conversation......

Xcalibur: You better be lucky I can't make a sperm font
wildorchid: o~~~
wildorchid: there's a sperm
Xcalibur: O'''''''
wildorchid: 0 o~~~
wildorchid: egg and sperm
wildorchid: & this is a fetus
Xcalibur: (*)
wildorchid: thats a boob with a high nipple
wildorchid: hahh
wildorchid: or an orange
Xcalibur: LOL
wildorchid: hee
Xcalibur: \_____/
Xcalibur: that is your legs up in the air
wildorchid: hahaha you made my crotch too wide
wildorchid: _
wildorchid: or that
wildorchid: hahaha
wildorchid: 8==D
wildorchid: that's an abstract rendition of your penis
wildorchid: 8==D and your balls, of course
Xcalibur: oh that is nice
Xcalibur: very creative


Ain't love grand?

Merry Effing Christmas

Mistake one: I decided to go to the Derby Street Shops to buy "nice" cards. Like a special card for Jam, special card for my grandparents, a special card in which to send my check to the dudes who made the Foster Parrots Calender, that kind of thing. When I had been bumped into for the 47th time and the 56th person had walked in front of me whilst I was browsing through the cards, I freaked out. Thankfully, I did this silently. I then put all of the cards back, called the woman who I held the door for and who didn't thank me "bitch" and got back into the safe green confines of the forester.

Mistake two: I decided to conquer Wal-Mart. I needed medicine for my canker sore, which is in the front of my mouth and out of control so I thought "go forth and brave Wal-Mart 4 days before Christmas." That was also an insane situation. Crazy absolutely crazy. The first thing I had to do was fight for a parking space. Then I made my way into the store, grabbed a basket and went right to the film section, to grab some Kodak UC400 professional because I'm a film whore and I'm stocking up for Kenya. I think 2 or 3 more packs of that and I'll be set, which is good, cause at $12 a pop, it hurts the wallet a little bit. I then wandered to the fabric section, because after driving my cousin to work and seeing her Vera Bradley tote, I decided I wanted to make the quilted tote I set out to make last fall......I didn't find fabric for that, but I did wander into the yarn section after knocking over a display (and saying "OH GOOOOODDDD" aloud - for that I got stares from the unkempt fat people known to congregate in Wal-Mart. I'm not sure why they were staring. Was it cause I was talking to myself? Was it because I took the Lord's name in vain? I DON'T KNOW!) anyways, yarn, and upon seeing cheap acrylic yarn, I was reminded of an email I received from lion brand knitting that said blankets and afghans were needed for hurricane victims in Mississippi. If you know me then you know how I am. I grabbed 6 skeins of yarn (hopefully two afghans worth) to make simple blocks that I will sew together into a blanket. Next I went to try and secure some Coke zero, no luck, so I moved on to travel size beauty products. Don't you hate it when you go to look for something and someone sees you looking at it and decides that they need whatever you're looking at too, so they STEP IN FRONT OF YOU and start reaching around you? Yeah, well there was a lady like that in the travel aisle. So annoying. The only person more annoying was the one that I made room for in the kleenex aisle. She had a big cart, so I stepped back to let her through, and she pushed her cart through, but stopped it in front of me, so she could take her sweet ass time perusing the Puffs and Kleenex looking for the perfect box while I waited for her to move. I wanted to scream. Needless to say, I couldn't get out of there fast enough. While using self checkout, an emo boy in this gay knitted cap comes up behind me with all these girlie pink toys and puts them on the belt. This always irritates me. So they go all the way up to the front by my stuff, so he walks up right next to me. Then he watches over my shoulder as I do the transaction. He was in one fat fucking hurry, which is ridiculous, since we all know nothing can be done fast around this time of year. He watches over my shoulder for the exact moment he can press "start" on the touch screen and start checking out the girlie toys with reckless abandon. He watched me swipe my card, watched as the number touchpad came up, watched as I hit "cancel" and when I was really sure he was watching my every move, instead of signing my name on the electronic signature line I wrote "Wait your fucking turn"

I am such a bitch! Merry effing Christmas!

Frustrated

So there was a quadruple homicide in Boston last night. So I don't live in Boston, but I work here, and the first ten years of my life were spent in a suburb pretty close to the city and the other 13 have been spent a little farther away, but if I were to ever identify with a city BOSTON IS IT - IT'S THE MOTHERLAND and I love it so much and I know that will never change. So a quadruple homicide, while it didn't happen in my back yard, is really disturbing, because I want Boston to be the best it can be, and it's just not doing that right now. That brings murders up to 71 this year, and at the rate we've been going lately, it will probably rise in the 3 weeks we have left. This is a higher murder rate than we've seen in a decade. A WHOLE DECADE! I remember the late 80s. It seemed like someone was murdered every single night. My mom would have the morning news on while she was getting us ready for the bus and every morning Jim Boyd from WCVB would tell us that someone had been shot or stabbed the night before. All of the sudden, things started changing....Over the course of 9 years, the murder rate plummeted, from 152 in 1990 to 31 in 99! THIRTY ONE! And some how in the course of 6 years, we've started to climb the ladder again. Why? I don't get it. Our mayor is the same. Our police commissioner is fairly new, but seems to be doing an ok job. There are initiatives to stop violence in "problem" neighborhoods, led by community leaders and ministers. The quadruple homicide occured next door to a Reverend that's been leading these anti-violence initiatives! What is going on here? And why are so many young people involved. It always seems like young people are the ones shooting at each other, killing each other. Have the churches become less involved? Are there less after school programs? Are there too few police? Are people turning a blind eye? I've been reading article after article trying to figure it out. I've read that the BPD suck and aren't doing their job...there aren't enough police...the churches and youth coalitions are fragmented or disbanded...the high school dropout rate is high and illegal firearms are easily accessible to deal for money because droupouts can't find gainful employment...budget cuts...churches and coalitions competing for money that has been poured into the city's crime stopping initiatives...small gangs of repeat offenders...personal vendettas...sense of hopelessness among teens and young adults....the attitude "he has a gun, so I need to have one"...all of this makes sense I guess.....
I hate feeling helpless. I hate that kids think they don't have options besides violence. I hate it and it's driving me crazy and I don't know what to do and I want to make it stop but I don't even know where to begin....I just want this Boston to be the best Boston, because I hear stories of how it was back in it's heyday, and its slow decline throughout the 70' and 80's. I remember it at one of its worst time and have witnessed "The Boston Miracle" and now work in the city, loving it more than I ever have. Something needs to be done. I am tired of all of this. I can't imagine how victim's families and friends must feel. They must be exhausted.

(pic: mit.edu)

In case of apocalyptic catastrophe, open freezer

So last night my mother made a roast beef dinner. It was, in a word, amazing (for those of us who like to indulge in cow every once in a while. The cow lovers would have wept at the sight of the beautiful red meat juices flowing from the deliciously browned and wonderful smelling piece of meat on our counter).

So you think now "well ex-cuuuuuse me, little miss "my mom makes a sit down dinner every sunday"

yeah right, that's what you'd like to think.

While my mother cooks nearly every night of the week and we usually sit down as a family (unless only mom and I are eating, then we get lazy, bring our plates into the family room and drape ourselves across the couch or in the recliner to eat while leisurely watching the tv), she usually does not do anything fancy on Sundays. I mean she's a great cook and cooks great meals, but cooking a roast beef is usually saved for Christmas dinner or something like that. Until NOW

What is different about now you ask? I'll explain

For years and years, basically as long as I can remember, my mother has very carefully planned out the whole process of buying and storing food. If a whole turkey is on sale one week at the supermarket for .99 cents a pound, my mom would buy it and freeze it. If chicken breasts were on sale for a good enough price, she'd buy 4 packages. Same with hamburger, steak, pork, etc. We were able to do this because through my dad's various "connections" he of course knows an appliance guy, and we were basically given the freezer because it had to get off the showroom floor or something like that, so we have the accessory basement freezer, which is huge and has a large capacity for frozen meats and stuff like that. My mother would also make soups and stews in bulk and freeze them (though she did slow down when one day we realized all of our tupperware storage bowls were gone - being used in the freezer for storage) buy loaves of bread in bulk and freeze them, buy pizza crusts, pie dough, flour and sugar (freezing them protected them from our damp cellar) and things like popsicles and frozen drink mixes. The freezer was organized in a fairly orderly manner. Top shelf: leftovers, random game meat such as bear and elk acquired by my father through his "connections", and meat that was not numerous enough to have it's own shelf, such as a turkey. The next shelves featured mostly beef and chicken, with the bottom drawer occupied almost entirely by bread products. This freezer was sometimes so full that when you opened the door, a cascade of frozen meats would come tumbling out and hit the cement floor with a hollow thud.

When Hurricane Katrina hit, we watched horrified at the scenes before us. Horrified. It also made us think. If a hurricane hit here, and we were trapped for a week or so, could we survive? (Note: while everyone has a different view and argument about this issue, whether or not the Northeast would ever be immobilized by a storm, I would like to point out that I have been snowed into my house twice, once without electricity and heat, that I can remember without a way to get out, and even when we made our way out we were pretty much trapped anyways, as nothing was open, you couldn't get gas, you couldn't get groceries or water or an oil delivere, etc)
Ok, back to the question - would we survive? My mom immediately said "no, we wouldn't make it"
I was quiet for a minute and said "have you SEEN the freezer?" She just stared at me, kinda like "what?" and I said "mom, we probably could live here for a month if we rationed our food, for a week if we ate whatever we wanted. We have stockpiled canned goods, pasta and rice, we have some frozen veggies (even though my mother looks down on them!), and MEAT, woman, we have MEAT. Her argument was "what if we lost power?" I said "if for whatever reason our generator didn't work (side note: get a gas or oil powered generator. it will save your ass. i'm not even kidding) we'd fire up the grill and have us some barbecue." Finally she agreed that we could make it until help arrived on the food we had in the house, nevermind the fact that we could probably construct a shelter out of the paper towels we have stockpiled for BJ's....

So from then on the basement freezer became known, in my head, as the "apocalypse freezer" because if the apocalypse came, and whatever the apocalypse involved didn't kill us outright, at least we could eat some steak and wings prior to our final undoing.

Where does the roast beef come it? The apocalypse freezer is sadly and systematically being emptied. Believe it.

My mother started to realize that things frozen for 2 years straight did not taste good, even when defrosted and cooked. She realized that freezer burn really did ruin meat and bread and vegetables. She realized that the bear meat that has been in our freezer and is dated "2002" will probably never be eaten. She has learned that all the crackers she bought and kept "in case of company" are now stale, and we are starting to throw away box by box. She also realized that just because you buy something as a snack doesn't mean your kids will know they can eat it, especially when you yelled at your daughter for not eating the turkey you bought for her sandwiches, and then yell at her again for slicing up the 1 inch thick slab of turkey you bought for a "special salad" that was sliced up because you never told anyone there was thin sliced deli meat turkey for sandwiches and a slab of deli meat turkey for a "special salad!"

So the roast beef was part of the emptying of apocalypse freezer. It's sad and lonely in there now...You can actually see the bottoms of the shelves, something I haven't seen in years. Now while part of me is worried about the shelves emptying and the cabinets getting dusty, I know my mom won't really be able to completely ignore her ways.

That's why when our "meat guy connection" from the end of the street showed up with about 100 pounds worth of various meets last week that my mother lovingly unwrapped and then rewrapped in meat paper, I know that apocalypse freezer will not be lonely for long. heh heh heh..

how boring work is today

sent to me by a coworker:

-----Original Message-----
From:
Sent: Friday, December 02, 2005 12:32 PM
To: Allison

Subject:

Dyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyying! god this is awful! i think i'd rather be at the gyn lol

my response:

AHAHAHHAHHAHAAHAHHAHAH!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I'm not sure about that one.
wait.......let me think.....yup, I'd rather be at the gyn...

Written by my sister, posted here cause she's a badass

Morning Chain. Crappy, crappy, crappy morning for Amy, but it still has time to improve. There was a little improvement in Finance -_- The Taurus is, unfortunately out of commission right now. I ran out to the store last night and on the way my brakes went kaputz. So I figured out that I needed brake fluid, took my roommates car and THREE GAS STATIONS LATER I finally got some. At the first one, these two old ladies working there were like, "Honey, if we don't have it out, it's not here." Ok. Second one, the car products were next to the tampons, which I thought was pretty sweet. And all the labels under the products were for baked beans. And the door didn't shut all the way. And when I asked the guy about brake fluid, he goes, "Ooooh yeah. Someone asked about that a couple of days ago." I look at him and go, "Oh wow. Ok." Finally I found fluid at the third gas station. I come back and I'm all car-woman and I have the gigantic blue Mag-Light and I'm adding oil and I'm adding brake fluid and I'm talking to the Taurus and I'm like, "I'm putting fluids in you, bitch - you're going to work." I get in the car and start her up and pump the brakes a few times and then take it around the block. Nothing. No change. It's a little better but, I'm still braking all the way to the floor before I stop. I pull around back to park in front of my house and, HARK, a huge-ass puddle is on the street where my car was. I approach the puddle and stand over it in a dominating way. It's like out of a Western. I'm Clint Eastwood. I start calling it names and then I crouch down and sniff it. Actually, I stuck my finger in it and sniffed my finger because there was a distinct odor coming off the puddle. Yup, brake fluid. Ok, ok. Maybe I spilled or something. I go up to the car....approaching it much like I did the puddle. It's GURGLING. I bend over..... Yup, brake fluid. :(

So now, I'm waiting for Eddie's Towing by way of AAA to come tow me to good ol' Purvis Ford up the street where Tony, the nicest Ford Service man EVER who goes, "A 1997 Ford Taurus? Green? Yeah, there was about an 80% chance of that" and then when I told him I needed ot talk to my dad before I did anything, he was like "Oh honey, I deal with you young ladies all the time. You just do what you need to." I love you, Tony. You don't know it, but I do. Tony will help me out.

Pffft. Ok, so that's my story. The end

The Joy of Family

THE JOY OF FAMILY, TOGETHERNESS, MARTHA STEWART, AND GLUE GUNS........

Thanksgiving. Was it really a week ago?
The time does really fly this time of year...

I love Thanksgiving. I mean LOVE IT. I won't look to you and say "Thanksgiving is my favorite holiday because everyone takes a moment to pause and be grateful (though we do) and I don't like Christmas cause it's commercialized and my birthday because it's centered around presents" HA I LOVE PRESENTS! I love Thanksgiving not just for the food, not just for the pausing and being grateful, not just for the football, but because Thanksgiving with are family is akin to a frickin' three-ringed circus.

It's partly my fault. Who looks at the Martha Stewart website at the Thanksgiving centerpieces and thinks "homemade pom-pom turkey placecards. Another brilliant idea, Martha....Jail really did a wonder for your creative flair...I am going to strive to emulate you this holiday season." WHO THINKS THAT? Oh shit, I DO. I am crazy when it comes to the holidays and craftiness. I think that came at a young age. My mother is extremely crafty and was a children's librarian for years and was the master of kid crafts. She always encouraged our craftiness when my sister and I were little. We were also sent to my aunt's church every Sunday after Thanksgiving for a number of years to make Christmas crafts. While I never quite graduated to the pine bough and holly floral arrangement and cut-out-of-white-paper nativity scenes (we still have the paper nativity!) I certainly had a grand old time coloring in woodblock shapes with fat vibrant crayola markers and affixing an iridescent rainbow angel or baby jesus sticker in the center. Or making little bells out of communion cups (probably some sort of mortal sin), or decorating a metallic glass ball by writing my name on it in glue and dousing (and I mean dousing) the thing with glitter. There was even one year where I made my own snowglobe, but since I was afraid of superglue, I used it too sparingly on the jar lid that served at the base of the snowglobe, so I was left with a leaky glitter-filled mess my mother had to clean out of the car, henceforth leading to a ban on the snow-globe making table. Anyways, my point is that we've always been a crafty family. My father is crafty in that Martha Stewart way, more in a "let me use fire and welding tools to make a wrought iron stand for the bird feeder" type way, which is pretty damn convenient, let me tell you.

So I decide to make the turkeys. I email them to my sister and she is all "alskdjlfaeuiroawhlasdhf asldkfja ldkjaosdlfhawoihaw erh WANT TO MAKE TURKEYS" excited and stuff. So I go on a mission. I go to the local AC Moore. AC Moore is my new obsession. If I was ever under house arrest, I would probably request that AC Moore be listed as "my house" and the conditions of my house arrest would be 1. never to leave the confines of AC Moore for the length of sentence and 2. be allowed to bring lifetime supply of pictures to AC Moore. There I would live on Dunkin Donuts (which is right across the mall) and I would scrapbook. I would pitch a tent right out front in the "seasonal" corner of the store and be as happy as camera whore in a film store....Right, on track, I go to AC Moore to buy the things Martha says I need for my turkeys: red, orange, white, black, gold and brown felt. It's on sale for 20 cents a piece, so I buy four of each color. Check. Black pipe cleaners. No prob, check. Red, black, brown, white, grey and gold wool yarn. No prob, I think. I go to the yarn section to the pure wool yarns. $5.99 a PIECE HELLS NO! I probably said it out loud too. I think "F this, I'll get a wool blend." NO wool blends to be had. I scrap the yarn and go to seek out the pom pom maker. AC Moore carries two brands. BOTH sold out. I think "some hyper crafty B*TCHES with too much time on their hands have the same idea and are MAKING THESE TURKEYS and have bought all the pom pom makers." THen I realize that I basically fit above description, ahahhaha oh well.. I decide to pay up and go to Wal-Mart, because Wal-Mart probably has cheap yarn, cheap pom pom makers and the type of clientele that goes there are not shopping for craft items. No luck. I go to Michael's. Nothing. DAMMIT!

Now this was the Tuesday before Thanksgiving and I had really wanted to get a head start on things since I was making home made pom poms and my sister wouldn't be there to help until Wednesday, since we all knew that her flight would be delayed Tuesday coming out of DC (and it was, by about 4 hours or so) but instead I sat around, knitted (or maybe just plain sat on my ass I don't remember) and watched TV. My sister got in at about 12:30am and I went to bed, no part of the turkeys done yet.

Wednesday was a work day. When my sister picked me up at the train, we went on a mission. Joann's fabrics had a yarn sale, so we got three colors of wool acrylic blend yard for 2 bucks and a pom pom maker (yessssssssss). I figured we could start making everything when we got back from our Thanksgiving revelries at Friday's. Ha. Two huge margaritas and my sister was out of commision as far as crafts were concerned. She copied the templates while I made pom poms, and then had to eventually go to bed...

9AM Thursday. I wake up and flip on the Macy's parade (CBS coverage, unfortunately because my NBC doesn't come in too well) and go to work. It's like a sweatshop in my room (ok not that bad, and it was cold, so I wasn't sweating) and there were bits of yarn everywhere. My sister came in to cut out felt, but later bailed.....I will forgive her though, cause she went and got me a medium caramel swirl iced latte with whipped cream on it :) Anyways, I had stayed up on the phone til 2am making turkey bodies (multi-colored I may add, no easy feat!) and talking to boyfriend, who was cooking for Thanksgiving. By the time I got up on Thursday I had the bodies done at lease, and made a bunch of heads. I cut out the remaining felt, revved up the glue gun and got to work. I was a turkey-making machine. I glued felt and pom poms and pipe cleaners together and produced something quite unlike Martha's rendition of the pom pom turkey, but I was satisfied. I even made an emergency turkey in case a wayward wandering cousin showed up at my Grandmother's.

By the time we all managed to sit down, the table was quite lovely. My grandmother sets a good table, and had candles and beautiful centerpieces and everything. I took pictures too. And though being with my family can be a three-ringed circus (my great auntie spoke loudly through grace, cause she can't hear too well....my grandmother's hearing aid amplified my father's voice to the point of madness....the men fell asleep on the couch watching football....the cousins and women tried their hand a trivial pursuit....I almost fell asleep sitting up....etc etc) it was all in all FUN TIMES with the family, and FUN TIMES with the turkeys.....and the food....I can't even talk about it, I might have an orgasm if I do, and that would be inappropriate, cause I'm sitting at my desk, at work ;)

THERE IS NO MAGIC PILL

I will say it here so I do not have to say it AGAIN.

When you have a virus (ie mono, viral meningitis) , there is (usually) no cure-all, thus is the nature of a VIRUS.
A bacterial infection (ie strep, blood poisoning, bacterial pneumonitis) is treatable with ANTIBIOTICS, thus is the nature of BACTERIA.

aware.md explains it simply:

There are two types of germs that cause most infections in the United States - viruses and bacteria:

Virus - viral infections include
All colds and fluMost coughs Most sore throats Usually involve several parts of the body
Antibiotics CANNOT KILL viruses A virus is an infectious agent, smaller than bacteria, which requires the cells of a living organism to grow or reproduce. Viruses cause a variety of infectious diseases, among them the common cold, diarrhea, chicken pox, yellow fever, most childhood respiratory diseases and the majority of infections of the upper respiratory passages.

Bacteria - bacterial infections include:
Strep throatUrinary tract infectionsMost ear infectionsSome sinus infectionsAre usually localized at a single point in the body
Antibiotics CAN KILL bacteria IF the bacteria are not resistantBacteria are minute life forms which can cause infections in humans. Bacteria have the ability to adapt quickly to their surroundings. Their goal is to survive and multiply. This ability to adapt to their surroundings is the basis of antibiotic resistance. Surviving contact with that antibiotic allows the bacteria to resist it in future contacts.


SO

WHEN I COME INTO WORK AND TELL YOU MY TONSIL IS SWOLLEN OUT OF PROPORTION AND I HAVE A *WICKED* SORE THROAT BUT MY DOCTOR CAN'T DO A THING ABOUT IT BECAUSE IT"S SOME SORT OF VIRAL INFECTION

DO NOT ASK ME WHY SHE DIDN"T GIVE ME ANYTHING TO TAKE
THERE IS NOTHING TO TAKE

*grabs strands of hair to pull while screaming as loud as swollen tonsil allows*

4 days fixed

in the past four days I have

gone to the gym once
volunteered
been given 24 hours notice for a bachelorette party
been given 8 days notice for a wedding
made an entire mini scrapbook for said bachelorette party
attended said bachelorette party
saw a man's naked ass *shudder*
started talking to my mom again :D
started talking to my dad again :D
SAW MY SUPAH HOT BOYYYYYFFFFRRRRIIIIIEEEENNNNNDDDD :D
went to the Mystic Aquarium
seen: parrots, a little mouse, penguins, 2 beluga whales, fur seals, stellar sea lion, sharks, seahorses, pirhanas, poison dart frogs, tarantulas, clown fish, anemones, sea stars, and all manner of aquarium animals
touched a sting ray
CELEBRATED A WONDERFUL BIRTHDAY FOR RACHEL!
given 5 presents :D
had vomiting and explosive diarrhea :P
thought about Thanksgiving 3,769,231,490,238 times
thought about Christmas 1,456,792,873,226 times
plotted evil and good 212,376,598,874,213,409,223 times. heh heh heh

coworker fun

I sneeze.

Anorexia (nickname, long story): said in Mom voice "Are you getting sick????"
Me: said in head "Yeah, sick of YOU"
Me: said aloud "No, I'm just still allergic to work.

leave me alone, please

In the last 24 hours I have had:

a flu shot
3 bad commutes
a fight with my mother
a fight with my father
a fight/bad conversation with my sister
a fight/bad conversation with my boyfriend
a fall down an entire flight of stairs
and to add insult to injury, I have to go to the dentist tomorrow.

Can I curl up in the fetal position and cover myself with blankets and well someone tell me when Friday is here?

Thanks.

Caution: Bridges Freeze Before Roadways

So I escape from work early on Thursday after the conference call from hell and take Friday off so I can escape to the wilds of the White Mountains for a weekend with the family, including my SISTER who was flying into Boston from Virginia.

Thursday night was a rush. I got home, went to the axis of evil pet store to get bird food because I was in a pinch (excuses) got the birds fed and watered, got my shit together, and without making us late despite my father's sighs and comments, got out the door at the predetermined time of 5:30pm.

We made our way slowly to Logan, cutting through Quincy Center (WHY???) and then hopping on the x-way again, and pulled into terminal A. My father had to take care of some police business, so I went in to wait for my sister's flight to arrive, killing the time by buying an Oprah magazine (which I never read) and peanut m and m's. After a little bit of waiting, she arrived, my dad met us, and we were off.

IT wasn't too cold in Boston, which was good since my sister was in a white hoodie, cami, black jammie pants and flip flops. I had my work clothes on, high heel boots, a silk blouse and grey wool pants with my raincoat. hahaha we were kind of dressed opposite, but we didn't really care, even though we were planning on stopping for dinner at Uno's in Concord.

We did end up stopping, had some great appetizers, some beer, pizza and then started out for Lincoln, NH, about another 20 or so exits north. My father had mentioned switching drivers but he never did, so we just let him do the driving, while I occasionally checked in with my mother at the other end. She had left earlier in the day with my grandmother, something my father had orchestrated so my mother would be surprised by my sister's sudden appearance.

By the time we were passing Plymouth, NH my dad mentioned that the gas gauge was on 'E'. Unlike me, he enjoys driving this way - I think it's the "let's see how far I can go on "E" " type of thrill thing, something I personally do not share. I kept saying "Well there's gas at Campton, and we're coming up on it" and I think he FINALLY got the hint when he pulled off at Exit 28. SHortly before pulling off, it had started to snow a bit, and while gassing up in Campton it was REALLY snowing and starting to accumulate. The temperature was constantly dropping as well. My dad leapt in the car after filling up and was like "shit it's cold, good thing we're almost there"

We proceeded on to Lincoln, and when we passed the "Lincoln 1 mile" sign I called my mom to tell her we were almost there. No sooner had I hung up the phone, do we start into a slow skid. Then everything happened so fast. We start to skid and then we move to the left side of the road, and my father slowly turn the wheel into the skid, then opposite. Soon we are careening around the highway, which was thankfully deserted at 11:00pm. We are going to the left and right. While this was happening very fast, it seemed like it was slow motion, and the whole time all I could think was "please keep us upright, PLEASE keep us upright" As we were propelled forward my father seemed to be losing and gaining control of our SUV all at the same time. We started to slide right again, and we hit the right rear on the guard rail. This slowed us down a lot, but we then bounced off and slid left. It then became painfully apparent that we were going to hit something, and I, like an ASS said "we're gonna hit" and braced myself for impact with the guardrail. Sure enough, we hit the left guardrail, very hard. All I really remember is my left leg flying up and whacking under the dashboard, I don't remember the whiplash that we'd all be suffering from the next day. We sat there for a split second, and then I heard my sister crying and my dad saying "ARE YOU ALRIGHT" It was him I was worried about most; we hit in his corner of the car, and I had been watching him the whole time we skidded across the road, I don't know why. Maybe cause I didn't want to see the road, maybe cause I knew we were entirely in his hands. He yelled, so I figured he was ok, and instead turned around in my seat to see my sister, who was surrounded by luggage, shaken up, but seemed ok. I tried to hug her around the seat, which obviously didn't work, and turned to look at my dad, but he was no longer in the car. I heard "get out of the car girls, get out NOW GET OUT OF THE CAR" My sister hopped out, and I fumbled for the plastic bag I had packed for her with mittens, a hat, boots, socks and her winter jacket. "ALLISON get out of the CAR now!" THen I thought "Oh god, the car is on fire" because I smelled the brakes and their burning smell, so I scrambled, found the bag, and hopped out. My father was hunched over on his knees in the snow covered ravine on the other side of the guardrail saying "I can't find my glasses" This was because he had done a superman-esque leap out of the driver's side window, as the door was jammed shut by the guard rail. As he fumbled he said "CALL YOUR MOTHER" I called her and said "we're ok, but we've been in an accident" dead silence. I said "mom are you still there?" and she goes "yeah. you sure you're ok? what do I do" I said "call information, get the number for NH State Police, tell them where we are, and tell them we need someone out here, but we're not hurt" My dad continued to search. Between hugging my poor sister who had been hit in the head by a cooking pot during the accident, and helping her track down a jacket, I asked my father if I should call the state police. He said "YES" so I dialed *77. Call cannot be completed as dialed. Fucking A. Called 411. "What listing" I say "New Hampshire State Police" "What city" I say "New Hampshire State Police" they say "What listing?" I say "NEW HAMPSHIRE STATE POLICE IMMEDIATELY" "we're sorry please wait for a specialist." Well it must've been a lonely Thursday night and said specialist must've been jerking off in the back, because I counted 10 rings and hung up. SO I dialed 0. I get an operator. I say "I need to be connected to the New Hampshire State Police immediately, this is an emergency" She says "Oh you have to dial 911" AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!
So FINE. I dial 911 and I hear James f-ing Earl Jones going "Cingular" and FINALLY "New Hampshire State Police Emergency Line how can we help you?" Sigh of relief. I go through the whole thing "we've been in an accident, not hurt, really shaken up, road's got black ice, other people are skidding, we're most afraid of being hit by someone else, yadda yadda" The guy says "you're on the other side of the guardrail?" I say "yes" He says "now you're in New Hampshire, right?" SWEET JESUS MOTHER OF GOD NO I'M IN FLORIDA BUT WANTED TO SEE WHAT WOULD HAPPEN IF I CALLED 911 IN NEW HAMPSHIRE THEN TIMED HOW LONG IT TOOK THEM TO RESPOND! I say "yes sir, in New Hampshire" So he sends someone. We do a quick damage assessment: we hit the guardrail so hard, not only did we rip part of it out of the ground, but it jammed itself behind the tire and under the car. We were not going to be backing out and driving off the exit anytime soon....


These conversations should have been a good indication of how long we were about to wait for help. A random guy ran down the highway a few minutes after the crash with a flashlight and said "I was behind you and saw everything are you guys ok? Oh and I called the state police" While he and my dad were talking a tractor trailer skidded on what we came to find out was a frozen bridge, heading right towards us. AMy and I ran down the ravine and my dad and the other guy jumped the guardrail before the tractor trailer regained control and continued to speed down the highway. My dad sent the guy back to his car so he wouldn't be killed for helping us, and we huddled together to wait. And wait. and wait. After 30 minutes of waiting in the snow, a local policewoman pulled up. Having the safety of bluelights, I got my sister some sneaker from her suitcase, and as I did that, the state trooper (who will henceforth be called "Gary with the Hot Ass") pulled up. After they made sure we were ok, my sister and I were invited to hang out in the back of the police lady's car til help came and got us out.

This was both incredibly boring as well as slightly educational. Boring because this involved about two hours of waiting. But interesting because Hot Ass and local police girl had great conversations LPG: You hear about the meth lab on main st? HAG: No, but I had to respond to an arson last night, then arrested so and so for the second time for hitting up cars, but once I cuffed him he told me where he had stolen the stuff from. Or the police radio also provided entertainment: Police "I need a number on an address I have to respond to, I think it's the XYZ family" Dispatch: "you've been there before, I think it's 789" Police: "Yup, been there before. Ok. Thanks." Also, Local Police Girl made several heated phone calls to the Department of Transportation: "I TOLD YOU YESTERDAY to get out here and salt this bridge cause it froze last night and I skidded, and now you've had 3 phone calls before 11pm and we STILL had 2 accidents. I am sitting here with the second accident and I see two cars up ahead that have gone off the road" hahahah she scared them shitless cause 20 minutes later 3 salt trucks came.

A ramp truck came too, but was useless. He caused some more damage trying to extract the car, then said "I think we need the Fire Department to cut the guardrail up" SWEET thought Amy and I, firemen and power tools.

Now you have to remember that you are in New Hampshire in the start of the "North Country" and people don't see a lot of action. SO when the state police calls your local podunk fire department to take some heave equipment up to the highway and extract a car, they're gonna get excited, which is why two fully equipped fire trucks and a box truck were sent, along with about 18 firemen. The local police girl goes "jesus, what'd they send the whole brigade?" I said "oh let the firemen have their fun they get to use a saw..."

Around 1:30am we were finally extracted from the guardrail. My sister and I rode to the condo we were renting in the police car, while my dad went with the towing company. We were relieved to get there. We had to unload everything in the snow and cold and haul it in, but we made it in one piece.

I don't know if he's still doing it, but that night, my dad was really beating himself up about crashing. He said "I did everything I was trained to do, took my foot off the brake, turned into the skid and I still fucked up" I said "DAD you did everything right. If Amy or I had been driving we wouldn't have reacted properly and we would've rolled that thing over. You were amazing" The police officer had told us the grim truth. She said "thank god your dad's a cop and has all that training. Cause if you had flipped it, you would've jumped the guardrail, gone down the ravine, and then ended up below in the river, which is not where you want to be."

So basically, as much as my dad thinks he fucked up and messed up the car (we're waiting to see if it's fixable - it looks pretty bad, but not totally a lost cause) he is the one responsible for saving all of our asses. We got a chance to look at the accident scene in the daylight, and it was rather harrowing: we skidded about 50-75 feet across a bridge that was probaby a healthy 20 feet above the river. Had my father not known exactly how to react, we probably would've flipped at a much higher rate than the one at which we crashed, and definitely gone into the shallow river or its rock covered bank. He truly saved our lives, I think. And that's why he rocks.

Accident recount post officially over. The end. ;)

boring boring boring, this da-ay is so BORING

It is currently 1:45pm.
In 15 minutes I have a conference call.

But for the next 15 minutes I have nothing to do. I mean I have something but I don't want to do it. That's that.

Also, I get to go home in like, an hour, thanks to the fact I worked 3 hrs uncompensated overtime this week. Well more, because I skip lunch and don't leave early, but I don't keep track of that crap.
Anywas, I am going to get one the 2:59 inbound green line to park street, and that little bitch better be on time. And then I'm gonna transfer to the 3:24 outbound red line. AND THAT BITCH BETTER BE ON TIME TOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!! GRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR

I will not let the mbta f*ck with me and my transportation.

yawn. that was a pointless post. And I'm not even gonna draw a picture to go with it.

PS WHY'D THEY HAVE TO KILL SHANNON ON 'LOST' ????

Starbucks Cup #49, Beth Israel Deaconess, Boston

Baking may be regarded as a

science, but it's the chemistry

between the ingredients and the

cook that gives desserts life.

Baking is done out of love,

to share with family and friends,

to see them smile.

-- Anna Olson

Chef and hostess of the all-dessert

show Sugar on Food Network

Canada

sweet little ben bird, who we all loved

On my seventeenth birthday, I received a card from my grandparents. I'm sure I still have it too. IT said "Come with us this week to buy a: (and she sketched a little birdcage with a bird in it)"
I had wanted a bird for so so long, and I'm not sure why. Maybe it was because I had been fascinated with birds throughout my childhood and wanted some to observe up close. Maybe it was because I wanted a pet, having to be satisfied with fish for so many years. At any rate, my grandparents were the ones who made the final push to bring birds into the house. My mom was hesitant ("the noise, the mess") but being a sap for animals, she was not about to protest.

Not knowing any better, we went to the epitome of evil among bird pet stores (begins with a "p" ends with an "o") and stood in front of the glass case of parakeets for several minutes watching the large flock of birds move and play together. We quickly picked out a little blue bird, and "he" was beautiful. He had a beautiful bluish purple body, that faded into turquoise, blue green, green, and then a yellow head. He had black stripes on the top of his head, black and white wing feathers and a sweet little face with big black eyes. We picked him out immediately. Then we had to pick him out a friend. Our eyes were drawn to a green bird. She wasn't your average green parakeet. She was a darker shade of green. She had a little yellow face, and on the top of her black striped head there was a patch of yellow feathers that I thought was shaped like a star. They were both beautiful and made a good pair.

We surveyed the cages. Since we knew we wanted two birds, we decided to get a cockatiel cage and a good selection of toys for the two of them.

The ride home was an adventure. Each bird had it's own cardboard crate, and was chirping nervously. We let the out in their cage. And the rest is basically history.


Beatrice and Benedick, as we called them, provided us with hours of joy and entertainment. They played in their cage, they'd fight and chirp and preen each other. They'd throw their food out of their dish, they'd escape between the bars of their cage and fly around my room, and I'd walk in to find them sitting on my curtain rod or sitting amongst my stuffed animals. Each bird had its own distinct personality. We loved them more than any animal that had ever crossed the threshold of our house.

I went to Africa in January 2003, and upon coming home in May, I learned that Beatrice had died very suddenly one night in March. Apparently, my sister found her, and it was quite traumatic. My dad went out and dug through the frozen dirt in order to dig a suitable grave. She was buried with a poem from "Much Ado About Nothing" the play which inspired her name. That was sad to me. But I wasn't there to experience everything, so I felt sad, and moved on. After all, I still had my little Ben, who almost died of depression after the death of Beatrice, but my sister and mother managed to drag him up out of it at the last second.

Little Ben adapted to life on his own. He became more affectionate and even started giving my sister "kisses." He would sit in the corner of his cage and put his head through his legs, turning himself inside out. He would observe our cockatiel, Lily, for hours, and then scold him whenever he started to misbehave. Ben would sing contentedly with the stereo, and grind his beak happily as I sat quietly at my computer working and he looked on.

A couple of weeks ago, we noticed that Ben was getting a little quiet, a little old and tired looking. He was after all, at least 7, having been in our family for 6 1/2 years and being at least 6 months old at the time of his purchase. But still, we had worked so hard to keep him healthy, converting his seed diet to pellets, supplementing his meals with lettuce, when he actually would eat it. How could he be sick? We second guessed ourselves often. He's old, maybe he's not sick, he's not sneezing or weezing.....maybe he's just slowing down. Finally, when Ben sat on his perch, hunched over, breathing heavier than normal and keeping his eyes close for longer and longer periods of time, I knew something was wrong. Knowing parakeets are prone to tumors, I prepared myself for the worst. As Ben's condition remained stable, I realized I had to take the chance to bring him to the vet, while he was still well enough to eat and get around his cage. I took him to the local avian veterinarian. I left work one day at 1pm without telling anyone I was going. I just walked out, went to the pet store to buy a carrier and went to the vet's. She was very nice, and told me that Ben was very thin and small, but she couldn't palpate a tumor. She told me that she couldn't know what was really wrong with Ben without x-rays and tests, which would cost upwards of $300. Not that I could ever put a price on the bird that had brought me so much happiness, I was still not prepared to spend that kind of money without weighing my options first. I told the vet this, and she suggested antibiotics and a supplement to boost liver function. I was shown how to administer the meds and $106 later, I was sent home, armed with medication and a medicine dropper. I was going away that weekend, so I had to show my mom how to temp the bird with a treat and drop the medication in her mouth, as my mom is skittish about handling the birds.

When I left on Friday, Ben (we found out that he was actually a SHE when we went to the vet's) seemed to rally. She seemed a little perkier, a little sassier. I went away reassured. It would not last long, however, and upon my return on Sunday I went to her cage to find her left leg paralyzed. She adapted to this very quickly, but still I was very concerned. I continued to medicate her, change her water and feed her whatever she wanted. But I knew deep down that something was very wrong. She started to slow more and more. On Monday, she could barely climb. We modified her cage so that she wouldn't have to leave the floor of her cage. On Tuesday, I knew we were in for the worst. Ben just sat on the floor of her cage, closing her eyes frequently, breathing heavily. The paralysis was a classice indication of an inoperable kidney tumor, and I knew that there was nothing to be done. This was hard, just watching my pet waste away. The only heartening thing had been the vet's reassurance that she was not in any pain. I kept telling myself that, and feeding her her favorite treats. I checked on her incessantly throughout the night, and then went to watch Tv for an hour. By 10pm Tuesday, November 1, our little Ben was no longer.

I will say one thing. She looked entirely peaceful in her cage. She had not moved from the place I had last left her, and it looked as though she fell asleep, died, and sort of just turned over. I could not keep from crying though, as we had bonded especially tightly in the last few days of her life. My mom was absolutely beside herself with emotion. We had not been the type of family that grew up with pets, these were really our first, so it HURT like a motherf*cker to see our babies go. Like I said though, there was nothing to be done for the sweet thing. I got a great blue box and green tissue paper. I wrapped her in a shroud of fabric printed with brightly-colored owls, and laid her in the box, with two treats and a note, telling her how much she meant to us. Because it's true, she was a special sweet birdie.

We buried her the next night, next to her friend Beatrice. Now they can finally hang out again and eat lots of treats, and I couldn't be happier for the both of them. But still, I selfishly dwell on the void they left in our lives. Sadly, we'd look at the empty cage, and finally my mother asked me to take it down. It made her sad, and it made our cockatiel confused - he'd stare at it for hours wondering where she was. I dissembled it, and put it on the floor. My dad urged us to get more birds, but my mother and I just couldn't imagine other birds in the house. "It won't be the same" we said......

of course.
we. are suckers.

I went to FosterParrots, a shelter I've been volunteering at for a YEAR this month (where the HECK did that time go?) and I told the director, all the while digging my nails into my palm so I wouldn't get 'emotional.' His look was one of pure empathy. He is truly the king of all bird nerds, and I KNEW of all people, he would understand how I felt, especially since he has struggled to keep some of his favorite birds alive in the face of illness, abuse from other owners, and disability. He said "ohhh, oh nooo, Allison! I am so sorry. That's awful. Oh I'm sorry." He let me go on about the vet and the tumor and everything and let me go on about how I was here to sort of move on and stuff, but DID NOT WANT MORE BIRDS. He says 'ok, well just think about this. It's kind of funny. Someone found a bird in the bank parking lot YESTERDAY and she's so so sweet and needs a home" I said "well don't look at me, I can't take birds" The codirector took a different approach. She said "Volunteers are not allowed to have empty cages, take her, take a friend for her and get out of here." I thought about it while I was on my hands and knees cleaning bird crap off the floor and thought "please of course I want two more parakeets" and when I saw the little one I was supposed to take home, I thought "sweet jesus how can I say no?" There she was, petite, blue (the color of tanzanite, my mom says) with a little white face and big black eyes. 1,2,3 awwwwwwwwwwwwww! She was playing on the toys in the cage and looked pretty happy and healthy. Karen, the codirector, said "let's find her a friend, oh that guy looks good" as she pointed to a solitary yellow and lime green male. I was kinda like "whatev, maybe she should have another female friend....." That was left up in the air while I made a quick phone call to my mother. At first she said "nooooooooo, oh please noooooooo no more, I can't stand the heartbreak" I said "but MOM they need a good home, come ON" and she said quietly "you know you KNOW you can bring them home if they need to be adopted." Skipping back into the parrot shelter, Marc had a carrier ready for me, and brought it to the parakeet aviary to help me collect the new birds. He caught the female and put her in the carrier. "Let's get her a boyfriend" Marc said. His eyes wandered over a few birds, and then settled on the same yellow and lime green male that had been pointed out to me by Karen. He sat alone on a perch. He was robust and quite healthy looking, but was minding his own business. He looked like kind of a loner. Marc grabbed him and put him in the carrier......and out I went.

The birds were so good in the car. Beatrice and Ben were always very spazzy on car rides, but these two sat in the carrier and chirped every once in a while. They were so well behaved, I even hit up the Dunkin' Donuts drive through on the way home.

When I got home, I showed the newbies to my mom who just stared at them with love, saying "awwwwww!!!" every 7 seconds or so. I brought the case upstairs to my room, and held it in front of Lily. "Lily" I said, "these are going to be your new friends" "Hiiii birdie!!!" said Lily. SO sweet. so SMART! The birds contentedly preened each other while I prepared the old cage for them, scrubbing it clean of any lurking germs.

When we released the birds into the new cage, they sat there. And sat there some more. They were so cute though, we didn't need them to tricks or anything special. AND then.....the female, SPRANG into action, crazily grabbing each toy with her beak and flinging it around, crawling back and forth on the floor of her cage, jumping from place to place - she was CRAZY. Meanwhile the male sort of sat in the corner and was like "oh shit, what the HELL did I get myself INTO??"

That pretty much sums up their personalities. We're gonna call them Charlie Brown (Charlie for short) and Lucy. They're really perfect names that fit with their attitudes. Charlie sits on his perch, innocently minding his own business, oblivious to the WORLD. Lucy zooms around the cage. Charlie sits there with this "Please just leave me out of whatever insane thing you are doing right now" Lucy will sneak up behind him, clearly in attack mode. She'll open her mouth, and lean forward, ready to STRIKE. Sometimes she actually gets away with it too.....Often Charlie will just fly somewhere else for his alone time, but every once in a while, he'll be like 'I've HAD ENOUGH OF YOU!" and strike back.

Ahhhh....it's SO good to have parakeets in the house again :)

drunken blogging

I wish I were here right now having sex with Jamaal (boyfriend):




Goog God, I'm drunk. Good Night, Love, ME

boobs!!!!!11

Xcalibur: I want to put your boob in my mouth
wildorchid: wow
wildorchid: my boss was just sitting right here
wildorchid:AHAHAHHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA
wildorchid: good thing I didn't open this screen
my boob. approximately.

she had SEVEN people looking at her, but still

Playing a game on your blackberry with the volume turned up full blast for 45 minutes straight during an early morning bus ride and ignoring the seven people giving you dirty looks because they are either quietly reading or trying to sleep. dumb twat.

I got soul, but I'm not a soldier

Xcalibur: you make me so happy
wildorchid: you make me so happy
Xcalibur: good
wildorchid: good

not always, but sometimes, I guess it's just that easy.

publishing is just grand

The office of another friend who is a victim of workplace oppression but gets to work amongst the books all day. Lovely.