching the commercial for the Airblade makes me want to purchase one. For the apartment I rent. Yup, that's right. I want to buy a hand dryer for my rented apartment's bathroom. Like that makes any sense.

Watch the commercial below at your own risk. It could make you spend lots of money on suction:

The I Hate Lisa Club official as of Wednesday night

Everywhere, USA- Viewers of Bravo’s hit reality program Top Chef bleched, blehhed and auuuuuuggghhed in unison last night after the airing of its most recent episode when it was determined that “Moana” Lisa would remain on the show for yet another day. Instead, Spike “Both my grandfathers were butchers and I like hats” Mendelsohn was voted out of the mansion and back to his real life as a fancy shmancy Chef de Cuisine in Tribeca. After the booing died down across the country (11pm Eastern, 10 pm Central) it was decided that an un-fan club needed to be formed, later dubbed the I Hate Lisa Club.

Members of the newfound club voiced their concerns that Lisa remains on the show because she is rude, obnoxious, loud, and ugly among other things and all of this makes for good TV. They feel as though keeping a character like Lisa on and into the final four sacrifices the high standards the show has been known for in the past. Is this not a competition among the best chefs in the country and shouldn’t the best be given an opportunity to win--- instead, Bravo appears to allow crazy-psychos stay on the show for a few measly ratings.

It’s true. I plan to watch the show mainly because I want to see which of the final 3 will punch Lisa in the face first. I also have been dying for a new bacon recipe, and since that is Lisa’s specialty I am hoping she will make it several more times so I can get a recipe off of this travesty at least. Oh wait, I don’t need a recipe to make BACON. Silly me. Maybe I will whip up some peanut butter mashed potatoes tonight because THAT SOUNDS APPETIZING.

Moving on and away from the fake news story format, I just have to say, what is the deal with keeping Lisa on the show? Come on! I know Spike isn’t a fan favorite either, but you can tell he has good skills. And he wears cool hats. And he is easier on the eyes than Lisa. He won the quick fire by making lollipop chops, didn’t he? I mean, Lisa has been on the chopping block for the past few weeks and every week I sit on my couch and hope and pray and wish and hope and wish and pray for Lisa to get told to pack her knives and go and it NEVER happens. Instead, she has one redeeming quality or she throws her friends (yeah, they are her friends because she wants to ‘keep in touch no matter what happens’—um, no one is going to keep in touch with you Lisa because you are evil and mean) under the bus and then someone who is far more talented than she is gets kicked off. Gross.

If you are interested in joining the I Hate Lisa Club, please send a check or money order to me at my address for $19.95 plus shipping and handling and I will send you this lovely t-shirt.

Road Rage Cured By Insane Amounts of Traffic

Somewhere between South Windsor, CT and Somerville, MA, the disease I previously thought to be terminal- the strain of intense anger known as Massholitis Road Ragemonia, which causes inexplicable flare ups of unreasonable bouts of madness while driving- ceased to exist within my system.

At exit 72 on route 84, when traffic screeched to a halt at 7:50pm on Sunday night, I thought for sure I would fly off the handle if I was forced to drive bumper to bumper with the world's worst drivers (The Moms and The Dads who drop their kids off at college after Easter/Spring Break) at 20 mph for the next 5 minutes. After following an idiot- no, make that a stupidiot- who preferred to chat with his friends instead of paying attention to the road forcing me to downshift unnecessarily 6 or 7 or 100 times, I waited for my blood to begin boiling. When I had gone only 7 miles in 30 minutes, and was only at Charleton Plaza(CHARLETON PLAZA) almost 2 hours into my journey, mainly due to the fact that nobody knows how to merge or pick up toll tickets in a quick and speedy manner, I expected the feeling of uncontrollable anger to take over my system in the form of laying my hand on the horn for 15 minutes straight, but that feeling never came.

Instead, I found myself looking at the positive side of things. It's not every day I get to practice driving in such horrendous traffic with such irresponsible drivers! After getting through the worst of it, I gave myself seventeen pats on the back and one high five (even though high fives aren't my style) because I did such a fantastic job coasting easily through the jam.

I also took advantage of the additional time I was in the car. That mix CD I made before I went home for Easter on Saturday? I now know the lyrics to every song, including "You Can Call Me Al." I am bringing up "You Can Call Me Al" specifically, because this is a song I have liked for many years, not because of the content of the lyrics or even the catchy tune but because I always found the music video hysterical. Tonight, for the first time ever, I actually took the time to listen to the words of the song, because I realized I only knew the first part and the chorus and during the rest of it I would hum along and wait until the "Na-na-na---na!" part. Do you know what I discovered after listening to this song repeatedly? The words make NO sense AT ALL.

When I finally made it home, I went immediately to my mactop to look up the meaning of the lyrics. The only tidbit of information Wikipedia gave me was this: "The names in the song came from an incident at a party that Simon went to with his wife Peggy Harper. The host of the party called Paul "Al", and Peggy "Betty", inspiring Simon to write a song." Well, Wiki, that doesn't nearly explain who the man is who walks down the street, soft in the middle and short of attention span who needs a photo opportunity and is worried about ending up a cartoon in a cartoon graveyard. Why did his role model disappear with a roly poly bat-faced girl? How did he end up in a strange world (maybe it is the third world) without currency?

Actually, Wiki, the only part I didn't question was the chorus, because I figured that if you'll be my bodyguard then I'll be your long lost pal. I can call you Betty, and Betty, when you call me, you can call me Al.

I don't even know what this post is about anymore, but here is the video:

Horatio Caine: The new Chuck Norris?

Lately, I have become a little obsessed with CSI: Miami. I know, I know, I know, I know- that is a completely lame-o thing to say. But, what I am going to say next is even more lame than the fact that I like CSI: Miami (by and far nationally known as the CSI show with the least depth and with the most ridiculous plot lines), I love love love the character Horatio Caine.

Yes, Horatio Caine is the over-dramatic, not handsome (unless you like that sort of thing), redheaded (in Miami? How does he not have a sunburn all the time?), sunglass sporting, catch-phrase spouting, crime scene investigator. He is the head of his operation and does a mighty fine job.

Since I have started watching CSI: Miami (on A&E-- I don't watch new episodes; I prefer to watch reruns out of order so I can piece together the puzzle that is the drama of this show) I have come to the conclusion that Horatio Caine is the new Chuck Norris.

For starters, we need a replacement Chuck Norris. It has come to the point in time where drop kicking everything is starting to get old. Yes, I love the Chuck Norris anecdotes that are out there on the world wide web, but what we truly need is fresh meat. I nominate Horatio Caine, or H, as I fondly refer to him as, to step up to the plate. (H doesn't step up to the plate, actually, the plate steps up to him).

Horatio has what it takes to be the next Chuck Norris phenomena. He is dramatic. He wears sunglasses. He is so intimidating that he can say something like "See you later.... alligator" and make your hair curl. He stands on the top of buildings to survey the crime scene. He flies to Rio to avenge his brother and wife when the need arises.

Not only does he have intimidation down pat, he has a team of followers who are willing to support him on his journey of being the most redheaded, most dramatic CSI in the history of CSIs.

Finally, Chuck Norris is a redhead, so it only natural for him to be replaced by another redhead. It just makes sense. I wouldn't replace an apple with an orange, ya know?

In case you still weren't sure if Horatio Caine could be the new Chuck Norris, here are a few H facts for you to nibble on (mostly courtesy of my friend Heidi- a secret Horatio Caine impersonator- although yours truly did indeed come up with the last one).

• There is no control button on Horatio Caine's computer. Horatio Caine is ALWAYS in control.
• Horatio Caine has destroyed the periodic table because he only recognizes the element of surprise.
• Horatio Caine doesn't listen to music. Music listens to Horatio Caine.

In conclusion, if you are reading this and you have no idea what I am talking about, feast your eyes on the ultimate montage of Horatio Caine-isms:


And if you still aren't convinced, check out the sunglasses reel:


I think I made my point. 'Nuff said.

Why trying to meet a guy in Boston is like being on Rock of Love

Those of you who knew VH1 when it was still "Video Hits One" or even when it was referred to as "Music First" would be surprised to know it is now the place where washed up celebs go to star in their own reality TV shows. I'm not exaggerating. I watched VH1 for a few hours yesterday and did not see a single video hit. Not a one. I did, however, see Scott Baio and the actor who played Peter from the Brady Bunch.

Anyway, while I was watching what turned into a VH1 marathon session, I began to come to a few conclusions as to why the dating scene in Boston is so messed up. Why? All of the guys in Boston seem to think they are participating in the VH1 reality program Rock of Love.

Oh, you've never seen Rock of Love? Let me fill you in on the deets. It is basically a rock music inspired version of The Bachelor with Bret Michaels as the bachelor and a lot of girls all bright-eyed and bushy-tailed vying for the part of his future girlfriend. Instead of roses, at the end of every episode he hands out back stage passes and says "Will you stay here and continue to rock my world?" (Some of you may ask, 'who is Bret Michaels?' And although it has been posed 'Does anyone really know Bret Michaels?' the easy answer is that he is the former lead vocalist of the band Poison).

Here is how the Boston bar scene is like any episode of Rock of Love:

1. The Chase (or lack thereof). The guys just have to sit back and relax while the girls come to them. In any given bar in Boston on a Friday night, you will witness this phenomena. Like on Rock of Love, it doesn't matter what you look like if you are male- you could be a long locked, long lashed, bandanna wearing former lead singer of a band that I had to wikipedia to remember- and still have skinny girls in sparkly tops lined up in the hopes of getting your number.

2. The Competition. You might think talent shows and high kick competitions are limited to reality TV dating programs, but you are wrong. Have you heard of Karaoke night? What about dance-offs? Even twirling and mom-dancing aren't innocent moves. These are all ways the young ladies try to hook the young gentlemen. In real life, though, just as in TV, you need not be the best singer or the nicest person to win a date. I thought for surezies that Inna was toast because she was "rude to [my guest] Joan, and that is just disrespectful" but in the end Bret Michaels kept her on anyway.

3. The Drama. We like to blame the producers of the aforementioned reality TV show for keeping the drama queens on the program week after week after week. I mean, it does give us something to discuss the next morning at the water cooler if the "roller coaster of drama" is kept on even after Bret mislead us by saying "I like crazy girls, but this girl might be too crazy even for me." Come on. It's not the producers who want to keep Kristy Joe on the show, it is Bret Michaels himself. Bret, you wear mascara and I am pretty sure you make extra cash by being a hair model for Pantene, but I know your type. I'm almost a hundred percent wiki-certain that you used to blow up cars on stages for a living so I am confident that the fact Kristy Joe is a little melodramatic won't cramp your style. Boston men like drama, too. They aren't going to choose the wallflowers or the shrinking violets. No no no. They are going to choose the tall brunette who is having fun dancing with every guy while simultaneously looking mysterious with smoky eyes and choreographed hair flips... even though her ridiculously long nails reek of high maintenance and she didn't tip the bartender because he did not shake her cocktail with the proper amount of 'oompf.'

4. The Final Decision. That's as serious as it sounds. We all witnessed Bret this past week as he had to make the hard choice on who to send away. To quote Mr. Michaels himself: "I now need to shut down, go to my room, be alone, and think about this. Because somebody is going home." It is as though he is surprised he has to let someone go and he can't have them all "stay here and continue to rock [his] world." In Boston, most guys are shocked at the end of the night when the lights come on, the music turns off, and they are faced with sweaty girls and their surprisingly poor complexions with whom they have been flirting all night and now they have to decide whose number to ask for.

All in all, I'd say Rock of Love and the Boston bar scene are spitting images of each other. In either 4 years or 20 minutes from now, the whole concept of "I like you, you like me, let's get coffee" is going to become obsolete. Instead, we will be forced to mingle amongst our peers while being judged from afar on the length of our hair, the amount of sparkle in our eyes, and whether or not we can sing the Star Spangled Banner without using a cheat sheet. Only the lucky few will be plucked from the throngs to live in the promised land with Bret Michaels, where we will continue to rock his world.

Hello, Awesome

This is my dream staircase. One day, when I own a home, it will contain one of these bookstaircases. And you will be jealous.

Honk-U

Once upon a time, I thought Stacey had the worst road rage. This was before I was a regular driver in the greater Boston area. Now, I too, am faced with battling the long and short term effects of road rage every time I get in my car.

Here's why:

• Greater Boston area drivers think the blinker is optional. It is not. Get with the program people! If you are going to turn, switch lanes, or cut someone off, please do the courteous thing and signal. The lack of using the turn signal is the number one reason why the nickname 'Masshole' exists.
  

• Drivers 'round here have no idea which lane to be in. Now, part of this is the fault of the incredibly stupid roads and the lack of signage. However, sometimes it is quite clear what lane you should be in and yet the drivers still don't get it. Example: if there are two left turning lanes, and you look ahead and see the road you are turning left onto immediately forks, choose the left turning lane that is on the side of the road you will need to be when it splits up ahead. Don't get in the wrong one and assume the person next to you is going to let you in when you come to the realization you are an idiot.

• My other favorite are the people who straddle two lanes. Get a clue, Mass driver. There are two or three lanes for reasons. They all serve a purpose. Some are turning lanes, some are passing lanes, some are for going straight. You can't have be in all of them because that annoys me.

• Honking (this is a two-parter):

• In Driver's Ed close to 10 years ago, I learned that honking was a tool you could use to alert someone of something that can be prevented. For instance, if someone is pulling out and you can stop them from hitting you by honking, knock yourself out. It is not meant to say "Hey, I hate you!" or "I am in a hurry, here!" (Unless of course, you have a car sitting idly in the middle of the road. In this case, honk away my friends, honk your little heart out.)

• It is not okay to honk at someone who is trying to turn left into traffic and can't because cars are coming or if the light just turned green and they aren't going fast enough for you. That's just rude. We all know everyone is in a hurry; honking doesn't help. In those cases, I really wish I had a rear honk. A noise that came out of the back of the car to respond to unacceptable honkers behind you. Then, maybe impatient drivers would hold their honks. Or, more realistically, the world will become a louder place.

To combat the crippling effects of road rage, I have heard that poetry helps:

Hey! You cut me off!
Do you know how to use your
turn signal, dummy?

You might have plates from
another state but that does
not mean you hog lanes

Honk at me from the
behind and I will get you
back when it is time

Katherine Elisabeth

I an officially an aunt to the world's cutest baby. She has Stacey's long toes and we can only wait to see if she will have long monkey arms, too. Katie, don't worry if you do. It is not a bad thing. Many, many times a day I wish I had monkey arms. They would save me the trouble of climbing on chairs and counter tops to get things. We are so happy to have Katie in our family now! (I, for one, can't wait to spoil her with girly things. No more gender neutral clothing and accessories!)

Here she is:

I'm funnier than you

Have you ever been talking to someone and you see his/her eyes glaze over and you know that person is not listening to you anymore but simply nodding and smiling along with your story, laughing at the right moments and trying so hard to look engaged? Recently, I've been doing that a lot to others. I just can't seem to listen to anyone's stories besides my own. Obviously, I feel really guilty about this because I am known for my ridiculously long stories that no one can follow and have no point. So I should probably try to listen when other people are basically doing what I do to them. But no, instead I wait until that perfect moment to share my funnier, smarter, better story.

It is like I am constantly trying to one-up everyone all of the time.

Oh, you slipped on the ice and got laughed at by a woman crossing the street?

Me, I slipped on the ice, fell into a puddle, and while still flat on my back in the middle of the road I got beeped at by a car that was trying to pass.

See how my story was better?

Your roommates are weird? Mine are weirder. And I will tell you why with the help of a power point presentation and pictures posted on Facebook.

I don't know what has gotten into me. I have turned into a completely ego-centric person. Probably when my sister has her baby, I will write a blog about my adventure getting home or how I won the baby pool... twice. (February 2nd suckers!)

Hopefully I will get over this phase soon. I don't really like being so self absorbed, but I can't seem to control it. I caught myself describing my favorite commercial in detail to a couple of colleagues the other day. (It is a really funny commercial. It is for the new AT&T and it has this tall blond man named Sven in it, and he wakes up the family, sets up their schedule, keeps everyone informed of their missed calls and emails, and at the end hands out giant sweaters like the one he is wearing and tells them to 'bundle up.' Every time i see it, I backwards bloop bloop on TiVo just so I can get a second showing. I am addicted to Sven.) But the point is--- it is a TV advertisement, not breaking news about Jamie Lynn's pregnancy or the score of whatever important football game was on on Sunday. There is no need for me to share it with co-workers over the water cooler. It's like I need a slap on the face that says "Get a life, Jenn." I bet Sven would do that for me. Seriously. See how helpful he would be in my life? He could say things like "You have been speaking for 42 minutes" or "Your friend wants to talk now" to keep me on track. (I told you I was obsessed).

Since there is no chance that Sven will show up on my doorstep to keep me in line, I will have to do it myself. This has got to stop. I am not going to add it to my list, but I will try very very hard anyway.

Vegetarian Attempt

While I am writing this, I am eating a cobb salad. With Chicken. So I think you know where this blog is going.

I did indeed make my attempt at being a Vegetarian. I didn't eat meat all week, even when I went to the Cheesecake Factory and all of the things I love were either burgers, chicken, or meatloaf. I got Evelyn's favorite pasta, and it was actually quite yummy and healthy, although the eggplant chunks were a little large.

But then, I started thinking to myself, why am I doing this? The reason why I wanted to stop eating meat was because every time I am in CT with the fam, we eat meat every night and by the end of my stay, I feel bad for the cows that we have eaten. I am not sure why I feel bad for the cow, but once you feel bad for the cow, you can't eat the cow and really enjoy it. Then, I thought, if I feel bad for the cow, why don't I feel bad for the chicken or the pig? Since I am not discriminatory of animals, I felt like I should feel guilty about eating all living things. So that's when I thought I should be a vegetarian.

Well, you know what? Sometimes, I feel like eating meat. And I am going to eat it. Instead of being a vegetarian, I am going to eat less meat, and only when it is really delicious. This way, I don't waste meat eating on non-delicious meat. I might go straight-up vegetarian later this year, but for now, that is my meat eating policy.

Meanwhile, today I was making my healthy menu for the week, and here is what it is:

Breakfast: every other day, grapenuts hot. On the other days, a Turkish breakfast of: yogurt with honey, pomegranate (and grapenuts, they aren't Turkish, but I love them), Orange wedges and olives on the side OR ricotta with tomatoes.

Lunch: Roasted veggie pitas with hummus or salad. Sides of string cheese or laughing cow, sugar free/fat free pudding or jello, Fruit.

Dinners: Chickpea stew, Ribollita, or Salad (depending on the lunch). (I usually only make a big batch of something, and then repeat during the week). Pasta will probably happen one night. Maybe pizza.

So, yeah, that's a vegetarian menu. I guess I don't know what I am planning to be anymore. I am going to make like a Calvin Klein ad and just be.