Wednesday, February 28, 2007

Tricked Out Blog

New to Rise to Vote SIR!

Scroll down to see video from the Smith Botanic Garden's very own Sensitive Plant!!


"My vag is healthy. Just thought you'd like to know since you use it most"

texted to Jam this morning, after my yearly physical where I get, you know, EVERYTHING checked....

Tuesday, February 27, 2007


Ok, I just stumbled upon an extremely misogynistic and homophobic website. I wish I had never seen it, but I did (I found it, strangely, in my search for "feral children" ie, children raised by wolves, etc.) and now I just need to clear the air for a second or two.

First and foremost, this is the definition of feminism:
fem·i·nism [fem-uh-niz-uhm] Pronunciation Key –noun
1.the doctrine advocating social, political, and all other rights of women equal to those of men.
2.(sometimes initial capital letter) an organized movement for the attainment of such rights for women.
3.feminine character.

That's all it is. women=men. THAT'S IT. Yes, there are radical edges to feminism, like there are radical edges to everything, but I feel like, in people's minds, feminism is associated directly with the really radical and fundamentalist feminist movements, and the true meaning of the word has been abandoned, and the fact that there actually was a time when women had to ban together to fight for basic rights, and the fact that women of the world are STILL fighting for basic rights, has been completely forgotten.

Example: I was on the Tufts bus and a girl said "I'm taking Intro to Feminist Theory." The girl to whom she was speaking turned up her nose, and the speaker quickly said "Oh but I'm not a feminist." I wanted to shake her by the shoulders and say "Honey, you are a woman at a college. Already you're a feminist. Do you want the same rights as a man? YOU'RE A FEMINIST" You don't have to subscribe to the radical, the fundamental, the psychotic - all I'm asking you is to grow a set (of boobs, of course, unless you are a man, because this applies ot you to) and say "I'm a feminist" because all a feminist is in its most basic sense is a person who believes in equal rights. That's ALL. Calm down for chrissake!

Example: A person responded to aforementioned website with a great post on their personal blog, basically saying how lame the site was. Someone replied to the blog saying "I know many American women who don't believe in feminism. They believe in staying home with the family. But most were fundamental Christians." WOW. This smacks of so much crap, I can't even get into it, BUT staying home doest not equal "antifeminism." My mother is a shining example of this. She went to an all-women's college in the midst of the feminist movement and I'm sure would 100% of the time call herself a feminist. But, oh no, OH MY GOD! She stayed home with the kids! God forbid! Oh wait, it's because she wanted to? Oh well, then she's not a feminist. WRONG! Maybe to some women, she wasn't being a feminist when she made those choices. To me, she absolutely was. Why? Because she did what she wanted, which was stay home and raise us, and also know everything there was to know about the house, therefore making my father look a bit dense when repairmen came to fix things, like the furnace (these are her proudest moments, when repairmen look at my dad and say "now Mr. C, where's the turnoff for the natural gas." My father will look dumbfounded and say "uh, you better ask my wife, she knows all this stuff." Then the tables turn suddenly and the men are all like "Mrs C. this, Mrs. C that" while my mother wears a look of triumph. Go mom!)

I believe in staying home with you're kids if you're lucky enough to do so! Would staying home with my kiddies and crafting and enriching their lives whilst doing a bit of biology on the side make me the happiest woman alive? Definitely. Would I be any less of a woman, or any less of a feminist for doing so? No. I don't think so. I think I'm also "feminist" enough to realize that if by some odd and strange and irrational miracle of God I make more cashmoney than Jam, enough to single-handedly support the family, the child-rearing may fall to him. Does that make him less of a man and me less of a woman? Nope. Does that make us both feminists? Yes. Here's why (stop cringing Jam, it will be ok, LOL): we believe the sexes should be treated equally. That's all.

Of course, Jamaal does have that tendency to pay for things or buy me things because, as he said, "I'M YOUR MAN!!!!" Different situation entirely. That's not anti-feminism, friends, that's just pure chivalry -And I don't think many feminists would have a problem with that ;)

the itch

Oh my goodness. I am sitting here in the midst of stress, work and a to-do list a mile long. I have deadlines to meet for work, deadlines for class, CRAP TO DO, PEOPLE, and what am I sitting here doing every time my computer takes longer than 3 seconds to load a web page? Trolling the internet for craft inspiration. Seriously!

So I have an exam tomorrow in Conservation Biology. I have a Dr's appointment tomorrow as well. I have about 100 people on followup in my database that need my attention. I have medical records wallowing at Health Information Services, just waiting to be picked up. I have a pillow to finish, a birthday gift to work on for late March, pictures that need to be uploaded and organized and label. I have a tire to buy (7th flat in 4 years. Do I hold the record, or am I tied with a Nascar driver yet?). There are bills to pay, taxes to do and a TRIP TO COSTA RICA to plan. I have to pack and buy bus tickets to NYC. Make out birthday cards, buy wrapping implements. I have quilting class tonight. You would think a girl would take a hint and focus on work and school and life. But no, not me. I am plotting my next craft project. INSANE. Who does that?

What's worse is that I'm not organized about it. All at once I thought of things I'd like to do: make another quilt, make another scarf, make this hat. I start figuring out when I can sneak to Windsor Button and buy some Lamb's Pride wool, or should I treat myself to Last Minute Knitted gifts and some Koigu yarn, because the ripple scarf is hawwwttttttt. There must be a diagnosis for this neurosis. Maybe "procraftination" AHAHHAHAHH Jesus.

Anyways, a favorite blog ended up offering the opportunity I was looking for - Larissa of Stitch Marker is selling this pattern to benefit a family touched by tragedy. The fact that the money is going to a good cause and not just to sate my craft addiction made the expenditure all the more worthy. The pattern is one that will be featured in a book the blog's author is putting together. I have no idea how far along she is in the book process, but I'm already lusting after it, and all the beautiful patterns that I'll find between the pages. Sigh.

Whew. At least blogging has calmed me a bit. I think I'm a bit neurotic when it comes to crafting because I want to try and do everything at once (let us not speak of the scarf-in-progress that is fast approaching its 4th birthday of being exactly that: a scarf-in-progress). I have a backup of sexy yarns, fabric scraps and photos for scrapbooking. I think I need to calmly approach these things one at a time. But you know I won't!

This weekend's bus crafts shall be: meathead hat, fingerless gloves promised to Amy, secret gift for birthday. And that's just THAT!

Wednesday, February 21, 2007

Academic failure yet again

I will keep this post short.
I did a crapass job on my Animal Behavior exam. WTF. It was so easy. As much as I'd like to say the professor was a hardass when grading (ok why did I only get 1 point for my answer "ethology" yes, technically he wanted "classical ethology" but seriously, 1 point out of 4 for half the answer?!!) it was my fault. ALL. MY. FAULT. I stressed about crap going on in my non-academic life and did lousy, though I will say, I didn't fail. Erg. Now to get an "A" I must get 2 100's. Although let's just say to get a "B" in the class I only have to get an 82 or above on the next 2 exams, so it's not like I bombed the first one. Just did a shitty job. Grrr. Clearly I need to resort my priorities. Which is why I'm going to read at least 2 Con Bio chapters and 1 Animal Behavior chapter BEFORE I head out to the supermarket to buy the butter I need for the shortbread I'm making for book club.

Yes, priorities must be reordered. Bah.

Tuesday, February 20, 2007

Four days of "whaaaa??"

On Friday, I had my first Animal Behavior exam. I have to admit that I could've pushed myself to study harder, but I got complacent and a little bit cocky and thought I wouldn't need it, plus I was cleaning like a fiend for the impending arrival of Jammy Jam. So on Thursday night I gave my book the finger and snuggled under the covers around 1am.

I woke up on Friday at 6:30, pretty much the second I have to be out of the house. I rushed a shower, threw on clothes and ran out the door. I sped to the T and studied all the way to Davis. Somehow I had the tremendous luck of arriving in Davis Square at 7:55, which is nothing short of amazing considering how slow the T normally is. I waited for the bus for a bit, then had to brave the frozen sidewalks.

I took the test in sharpie (seriously idiotic) and then read on the exam directions that any text outside the answer boxes would not be graded. Great, I thought, about half my exam is outside the box, but it was too late. This made me a bit frustrated, that and the fact that my professor refused to let anyone leave the room until all exams had been handed in in order to limit "disturbance.'' Ugh. I left sufficiently irritated. I started to walk to the bus stop and of course, the Tufts shuttle isn't there. So I walk to the MBTA bus stop. I wait til 9:40 and no bus. Having waited nearly 40 minutes the day before for a bus, I decided to just walk to Davis. I made it maybe 1/4 of the way there when I realized I only had one glove. Dammit, I thought. I weighed getting to work on time against the importance of the glove for a few seconds and decided I would walk as far at the bus stop and if I didn't find it, I'd go to work and abandon the missing glove forever.

Just as I spun around and started back up the sidewalk, I see out of the corner of my eye a strange motion. Then, as if in slow motion, I see a taxi turn awkwardly, cross the double yellow line and whale a small black pick-up truck. There was no sound - no brakes screeching, no skidding, just the horrible sound of two large glass and metal objects hitting each other. I stood frozen to the sidewalk for a few seconds, my mouth hanging open, ipod blasting in my ears. Holy crap! Two students were right next to the scene when it happened, and I expected them to help. No. They shrugged and walked away. This was so horrifying to me! What if people were hurt!! No one passing by in cars pulled over either. This made me so angry. Not that I have any first aid experience beyond what I learned in lifeguard training, I do know what it's like to be in a car accident and be scared, so I figured at the very least I could call 911 and reassure the people that help was on the way. As I reached the scene, I noticed a spiderweb crack in the windshield in front of the driver. Sh*t, I thought, the driver hit his head. The driver leaped out of the seat and practically ran into traffic saying "he hit us!!" I approached him. "Sir?" I said "Did you hit your head just now?" "No!" he cried, feeling his head, "Am I bleeding, am I hurt??" "No," I said, trying to be as calm as possible, "but I am concerned about the crack in your windshield. Usually a crack like that means you hit your head on it." "Don't worry about me just help my wife!" Um, where would she be? I wondered. I approached the truck. Slumped over in the passenger's seat, eyes closed, was this man's wife. I swear to you, I sent three wishes to the heavens above when I saw her: please be conscious, breathing and NOT bleeding. "Ma'am, can you hear me?" I asked. "Yes" she answered fairly calmly. Score. Breathing and conscious, check. "What hurts?" "My ribs hurt so bad." "Are you bleeding?" "No." Score again. My mind races. Ribs - could be broken, could puncture a lung. Could also be her side hurting from a ruptured spleen. And a whole bunch of other crap that I have no idea about. Survey says: don't move, no matter what. "Ok, I'm gonna ask you to do me a huge favor," I say, "you absolutely can't move, unless you think that you can breathe better in a different position. You just need to hang on for a few minutes." "Ok" she says. Eeek. A woman driving by casually asks if she should call 911. OH MY GOD WHAT DO YOU THINK??? "Yes, please" I say. "Do you need an ambulance." Now I'm getting annoyed. "YES" I yell at her "A woman is HURT." Meanwhile her husband is saying to me "why'd he hit us, he just came out of nowhere. why did this happen, is she ok? why?" I am uselessly patting his wife's arm saying 'you're doing great, hang in, just a few more minutes' while simultaneously telling this man, who I'm sure has hit his head and is hurt a lot more than he realizes that I saw everything, that I'm staying with him until the police arrive and that his wife is doing great. I turned off his truck because it was running ragged and I'm sure the vibration wasn't too great for his wife. She eased her seat belt off too. "See?" I said to the husband "your wife had her seat belt on. That is the most important thing here, that is the best case scenario." I realized that I was slightly talking out of my ass, but hey, if he felt better, that's most important. Finally the Tufts Campus Police arrive. Hooray! I thought, someone with training! HA yeah right. The officer sticks his head in the car "Ma'am, where's it hurt?" "My ribs!" she says. "Yeah ok, um hang in there." He looks at me "stay with her, ok?" Um HI, you're a police officer (Tufts has bona fide police officers, not fake cops) don't leave me alone with injured woman. It turns out he had to deal with the taxi driver, who was of course, denying everything. Finally EMS arrived and started working on the crash lady, whose name was, of all things, Elvira. I gave the Tufts police my business card and patted husband on the back and told him his wife would be ok. "God bless you, thank you so much, oh God bless you, I love you" he said. Awwrr, poor guy. I walked on my way, back down the icy sidewalk to Davis.

Once at work I got back into platelet donation. It kicks the crap out of me when I do it, but I have a high platelet count, and so many of the patients I deal with need platelets. It's my way of helping them out, since I'm not a doctor or nurse directly involved in their care. I got to watch the Discovery Channel for almost 2 hours so it was worth it. Then because I was full of self-pity for the insane day I had had, I walked up to "Nail Spa by Time" (don't ask cause I don't get it either) where I had a much-needed pedicure. The girl who did my feet went all out because I waited for nearly 45 minutes and she felt bad. I tipped her well because I realized that I had been a jerk while waiting and had given people evil looks. Before I left she oiled my feet and wrapped them in plastic bags, then helped me put on my socks and sneakers. Awesome.

I called up Rachela and asked her if she wanted to meet for drinks cause Jam's bus was delayed. We agreed to meet in Copley, and after wandering for a few minutes, we decided to head to Stuart Street because there are several drinking options there. We settled on a Chinese food restaurant Jam and I had drinks in once before. It's a cozy little spot with a nice bar upstairs. A very swanky-looking crowd was finishing up dinner when we arrived, and I think my tipsy and loud voice kind of drove them out because I was getting the evil eye from one of the guys. OH WELL. After a round Rach and I were sufficiently warmed up, and then of course I pressured her into another round. By then, we were feeling really happy. We bundled up and took off, much to the sadness of the bartender, whom I think we were entertaining, about 5 minutes after Jam texted that he was in Boston - eek! We were hunched over like old ladies walking down Tremont to Park, laughing like hyenas the entire time. As we went up the escalator at South Station, our general noise and ridiculousness caught Jam's attention and he watched us, horrified, as we giggled up the escalator. We talked him into venturing out into the city for some food and ended up back at Stuart and Tremont for a quick bite at Bennigan's. I hadn't been there since about the 8th grade - good lord was it delicious. It's not anything THAT special, but it was perfect for us. After seeing Rachel off, Jam and I returned home and passed out. Lovely.

The rest of the weekend flew by. There was some excellent parallel parking practice. We visited Amy, who's house sitting a few towns away. Jam drove and did an excellent job of it. We made homemade pizzas, watched National Geographic's "In the Womb: Multiples" and "Ugly Betty" on TiVo, then headed out to catch "Norbit" which I found hilariously funny. "How YOU doin?" Heh. A sad attempt was made to watch "Diary of a Mad Black Woman" but I fell fast asleep. Sunday was quiet - we went to see "Babel" which I thought was freakin' brilliant, and Jamaal drove a lot once again. I told my coworkers that I made him drive me to Whole Foods, and Laura said that that was about the cruelest thing I could've done because the parking lot is INSANE. Tee hee, well he needs experience in all of life's situations, and he did well there :) My mother made a turkey dinner which was amazing, and I made dessert, and I will absolutely pat myself on the back for it, the apple crisp was delicious.

On Monday I had to bring Jam to the bus (sadness!!) but we managed to get him there early for a change, so I was glad that he wouldn't be rolling in at midnight or some other ungodly hour. I then went home and attempted to start sewing about 1, 582 times but was interrupted. At 4pm I started piecing a quilt for my friend's birthday (it's in 2 weeks. aaand I don't think she reads this blog. Ek, I hope not at least!!!) I finished all the blocks at 10 and was so pleased. I then laid them out and thought they were rather fugly. I'm stuck though. I'm not going to remake the quilt, I don't have time, as I have a Conservation Bio exam I have to dedicate the next 8 days to study-wise. See it's super fugly in pictures (to come, I promise) but maybe not so bad in person? I can only hope. ek.

Today I'm so tired and cranky. I admit it. Quilting last night f*cked up my wrist something awful, and now I have quilting class tonight. Errrr. Guess I'll just have to deal with it. I keep cracking it, which is probably bad, but it feels totally frozen. Damn sewing addiction!

Tuesday, February 13, 2007

Bus-ing it

After a few expensive trips to New York City I quickly learned that, despite the cramped seats and jungle-like heat, Peter Pan Bus was the way to travel.

My father calls it traveling with "the great unwashed;" while he absolutely has a valid point, so valid that I have in fact, sat next to people who I believed had not washed in a while, I don't have the flair for traveling the expensive route for cheap like he does. He is the man who gets upgrades to first class for free, or has (through proper and legal and ethical routes) convinced the police helicopter to assist him in official state business avoiding hours long ferry rides. I have no such flair, but upon his urging, I tried alternate ways of traveling. First I tried the Acela. Sure, it was fairly luxurious and clean and quiet, but it was also $86 each way, and that was at an off peak and therefore inconvenient time, before the gas crisis and with my AAA discount. It cut nearly an hour off the trip to NYC, but the money was just excessive, especially given the fact that Jam and I were living high (not on drugs, people) in those first few months of courtship. Next I turned to the regular old Regional Service, still expensive, but around $100 round trip and slightly more manageable-feeling. The train was cramped and filled with people pretending to have money when really they didn't necessarily have money, they just didn't want to be seen on the bus. Seriously, the airfare on JetBlue is less than the peak ticket price of the Regional Service. I had bitchy women on laptops and cell phones city next to me. In the Quiet Car, which I tried once in an attempt to escape the dozens of collegiate beauty queens on their cell phones on their way to NYU and Columbia to visit their boyfriends, the businessmen reading their Times and Globes would glare at you over their newspapers every time you shifted, opened a food wrapper, or zipped your purse. I found the Regional Service equally as irritating as the few times I had braved the bus.

What finally turned me off hideous Amtrak were the DELAYS. Good sweet Jesus, the delays were unreal. Jam and I wasted many an hour or two or three sitting on the floor of Grand Central hoping that maybe, just maybe, the train would roll in a little early from DC, but no, it never happened. I actually can't remember ever leaving NYC for Boston on time. Even when we did, there always seemed to be an obstacle. One time as we were pulling into the 128 Station, where my sister was waiting, a huge lightning storm moved over the area and struck the station and tracks. Of course, the train lost power and was stranded on the tracks about 20 feet from the platform for nearly an hour. The final straw may have occurred last summer, when I stupidly thought it would be fun to spend some extra time with Jam and catch the 3:15AM Regional Service back home - I'd roll into Boston at 7:30am and still be on time for work. Getting out of bed was hideous, but not nearly as hideous as the garrulous man in front of me who had a comment for every single thing he saw outside the window. I really wanted to kill him when he said to his sons "BOYS. BOYS. LOOKIT. LOOKIT. Connecticut's right outside our window. Doesn't it look like a big green jungle??!!" "SHUTTUP DAD" they replied. After that he did shut up, but then he proceeded to snore. Hours later, I awoke to the melodious sound of a screaming conductor "GET UP GET UP GET UP!!!" She screamed, walking down the aisles and slamming the backs of the seats with her arms. "We're pulling into Providence. We're a commuter train now, all the seats will be FULL so GET UP!" Wow.

There were certain benefits to switching to the bus. For the most part, Peter Pan adheres to a reliable schedule, and if there is a back up or delays, another bus is sent to deal with the backlog of passengers. I've never been on a bus that's been seriously delayed due to weather. Granted I haven't exactly been on the bus in the midst of a blizzard, but I've travelled to NYC during a serious morning snowstorm in Boston, rain, thunder, lightning, hail and everything in between. Also, the bus generally takes just as long as the Regional Service, and sometimes it's even faster! I have sat on a bus for nearly 6 hours before, which is misery, but when you consider the hours I spent on the floor at Grand Central it's all equal.

What the bus does offer is confined space with 54 other passengers and an opportunity to overhear conversations. Most of them are incredibly dull and even stupid, but a few are real gems. Once I had an old lady tell me her entire life's history, and it was rather colorful. Then there was an entire family - I still don't know what nationality they were. Well, ok, they were Americans, but not all born here. There were 3 generations of them on their way to Georgia to visit family, a mother, her married daughter and her husband and their baby, and two grown sons. The baby fussed the entire way down and the grandmother narrated the crying "ooww mommy!!!" she'd cry "ohhh mommmmy give me some meeeeelk! Ohhhh I am soo hungry! Ohhh but you don't want me to get tooo fat, no???!! Ohhh but feeed me!" As if this wasn't enough her oldest son kept interjecting "lookit the pra-jects. Yeah. That's what NYC is all about, tha prah-jects. Yeah, look at them project boys on the cornah" I cringed. True we were in Harlem, true we were near projects, but seriously, is that necessary?? We go by a movie set. "oooohh maybe they are making a movie with someone famous!" says Granny. "Yeah, a prah-ject movie" says son. I turn to the boy next to me who had been fastidiously studying his LSAT book. He looks at me and shakes his head. "If I die and wake up in hell, I'll know I'll be there because I'll be on this bus. This is my hell" I say to him, but we both laughed.

One of the most special bus occurrences happened over New Year's Weekend. I left work early so I could spend the afternoon in Manhattan with Jamaal. In line I noticed a mother daughter pink duo. Both were dressed in head to toe pink, the one difference being that the mother actually had pink shoes, while the daughter was rocking some white Uggs. Daughter had bleached platinum hair with visible roots, a ton of makeup, including dark lip liner, a Tiffany's heart silver chain, a pink velvet bebe lounging suit, skin tight, and the aforementioned white Uggs. She looked like a beast. I mean, she was a pretty girl, but you would've had to strip about 8 layers of makeup off of her to see that. Her cell phone was literally glued to her ear, and remained there for almost the entire 4 hour trip. Just as we are approaching the Bronx and I am starting to feel the glimmer of hope that it's only a matter a hour or so before I get off the bus, the driver veers to the right to take the GW Bridge. This is a common Manhattan-evading tactic practiced by Peter Pan drivers and it annoys me no end. The GW is crossed, Manhattan is paralleled as we drive south down New Jersey, and then we cut back through the Lincoln Tunnel. I swear this saves absolutely no time. The GW and the tunnel are always crowded. The only nice thing is the pleasing view that you see when you are going into the Lincoln Tunnel - you look right across the river into Manhattan, and I think it's my favorite view of New York, much like my favorite view of Boston is actually from the harbor - everything is so sparkling and clean from there. Anyways, we start to cross the GW and I hear bebe lounge suit go "Oh my God. oh my God. Why are we going this way?? Um Hi? Hello? Can anyone help me?" Everyone just does what they've been doing for the whole trip - we ignore her. She dials her phone "Mom? MOOOMM?? It's me, yeah hi, why did I just go by a sign that says "Welcome to New Jersey?? No I don't know! No I asked but no one answered." She starts again "Excuuuuuse me? Driver? People? Hi Why are we in New Jersey?" I get irritated and whip around and say "this is the way we go. We cross the GW Bridge to avoid the Bronx and Manhattan. Then we parallel Manhattan as we cut through Jersey, then shoot back through the Lincoln Tunnel and we're literally right at Port Authority." I could tell I was moving to fast for her. "Um Ok. But do we stop and drop off people in New Jersey." "No" I say to her, staring at her vacant eyes. She gets back on the phone "So we're totally lost" she says. Ugh. When we finally get to the Lincoln Tunnel entrance, there's a ton of traffic, of course. We roll along the ramp and get high enough to see Manhattan. As I am enjoying the view, blondie dials her phone. "Brian" she shrieks "Oh My GOD I am so lost on the bus!! Yeah. I can see New York, yeah, but it's so far away. I dunno, like wicked wicked far. BRIAN! I am looking at New York from ACROSS THE OCEAN!!!!" Finally an older man turns around "Honey, that's the Hudson, we're about a mile as the crow flies from Manhattan and you'll be at Port Authority in about 8 minutes." "Oh my God," she says "I must be like, mildly retarded or something." Heh, you're telling me.

Last weekend I was pleased to board the bus in Boston and find it fairly empty. I even had a seat to myself. The bus driver was jolly and joked with the passengers. When the woman in front of me copped an attitude about us being 15 minutes late leaving the terminal he said "see if you got your little attitude going on when I get you to the city on time." She sniffed indignantly but didn't reply. Heh. We even took a pee break at McDonald's! After 50 pit stops at shady Roy Roger's I wanted to jump on the bus driver for taking us to McDonald's. He even talked to the kid who gave the McDonald's manager attitude. "You gotta chill, man" he said when we got back on the bus. I settled down happily with my Animal Behavior book and snack wrap and we made decent progress towards the city, free of traffic. We sped down 2nd Ave, a new view for me, and cut through the park. As we were making our way through the park the bus driver said "um I think something is wrong with the bus. I might have to stop." No biggie I thought, we're about 14 blocks from Port. "Get your coats on, just in case" he says. We make nearly to the end of the park when I notice that there is smoke coming from either side of the bus. Then there is that lovely burning smell, which I recognized from all the times the MBTA trains have caught on fire. The bus lurches onto 66th and the driver runs out with a fire extinguisher. Attitude in front of me catches my eye and shakes her head. "Wow" I said, "Not what I really wanted to see." "Get off the bus!" the bus driver shouts at us. "Get your stuff and get off this bus and stand on the sidewalk towards the front of the bus. Get away from the vehicle!!!!!" People are not frantic, which is good, but they're not exactly moving either. Then a woman in the very back pipes up "People, the bus is on fire and I'm in the back and there's a gas tank back here and if the fire is big enough and hot enough it could blow up and I'll be the first to die." Because I am evil I thought 'I'd prefer you being the first to go' then felt like a bad person. I wasn't too worried because 1. the driver thought he could handle the fire with an extinguisher and 2. if full out fire was imminent, we would've been bailing out the windows and 3. the gas tanks and engine aren't THAT close to each other. She kept complaining though and this hurried people along.

As soon as we were assembled on the sidewalk people started in on the bus driver: "where are we? how long will it be til we get to Port Authority? Can you give me my bag? What's happening?" The poor guy is on the phone with Port trying to figure out whether or not it's safe to get back on the bus or should people wait for a new bus or what. The a##hole kid who made such a big scene in McDonald's talks to two skinny blondes who were on the bus together: "the whole trip has been f*cking ridiculous, absof*ckinglutely ridiculous." I wanted to say "what has been ridiculous about it, exactly? The fact that someone sat next to you and that pissed you off? The fact that McDonald's didn't give you the right order because you ordered while talking on your cell phone? The fact that the bus driver told you to chill because you were an embarrassment to him and every other passenger on the bus when you made a scene at the rest stop? The fact that he told you you made too much noise on your phone, or the fact the bus caught on fire and the driver is trying to handle a situation, that's totally out of his control, in a manner that would most convenience you?" Of course I didn't, cause he was obviously a confrontational person who would just start freaking out at you if you dared say anything. So I just stood on the sidewalk listening to everyone bitch. Finally, the skinny blondes became so obnoxious about demanding their luggage that the bus driver whipped open the cargo holds and said "TAKE YOUR BAGGAGE AND LEAVE I DON'T EVEN CARE!!!!!!!" Heh. So everyone made like a vulture at a lion kill and swooped in to grab their luggage. The blondes and the ahole guy got their suitcases. I expected them to march towards the nearest subway station or hail a taxi. Instead, they stood helplessly on the street corner and said "so, um, like, where are we?" HA!
I called Jamaal and he said "the nearest subway stop is 66th and Broadway. Take the 1 to 34th." "Awesome." I think the three morons were probably still traipsing through the city when I arrived in the lobby of Jam's office not 15 minutes later. Sigh. Some people. They do make for a good story though, don't they??!

Monday, February 12, 2007

My Dearly Beloved

Boyfriend (excalibur) posted some questions he read in an article on his blog. While I think these are incredibly important questions to seriously consider before marriage, I can't help but to give my snarky first impulse response to them. Plus it will probably make him laugh instead of worry because we've actually talked about a lot of these more or less. Here we go:

Questions Couples Should Ask (Or Wish They Had) Before Marrying

Relationship experts report that too many couples fail to ask each other critical questions before marrying. Here are a few key ones that couples should consider asking:

1) Have we discussed whether or not to have children, and if the answer is yes, who is going to be the primary care giver?

As the woman, I plan to stay at home with the children and dedicate myself to the rigors of household duty with a strict daily schedule of laundry, dishes, ironing, sewing the children's wardrobes and disinfection of various "germ-ridden" areas of the house with clorox wipes. Our house will always be clean, and smell as if no children live there and no food is cooked there. Also, note I did not answer "whether or not to have children." I am a woman, it is my job, how can you even ask that?

2) Do we have a clear idea of each other’s financial obligations and goals, and do our ideas about spending and saving mesh?

When we marry, Jam will do the bills because a girl just doesn't have the head for finances. I expect he will give me a weekly allowance though.

3) Have we discussed our expectations for how the household will be maintained, and are we in agreement on who will manage the chores?

I will do the cooking and cleaning and yardwork, unless it is too physical, then we'll have to hire a nice young man from the neighborhood to help out. Jam will not lift a finger, not even to put on his slippers, which will be warmed by the fire every night for the exact 10 minutes before he gets home, even in July. He will call me from work if he requires any special dietary considerations for that night's dinner as well as whether or not he would like me to have the bathtub ready for a soak so he can wash away all that stress!

4) Have we fully disclosed our health histories, both physical and mental?

I am a sexy beast.

5) Is my partner affectionate to the degree that I expect?

Of course he is!

6) Can we comfortably and openly discuss our sexual needs, preferences and fears?

What ever you need dear, your wish is my command. I am afraid of grasshoppers though. There, I've said it.

7) Will there be a television in the bedroom?

How else will Jam be able to comfortably watch porn and the NFL?

8) Do we truly listen to each other and fairly consider one another’s ideas and complaints?

Of course. What'd you say?

9) Have we reached a clear understanding of each other’s spiritual beliefs and needs, and have we discussed when and how our children will be exposed to religious/moral education?

I am protestant. Our children will be raised as puritans, with church 6 hours a day on Sunday and they won't know about s-e-x until they go to some heathen college and drink beer and learn the secrets of boys/girls/both.

10) Do we like and respect each other’s friends?

Of course. Except for that funny looking one and that weird one and the one with the thing on the thing, coming off the thing.....and that other one, the one who got the sex change. Weird.

11) Do we value and respect each other’s parents, and is either of us concerned about whether the parents will interfere with the relationship?

Brenda gave me foot care products this weekend. But see, I don't see that as necessarily interfering. It's more like trying to help the helpless. Jam was probably like 'Mommy, Allison has nasty feet." And she bought me the foot care set as a way of saying "clean up your stank feet or you'll be looking for a new boyfriend." That's sweet. As for my parents - can parents who don't know the intimate details of your relationship interfere with it? N-O nooooo

12) What does my family do that annoys you?

It's the license plate-collecting, anal retentive car-washing, New England Patriots Boston Red Sox obsessing, organic food-eating thing, isn't it? Sniffle

13) Are there some things that you and I are NOT prepared to give up in the marriage?

The nasty dirty.........oh. No. I mean. Um. I still want to drink a coke zero a night, ok?

14) If one of us were to be offered a career opportunity in a location far from the other’s family, are we prepared to move?

Why would we do that, we live in my parent's basement for FREEEEEEEE

15) Does each of us feel fully confident in the other’s commitment to the marriage and believe that the bond can survive whatever challenges we may face?

If we can survive flaming buses, Peter Pan passengers from hell, lost bus drivers, Long Island highways, five hour rides to Maine, entertaining ourselves in rainy ass Vermont, and that whole crapload of miles between us, surely we could survive MARRIAGE!!

Seriously though, once again, these are really important questions that Jam and I should probably go over one day. Cause there are definitely things I assumed - I always imagined that I'd stay home with the kids if possible. I don't know why I just did - and I went to a women's college that beat the whole breaking the glass ceiling thing into you! But maybe it's Jam's lifelong dream to be a stay at home dad! I can't mess with that! There are also things I never even thought about: tv in the bedroom? I just never thought about it. True, bedrooms without tvs can be very relaxing and zen, that's true enough, plus it's very bad feng shui to have a tv in the bedroom, it is a black hole just waiting to suck up good energy. But honestly, I never really put too much thought into it? why? because let's put it this way: Jam and I both have tv's in our rooms. And when we're with each other, unless we're deliberately watching tv and sometimes not even then, the focus is not, NOT on the television. Case closed.

Oh dear, I've wasted precious study time to fill this out. Ah well, it's been fun nonetheless. Hope you laughed Jammy Jam. I love you madly.

Wednesday, February 07, 2007


I just read an excerpt from Siri Agrell's book "Bad Bridesmaid" and all I have to say is: where do I get my copy? Clearly this woman has done her research. I was only half a bridesmaid, and by half I mean was asked, said yes, bought the dress, which was a glorified prom dress (the groom's sister said it had to be a two piece halter dress or else she wouldn't be in the wedding) a size too big for me because the bride wanted to be the skinniest and PERIWINKLE, only to have the bride cancel the wedding three months before launch date and be stuck with this hideous periwinkle monstrosity that did not even once come in contact with my body. I did eventually part with it and sent it to one of those prom charities that provide dresses for needy girls. That's what it was perfect for. When I was 16 I probably would've drooled over a $168 periwinkle pouf-skirt 2 piece with a beaded halter. 8 years later, not so much. Anyways, the quotation:

More than a wearable wedding accessory, the bridesmaid dress has developed into a modern tool of female ritual humiliation. One suspects that there is a global conspiracy afoot to persuade women to dress up like idiots and bound down an aisle-way to turn us against each other so we can never unite toward the goal of total world domination.

Monday, February 05, 2007


I am home sick today (a cold this time. Can you even believe it??!!) and to pass the time before I drive myself to class I clicked on sitemeter (I am supposed to be doing my animal behavior reading but and finding it difficult to concentrate on chapter 1, a detailed and long chapter about the origins of animal behavior. blah!). Apparently, the visitors to this site hail from all over the place, which is a downright shock to me, I thought about 3 people visited this thing, plus or minus the few people who saw the blog name and were hoping that this was an anti-suffragist movement blog, hahahaha.

I just want to say "Karibu" - welcome, and sorry these last few posts have been less then exhilirating! It'll get better once life is better organized, which will be soon. I swear..........

In the meantime, entertain yourself with the daily pictures, I do actually update those. Almost every day.....

ALSO - enjoy the little bit I just added in the sidebar - flickr zeitgeist!

Thursday, February 01, 2007

I know I know, it's the third of the day but..

Ok so I know this is the third post of the day, but I just heard about the passing of Molly Ivins, a Smithie from the class of '66. For those of you who don't know who she is, here's a very sweet article about her.

I just wanted to say a little something about the woman. I know she was an author and an activist, but what I will remember about her was her sense of humor. When I saw her at Rally Day in 2001, I thought I was going to piss my pants. She was a woman who didn't hold anything back and you could tell she wasn't afraid to tell a person what she thought of them to their face. Some of her political views were a bit rabid to me, but c'mon, she's a Smithie, and honestly, to another Smithie that's the only thing that really matters.

My favorite Molly story was the one she told about her hometown: The KKK, the Ku Klux Klan, came to demonstrate in Austin just two weeks ago; they came on the Saturday before the Martin Luther King holiday to protest the fact that the state of Texas now recognizes the birthday of Martin Luther King. We don’t have very many Klansmen in Austin, so they had to bus them in from Waco. Forty of them got off wearing sheets and hoods and were met by 5,000 citizens of Austin who “mooned” them. It was really artistic. It was sort of like a wave on Congress Avenue. And that’s the kind of thing I mean about having a little fun fighting for freedom.

She made me proud to be a Smith woman: "It wasn't that Smith taught me that women can do anything," Ivins said. "Smith taught me to simply assume women can do anything! And as I went forth to conquer the world in 1966, I didn't yet realize what a great gift that [concept] was. It took me a long time -- and I'm still grateful for it."


Clearing the Air

Ok I feel the need to neutralize my post of slight rage, seen below :P
Enjoy Amy and Lily being cute:Lily is obsessed with Amy. I mean, I know he loves me and I probably interact with him the most, but when Amy is in the room and Lily is out of his cage, it's all about Ame. He sits on her boobs and taps them with his beak (one of his character traits, tapping. we think he's testing different surfaces when he taps them). He also sings songs to her feet. Yup, he's a man with fetishes, hahahah.

The Scare that wasn't that Scary

So some of my favorite bloggers are deriding the city of Boston to their reaction of the advertising devices left under bridges and highways as part of a marketing scheme for the Aqua Teen Hunger Force feature-length film coming out in March. The full story can be found here.

I wanted to leave a comment on some of these blogs, but I figured that it would be easier just to summarize here.

Some of the things I read had the following spin: "How could they not know that these weren't bombs" "how could the "Aqua Teen Hunger Force" the 'best cartoon ever' characters not be recognized" "why is the media being so accusatory of Turner Networks" "why are they such alarmists" "the Boston Police were ridiculous" "How could anyone think this marketing scheme was anything but brilliant" and the list goes on. Here's how I feel about the deal.

1. When you put anything not readily identifiable under a major roadway or under a bridge which enables a major subway line to cross a large river, it's not cool. I don't give a shit if it IS an effing lite brite. The point is, you didn't tell anyone what you're doing, and when you live in this day and age and in this region of the country, something that looks like a box with wires coming out of it attached to a battery pack is going to arouse suspicion.

2. How could the Boston, Transit, and State Police have responded in any other way besides cautious? Like I said, they had no idea what these things were, and even after they recovered them, they still didn't. Despite the fact that there are many folks out there who think that Aqua Teen Hunger Force is the "best cartoon ever" I would never recognize a character from it, and I can guarantee you that most police officers probably wouldn't either. I live with a state trooper, I know these things, trust me!

3. If these HAD been bombs, which I understand they weren't, but had they been, and had the police allowed traffic to cross bridges and drive under and over overpasses and allowed the trains to keep running over the Charles and god-forbid something happened, their asses would've been on a platter. This city has let things slide in the past - I hate to harp on 9/11 but two of the planes came right out of our airport. While we'll never really understand what it's like to have a plane take down two of our buildings and I hope we never experience that either, what we do understand is how it feels to know that your city's system failed and let a big part of 9/11 happen. Yeah, I think they would've done it anyways, but Logan Airport just made it all the easier. A lot of our people were on those planes and we haven't forgotten how we were walked all over- how could we, it's on security video and it's played all the time up here when anyone references the hijackings. So when there's any kind of scare, those memories have to come flooding back and the authorities get cautious and defensive. And while it may seem ridiculous to some, irritating to others, I will 10 out of 10 times vote for erring on the side of caution. You don't want me to take liquids on a plane? Fine, done. You want me to wait outside the station while you put the bomb dogs down there for a routine check? Go ahead, I have all the time and convenience in the world when it comes to my safety. I have rights, and one of those rights is the freedom from fear, to not have to think twice about boarding a train or a bus in the city in which I work, and if a little bit of time and effort is required on my part, it's ok. I know the CLU has very different feelings about this and I respect that, but this is how I feel.

4. I think the city handled this extremely well. Traffic was a bit of an issue for part of the day, as was public transportation, but did the city "shut down"? Absolutely not. I got to work and school fine yesterday, and had I been caught in the midst of everything (because I passed over the "advertising" locations several times yesterday) I still would've managed to get home at a reasonable hour. The media was indeed ridiculous, but aren't they always? I saw no one panicking because of anything they saw on CNN. Our police officers were calm and efficient and our public officials were pissed but perfectly rational. We took care of the issue and went about our daily lives. A lot of us, me included, weren't even on top of things enough to realize that the whole "bomb scare" was going on around us. I crossed the Longfellow Bridge right before the police shut it down, and the Park Street station had been closed when my train got there, yet I had no idea. Why? Because the police, mayor and governor weren't sure what they were dealing with, but they were sure that there was no need to panic. Those who they felt were threatened in anyway were dealt with appropriately, everyone else told to be vigilant. Nothing too heavy. I appreciate that, especially since I am a huge proponent of "let's not panic until we have something about which to panic" (except when it comes to natural disasters because I was panicking for the people of Louisiana and Mississippi 2 days before Katrina hit. Probably more than that a-hole governor and mayor were. Seriously, I sat in Virginia completely distressed at what I saw on the radar. So don't ever f*ck with natural disasters. Panic, pack up your sh*t, and leave, don't wait until elected officials tell you to panic, by then, I guarantee you it will be too late).

5. As for punishing those who did this - yes, I know we weren't the only city to have these things planted, yes I know they were planted several weeks ago and we're just seeing them now, but to set up these little lite brite devices and their battery pack and stuff under a bridge is just shady. What's even stranger is not telling anyone about it. Yeah it can be a whole nice surprise for everyone to see the little lightboards and crap you don't have to ruin the surprise by telling everyone, but couldn't you just drop a line to the police so they know how to respond when people talk about suspicious packages under bridges?? When you don't fess up to placing these items and when no one knows what they are and you bother 3 separate police forces, the coast guard, the governor, the mayor, the mbta and the interstates, that's when you get in big ass trouble. That's when people start talking lawsuits and money. You've cost us time, money, and patience. Not so cool. If someone had just said something to someone from the very beginning, all this could've been avoided, because trust me, the police probably felt pretty dumb when they found out that they had been detonating glorified lite brites all day, never mind the fact that they've completely wasted their time on some trivial sh*t that no one really cares about.

Well thank you for letting me rant. Don't hate on Boston for responding like this. We're a cool city, maybe not as well acquainted with "Aqua Teen Hunger Force" as other regions of the nation, but forgive us, for we have the Red Sox and the Patriots, so there's not huge amount of time we can dedicate to the Cartoon Network. We're pretty practical folk, the natives at least, stoic New Englanders who don't make a fuss about too much, just know for the city to go to great lengths it's because they had a valid concern. Hope that wherever you live that they would respect the safety of the residents enough to take whatever action they thought was necessary to ensure your protection.