Thursday, February 26, 2004
Shut up
OK, fine. Yes, I cried last night at the finale of The Bachelorette. I'm not proud of it, but I did. I couldn't help it! Meredith and Ian's moment just seemed so genuine, unlike most other Bachelor/ette proposals, which sound like they're being read from the script of a DeBeers commercial. Call me crazy, but I really think these two kids are going to make it. And not in the Trista & Ryan "Sure, we'll be in love if it'll guarantee us another 15 minutes of fame" sense. In the real, true, not-paid-for-and-scripted-by-ABC sense. So what if that makes me a little teary? You probably cried, too.
OK, fine. Yes, I cried last night at the finale of The Bachelorette. I'm not proud of it, but I did. I couldn't help it! Meredith and Ian's moment just seemed so genuine, unlike most other Bachelor/ette proposals, which sound like they're being read from the script of a DeBeers commercial. Call me crazy, but I really think these two kids are going to make it. And not in the Trista & Ryan "Sure, we'll be in love if it'll guarantee us another 15 minutes of fame" sense. In the real, true, not-paid-for-and-scripted-by-ABC sense. So what if that makes me a little teary? You probably cried, too.
Wednesday, February 25, 2004
...Or not
The evil Target card continues to inflict its misery upon me. I just signed on to view my electronic statement and bask in the glory of my $0 balance. And even though my online account has registered the fact that I paid off the card and does in fact show a $0 balance, it still says I have a minimum payment of $20 due. I swear to God, if I somehow get a $25 late fee for not making a payment that I don't actually have to make, it is not going to be pretty. Damn you, evil Target card!
Speaking of evil, last night was further proof that the ANTM Alliance is better served when I'm out of town. The evil Camille somehow managed not to do anything evil this week and was allowed to stay on the show. Plus, the spirit of Catie somehow came back and infiltrated nearly everyone on the show, turning them all into big crybabies (including Tyra, who started weeping when she realized how much fun everyone would make of her upon witnessing her music video, but excluding Camille, who I'm starting to think might actually be a cyborg, and Janice Dickinson, who is most definitely a cyborg).
In other news, I think I might be in love with Jon Peter Lewis (aka the Pen Salesman) from American Idol. He's just so adorably clueless. Plus, he's kind of like the poor man's Chad Michael Murray. While it's true that I'd much rather have the real Chad Michael Murray, sometimes it's good to set more realistic goals. While I don't think JPL has a chance in hell to win American Idol, I think he could be a viable contender on America's Next Top Clare's Boyfriend.
The evil Target card continues to inflict its misery upon me. I just signed on to view my electronic statement and bask in the glory of my $0 balance. And even though my online account has registered the fact that I paid off the card and does in fact show a $0 balance, it still says I have a minimum payment of $20 due. I swear to God, if I somehow get a $25 late fee for not making a payment that I don't actually have to make, it is not going to be pretty. Damn you, evil Target card!
Speaking of evil, last night was further proof that the ANTM Alliance is better served when I'm out of town. The evil Camille somehow managed not to do anything evil this week and was allowed to stay on the show. Plus, the spirit of Catie somehow came back and infiltrated nearly everyone on the show, turning them all into big crybabies (including Tyra, who started weeping when she realized how much fun everyone would make of her upon witnessing her music video, but excluding Camille, who I'm starting to think might actually be a cyborg, and Janice Dickinson, who is most definitely a cyborg).
In other news, I think I might be in love with Jon Peter Lewis (aka the Pen Salesman) from American Idol. He's just so adorably clueless. Plus, he's kind of like the poor man's Chad Michael Murray. While it's true that I'd much rather have the real Chad Michael Murray, sometimes it's good to set more realistic goals. While I don't think JPL has a chance in hell to win American Idol, I think he could be a viable contender on America's Next Top Clare's Boyfriend.
Tuesday, February 24, 2004
Free at last!
Finally, I have freed myself from the tyranny that is my Target card. For a year and a half, the Target card has been the bain of my existence. I always said I would never get specific store credit cards, and now, after my experience with the Target card, I know why.
I never meant to break my "no store credit cards" rule in the first place. In August of 2002, when I first moved to Birmingham, I went to Target to buy stuff for my new apartment. It was not until the cashier had rung up $150 worth of merchandise (including a very cumbersome bookshelf) that she informed me that she couldn't accept the starter checks from my brand-new bank account. Faced with the embarrassing possibility of having to ask them to put all the merchandise back, I did what any normal person would do. I applied for the offered Target card.
I didn't think it was a big deal--I reasoned that, when the first bill came, I would just pay off the balance. After all, I already had that money earmarked for the stuff I was buying. But you know how bills are--they take a long time to get there. So by the time the bill arrived, I had already spent the money on other things. So I just paid the minimum amount due.
Which wouldn't have been so bad if I hadn't continued to charge things on the Target card. But it's not like I was going on wild and crazy Target shopping sprees every week. I was buying things I needed! Like groceries! And, OK, a Swell by Cynthia Rowley bath pillow. The charging got really out of hand when I was unemployed--I maxed out the Target card several times. So when I got a job, I decided I was going to pay off the card once and for all. But that's easier said than done. It was just so tempting to use the Target card when I got in a financial pinch!
Finally, I had to resort to drastic measures. When I bought my car, I realized I was going to have to pay off my Target card to be able to afford my car payment. So, with all of my friends watching, I cut up the evil card. But the battle was not over yet. I still had to pay off the balance (not to mention fight the urge to call Target and tell them I lost my card and ask if they could send me a new one).
Since October, I have been making small strides toward my goal. However, when my tax refund came, I decided I would do the responsible thing and use part of it to pay off my Target card balance, which I did just this morning. And now, at long last, I am free from the evil clutches of the Target card. And I am never, EVER getting another store-specific credit card again. Even if it means having to tell them to put the merchandise back on the shelf.
Finally, I have freed myself from the tyranny that is my Target card. For a year and a half, the Target card has been the bain of my existence. I always said I would never get specific store credit cards, and now, after my experience with the Target card, I know why.
I never meant to break my "no store credit cards" rule in the first place. In August of 2002, when I first moved to Birmingham, I went to Target to buy stuff for my new apartment. It was not until the cashier had rung up $150 worth of merchandise (including a very cumbersome bookshelf) that she informed me that she couldn't accept the starter checks from my brand-new bank account. Faced with the embarrassing possibility of having to ask them to put all the merchandise back, I did what any normal person would do. I applied for the offered Target card.
I didn't think it was a big deal--I reasoned that, when the first bill came, I would just pay off the balance. After all, I already had that money earmarked for the stuff I was buying. But you know how bills are--they take a long time to get there. So by the time the bill arrived, I had already spent the money on other things. So I just paid the minimum amount due.
Which wouldn't have been so bad if I hadn't continued to charge things on the Target card. But it's not like I was going on wild and crazy Target shopping sprees every week. I was buying things I needed! Like groceries! And, OK, a Swell by Cynthia Rowley bath pillow. The charging got really out of hand when I was unemployed--I maxed out the Target card several times. So when I got a job, I decided I was going to pay off the card once and for all. But that's easier said than done. It was just so tempting to use the Target card when I got in a financial pinch!
Finally, I had to resort to drastic measures. When I bought my car, I realized I was going to have to pay off my Target card to be able to afford my car payment. So, with all of my friends watching, I cut up the evil card. But the battle was not over yet. I still had to pay off the balance (not to mention fight the urge to call Target and tell them I lost my card and ask if they could send me a new one).
Since October, I have been making small strides toward my goal. However, when my tax refund came, I decided I would do the responsible thing and use part of it to pay off my Target card balance, which I did just this morning. And now, at long last, I am free from the evil clutches of the Target card. And I am never, EVER getting another store-specific credit card again. Even if it means having to tell them to put the merchandise back on the shelf.
Monday, February 23, 2004
It's the most wonderful time of the year
While grocery shopping at Target on Saturday, I noticed, to my extreme delight, that the Valentine's candy has been replaced with the far-superior Easter candy. This means, for a limited time, the shelves will be stocked with the most perfect candy ever created: the Cadbury Egg.
You know, I used to say that Fourth of July was my favorite holiday (it being pretty much the only holiday that incorporates beer), but I made this decision hastily and without considering the Cadbury Egg. Now I think I have to say that Easter is unequivocally my favorite holiday. In addition to the obvious Cadbury benefits, it falls in spring, my favorite season. When I was little, I got to get a new dress every Easter. (Sometimes I still buy myself a new dress at Easter, just for the sake of tradition.) Plus, the mascots for Easter are cute baby animals--bunnies, chicks, etc. How can you not love a holiday that incorporates new clothes, cute baby animals and chocolate?
Of course, during this time of celebration, it is important to keep in mind the religious implications of the holiday. It's like it says in the Bible: For God so loved the world that he gave his only Son so we might all have the freedom to enjoy creamy milk chocolate eggs with sugary fondant centers.
That's the way it goes in my version of the Bible, at least.
While grocery shopping at Target on Saturday, I noticed, to my extreme delight, that the Valentine's candy has been replaced with the far-superior Easter candy. This means, for a limited time, the shelves will be stocked with the most perfect candy ever created: the Cadbury Egg.
You know, I used to say that Fourth of July was my favorite holiday (it being pretty much the only holiday that incorporates beer), but I made this decision hastily and without considering the Cadbury Egg. Now I think I have to say that Easter is unequivocally my favorite holiday. In addition to the obvious Cadbury benefits, it falls in spring, my favorite season. When I was little, I got to get a new dress every Easter. (Sometimes I still buy myself a new dress at Easter, just for the sake of tradition.) Plus, the mascots for Easter are cute baby animals--bunnies, chicks, etc. How can you not love a holiday that incorporates new clothes, cute baby animals and chocolate?
Of course, during this time of celebration, it is important to keep in mind the religious implications of the holiday. It's like it says in the Bible: For God so loved the world that he gave his only Son so we might all have the freedom to enjoy creamy milk chocolate eggs with sugary fondant centers.
That's the way it goes in my version of the Bible, at least.
Friday, February 13, 2004
My funny valentines
Yesterday was a bad day. As in "the cover photos for a magazine that goes into production next week still aren't here yet and I'm leaving for a trade show in Orlando on Sunday, leaving our spelling-challenged intern here next week to see two magazines through production by herself" kind of bad.
So when I got home, I thought, "This would be a really good day to get something nice in the mail." You can imagine my delight, then, when I discovered that I had gotten not one but two pieces of Very Special Mail.
One was a valentine/fan letter from Mr. Alexander, and one was a package from my parents that contained, among other things, a marabou-trimmed pen and two boxes of Girl Scout cookies.
Suddenly, the day was not so bad. Valentines are awesome, especially when they're sent to you by someone who is so crushworthy. And Girl Scout cookies are awesome, too, no matter who sends them.
Yesterday was a bad day. As in "the cover photos for a magazine that goes into production next week still aren't here yet and I'm leaving for a trade show in Orlando on Sunday, leaving our spelling-challenged intern here next week to see two magazines through production by herself" kind of bad.
So when I got home, I thought, "This would be a really good day to get something nice in the mail." You can imagine my delight, then, when I discovered that I had gotten not one but two pieces of Very Special Mail.
One was a valentine/fan letter from Mr. Alexander, and one was a package from my parents that contained, among other things, a marabou-trimmed pen and two boxes of Girl Scout cookies.
Suddenly, the day was not so bad. Valentines are awesome, especially when they're sent to you by someone who is so crushworthy. And Girl Scout cookies are awesome, too, no matter who sends them.
Wednesday, February 11, 2004
That sound you hear? Is John Lennon rolling over in his grave.
Perhaps it's a sign of Adrian's influence on me. Usually, I don't experience the kind of severe emotional trauma he does when hearing a cover of a Beatles song (or of a song done by one or more individual Beatles, as the case may be). In fact, I thought Sarah McLachlan's cover of "Blackbird" was quite lovely, and I really didn't mind Fiona Apple's cover of "Across the Universe" all that much. But I'm sorry, I simply cannot abide American Idol contestant Jennifer Hudson's showy cover of "Imagine." The power of that song lies in its honesty and simplicity, and Jennifer's exaggerated facial expressions and vocal gymnastics just ruined it. You better watch it, missy! Another stunt like that could land you on the T.I.R.E. List.
And another thing: If contestants are going to do Beatles songs, I suggest that they choose one that has a little more shock value. For instance, how about "Happiness Is a Warm Gun?" I agree with Simon -- the song choices so far this year have been way too bland. These contestants need to get out of the little Bette Midler/O-Town bubble they're living in. So with that in mind, I bring you the top five songs I'd like to see covered on American Idol.
Number 5: "Closer," by Nine Inch Nails. Neil Sedaka, my ass. What this show really needs is Trent Reznor as a guest judge.
Number 4: "Army," by Ben Folds Five. Especially if whoever's singing it dedicates it to Josh Gracin beforehand.
Number 3: "Mother, Mother," by Tracy Bonham. Judging by last week's footage of the grueling Hollywood auditions, I doubt it would be very hard for many of the contestants to get up on stage and scream, "I'm hungry! I'm dirty! I'm losing my mind, everything's fine!" Particularly since many of their singing styles seem to be nothing more than glorified yelling anyway.
Number 2: "Creep," by Radiohead. I feel the lyric "What the hell am I doing here? I don't belong here" would be particularly apt for some contestants.
And the Number 1 song I would most like to see covered on American Idol is: "Subdivision," by Ani DiFranco. I would love to see the looks on the judges' faces (well, on Simon's and Randy's; I doubt Paula would understand the song) when a contestant gets up on stage and sings, "We're led by denial like lambs to the slaughter, serving empires of style and carbonated sugar water." Oops! There goes that Coca-Cola endorsement deal!
Perhaps it's a sign of Adrian's influence on me. Usually, I don't experience the kind of severe emotional trauma he does when hearing a cover of a Beatles song (or of a song done by one or more individual Beatles, as the case may be). In fact, I thought Sarah McLachlan's cover of "Blackbird" was quite lovely, and I really didn't mind Fiona Apple's cover of "Across the Universe" all that much. But I'm sorry, I simply cannot abide American Idol contestant Jennifer Hudson's showy cover of "Imagine." The power of that song lies in its honesty and simplicity, and Jennifer's exaggerated facial expressions and vocal gymnastics just ruined it. You better watch it, missy! Another stunt like that could land you on the T.I.R.E. List.
And another thing: If contestants are going to do Beatles songs, I suggest that they choose one that has a little more shock value. For instance, how about "Happiness Is a Warm Gun?" I agree with Simon -- the song choices so far this year have been way too bland. These contestants need to get out of the little Bette Midler/O-Town bubble they're living in. So with that in mind, I bring you the top five songs I'd like to see covered on American Idol.
Number 5: "Closer," by Nine Inch Nails. Neil Sedaka, my ass. What this show really needs is Trent Reznor as a guest judge.
Number 4: "Army," by Ben Folds Five. Especially if whoever's singing it dedicates it to Josh Gracin beforehand.
Number 3: "Mother, Mother," by Tracy Bonham. Judging by last week's footage of the grueling Hollywood auditions, I doubt it would be very hard for many of the contestants to get up on stage and scream, "I'm hungry! I'm dirty! I'm losing my mind, everything's fine!" Particularly since many of their singing styles seem to be nothing more than glorified yelling anyway.
Number 2: "Creep," by Radiohead. I feel the lyric "What the hell am I doing here? I don't belong here" would be particularly apt for some contestants.
And the Number 1 song I would most like to see covered on American Idol is: "Subdivision," by Ani DiFranco. I would love to see the looks on the judges' faces (well, on Simon's and Randy's; I doubt Paula would understand the song) when a contestant gets up on stage and sings, "We're led by denial like lambs to the slaughter, serving empires of style and carbonated sugar water." Oops! There goes that Coca-Cola endorsement deal!
Monday, February 09, 2004
Love the lovely Web tax-filing thingie
So this year I decided it was time for me to finally grow up and be an adult and, instead of letting my dad prepare my tax return, do it myself. Hannah gave me the wonderful tip to use TurboTax, which I happened to have a discount for thanks to my brief stint at Pottery Barn.
I am now a big fan of TurboTax. It takes all the confusing mumbo-jumbo from the IRS forms and reformulates them into questions anyone (read: journalists not good at math) can understand. It was so easy! I only regret that I did not discover it sooner.
Of course, since my dad prepared my tax returns last year, I had to stop along the way and ask him some questions. Such as:
Me: Did you claim me as a dependent on your 2003 tax return?
Dad: I haven't done my 2003 tax return yet.
Me: Well, I have to check this box if you claimed me as a dependent. I'm not going to check the box, so don't claim me as a dependent.
Dad: OK, but I did claim you last year.
Me: That doesn't matter. This is for the 2003 return.
Dad: Last year was 2003!
Me: I know. But the return you filed last year, in 2003, was for 2002. This is for the 2003 return.
Then, several minutes later...
Me: Did I submit an Alabama income tax return last year?
Dad: No.
Me: Why not? It wants me to say why I didn't submit one.
Dad: Uh, I didn't think Alabama had an income tax.
Hmm. Perhaps things like this could be why I only got $68 back last year and somehow owed the state of Kentucky money even though I had not technically lived and/or worked there for several years. Thinking perhaps my dad could benefit from TurboTax (and get some use out of his new computer and Internet connection), I called him back to tell him this.
Me: Dad, you really should check out this Web site. It makes it so easy!
Dad: Clare, you have no idea how complicated taxes are!
Me: I know how complicated they are! I'm saying that the Web site makes it easier!
Dad: There is no way the Web site can know all the possible deductions.
Me: It goes through a lot of them!
Dad: It is not a Certified Professional Accountant.
OK, maybe not. But it only took me a couple of hours, and now I have $947 being deposited directly into my bank account, which is a far better outcome than last year's return, when I actually cried when I heard how little I was getting back and my dad tried to console me by saying, "Well, at least you don't have to pay anything!" Sometimes it's good being a grown-up.
So this year I decided it was time for me to finally grow up and be an adult and, instead of letting my dad prepare my tax return, do it myself. Hannah gave me the wonderful tip to use TurboTax, which I happened to have a discount for thanks to my brief stint at Pottery Barn.
I am now a big fan of TurboTax. It takes all the confusing mumbo-jumbo from the IRS forms and reformulates them into questions anyone (read: journalists not good at math) can understand. It was so easy! I only regret that I did not discover it sooner.
Of course, since my dad prepared my tax returns last year, I had to stop along the way and ask him some questions. Such as:
Me: Did you claim me as a dependent on your 2003 tax return?
Dad: I haven't done my 2003 tax return yet.
Me: Well, I have to check this box if you claimed me as a dependent. I'm not going to check the box, so don't claim me as a dependent.
Dad: OK, but I did claim you last year.
Me: That doesn't matter. This is for the 2003 return.
Dad: Last year was 2003!
Me: I know. But the return you filed last year, in 2003, was for 2002. This is for the 2003 return.
Then, several minutes later...
Me: Did I submit an Alabama income tax return last year?
Dad: No.
Me: Why not? It wants me to say why I didn't submit one.
Dad: Uh, I didn't think Alabama had an income tax.
Hmm. Perhaps things like this could be why I only got $68 back last year and somehow owed the state of Kentucky money even though I had not technically lived and/or worked there for several years. Thinking perhaps my dad could benefit from TurboTax (and get some use out of his new computer and Internet connection), I called him back to tell him this.
Me: Dad, you really should check out this Web site. It makes it so easy!
Dad: Clare, you have no idea how complicated taxes are!
Me: I know how complicated they are! I'm saying that the Web site makes it easier!
Dad: There is no way the Web site can know all the possible deductions.
Me: It goes through a lot of them!
Dad: It is not a Certified Professional Accountant.
OK, maybe not. But it only took me a couple of hours, and now I have $947 being deposited directly into my bank account, which is a far better outcome than last year's return, when I actually cried when I heard how little I was getting back and my dad tried to console me by saying, "Well, at least you don't have to pay anything!" Sometimes it's good being a grown-up.
Friday, February 06, 2004
An Alliance Update
I originally tried to post this as a comment on the Tyrant's blog, but apparently Haloscan won't let you post comments that are longer than 1,000 words (which is probably a good thing, since technically comments shouldn't really be that long). As I've said before, I absolutely to refuse to cut to fit anything (blogs, comments, etc.) that is not directly related to my job. So I am forced to turn my original comment into a regular post. Here goes:
I have been out of commission for the past couple of days, but I see the Blog Alliance carried on just fine without me. What a relief to come back and read on TWoP that Scooter Girl had in fact been eliminated from the competition! Praise the Lord!
The Alliance got off to a shaky start Tuesday night. I thought both Catie and SG would be eliminated, but alas, this was not to be. However, I was happy to see Kiira (who I can only assume was named by Christina Aguilera, Nelly or similar) ejected from American Idol, and I was also somewhat pleased with the decision to eliminate Jenascia from ANTM. She was starting to annoy me with her constant complaints about being short. I am certain Kiira and Jenascia would have ended up being our next targets anyway, so props to the judges of both shows for not making us deal with them.
Obviously, our efforts on ANTM will be focused solely on Catie this week. I'm beginning to think she might have the dark powers of Carmen Rasmusen on her side. As for AI3, my vote is definitely for Lisa the model. I'm shocked and amazed that she actually made it to the top 32. Last I saw her, she couldn't manage to get out one word of a song she didn't really write because she was too busy playing in the pool.
As for your other picks, I agree for the most part, except for Briana. I did hear her sing in her initial audition, and I think she has one of the best voices in the competition. She also seems to have a sarcastic streak, which I like. And how cool is it that there's an American Idol contestant called Bri, when my friend Bri was such a big behind-the-scenes influence on the Blog Alliance last year? (For the record, my friend Bri does not look like a 12-year-old boy, as the Bri on American Idol does.) Anyway, I think we should support and protect contestants named Bri. After all, we would probably support contestants named Clare or Teri (or Cynical Tyrant, should any be so named), unless they reached Scooter Girl levels of annoyance, in which case we would probably have our names legally changed to avoid any associations with them.
I originally tried to post this as a comment on the Tyrant's blog, but apparently Haloscan won't let you post comments that are longer than 1,000 words (which is probably a good thing, since technically comments shouldn't really be that long). As I've said before, I absolutely to refuse to cut to fit anything (blogs, comments, etc.) that is not directly related to my job. So I am forced to turn my original comment into a regular post. Here goes:
I have been out of commission for the past couple of days, but I see the Blog Alliance carried on just fine without me. What a relief to come back and read on TWoP that Scooter Girl had in fact been eliminated from the competition! Praise the Lord!
The Alliance got off to a shaky start Tuesday night. I thought both Catie and SG would be eliminated, but alas, this was not to be. However, I was happy to see Kiira (who I can only assume was named by Christina Aguilera, Nelly or similar) ejected from American Idol, and I was also somewhat pleased with the decision to eliminate Jenascia from ANTM. She was starting to annoy me with her constant complaints about being short. I am certain Kiira and Jenascia would have ended up being our next targets anyway, so props to the judges of both shows for not making us deal with them.
Obviously, our efforts on ANTM will be focused solely on Catie this week. I'm beginning to think she might have the dark powers of Carmen Rasmusen on her side. As for AI3, my vote is definitely for Lisa the model. I'm shocked and amazed that she actually made it to the top 32. Last I saw her, she couldn't manage to get out one word of a song she didn't really write because she was too busy playing in the pool.
As for your other picks, I agree for the most part, except for Briana. I did hear her sing in her initial audition, and I think she has one of the best voices in the competition. She also seems to have a sarcastic streak, which I like. And how cool is it that there's an American Idol contestant called Bri, when my friend Bri was such a big behind-the-scenes influence on the Blog Alliance last year? (For the record, my friend Bri does not look like a 12-year-old boy, as the Bri on American Idol does.) Anyway, I think we should support and protect contestants named Bri. After all, we would probably support contestants named Clare or Teri (or Cynical Tyrant, should any be so named), unless they reached Scooter Girl levels of annoyance, in which case we would probably have our names legally changed to avoid any associations with them.
I hope heaven has an IKEA
Yesterday was another one of those eventful travel experiences. Not as eventful as this one, thank God, but eventful nonetheless. It was a day of extreme highs and lows. As in, I got to eat my favorite sandwich (a Jimmy John's vegetarian sub, no cucumber) for the first time in almost two years, I made a pilgrimage to my personal mecca (IKEA) where I bought a duvet cover for $20, and I found a really awesome BXR-like radio station in Chicago that played Ani DiFranco and Lucinda Williams. But then I almost died.
Until I got on the plane yesterday evening to head home from my business trip, my day was going so swimmingly that I didn't even mind getting stuck in rush hour traffic on the way to the airport. I didn't mind having to fill up my rental car with gas on Cicero Avenue, amongst people of varying degrees of shadiness. I didn't even mind that my flight was delayed a little, because it looked like they were at least going to get us out of Chicago before the big snowstorm hit. Of course, I soon found out that taking off in the middle of an impending snowstorm is not exactly fun.
But as I would later find out, it's a piece of cake compared to landing during an impending tornado, which was what greeted me upon my return to Birmingham. I tried to ignore the extreme turbulence by distracting myself with the crossword puzzle in the in-flight magazine. But soon it was time to put the tray table up for our descent into Birmingham. By that time, the turbulence had gotten so bad anyway that I could barely hold on to the magazine, let alone put pen to paper in any sort of meaningful fashion.
Without the crossword puzzle to occupy my mind, there was nothing to do but sit there and contemplate the various scenarios of what I was certain was my impending death. This was a little less than comforting, so I decided to beseech God with the following prayer:
"God, please don't let me die. You know how long it has taken me to find an inexpensive duvet cover [nearly four years, for those of you reading who are not all-powerful dieties and are not familiar with my duvet-cover search]. Wouldn't it be sad if, having finally found this duvet cover, I was never able to put it on my bed? Not to mention the various other repercussions of dying in a fiery plane crash."
Shortly after I finished this prayer, the flight attendant came on the intercom to sing us a little song that went like this (I am not making this up):
"Here we go!
Here we go!
Flying through the air!
Flying through the air!
We jump and we bump and we twist and we twirl!
Your toes will curl and you'll want to hurl!
But don't throw up!
Or you'll have to clean it up!"
Several people clapped for the song. I shot a withering look toward the front of the cabin and wondered if the singing meant that things weren't that bad, or if things were SO bad that the flight attendant was trying to distract us with the singing.
I didn't have much time to wonder, because suddenly there was a large flash of light accompanied by a popping sound directly outside my window. Not really a bang (which would have caused me to wet myself), but definitely a loud pop, which caused me to jump and then grip my armrests in abject terror. Apparently the flash and loud popping noise did not have the same effect on the other passengers, most of whom started laughing. Laughing! I kid you not! Hello, people, this is not the freaking Fourth of July! Flashes and loud popping when you're 10,000 feet in the air does not equal fun and happy times for everyone, but rather impending doom!
Fortunately, the flash/popping sound didn't seem to have any adverse effect on the mechanics of the plane, but the turbulence continued and in fact seemed to worsen until the moment the wheels touched the runway. My horror also increased, as did the general mirth of the rest of the cabin. They seemed to think we were on some fun, Disneyland-esque ride. Perhaps they are unaware that rides at Disneyland generally do not end with a fiery plummet to your ultimate demise. At any rate, when the plane landed in Birmingham, I got the hell off of it as fast as I could. About half of the passengers stayed on to continue to Tampa. I was extremely glad Birmingham happened to be my final destination, because there's no way in hell I would have gone up in that plane again.
Alas, the journey ended on a good note. After I made my way home, I noticed that the trees outside my apartment are beginning to bud. Which means...spring will soon be here! So with the sandwich, the cheap duvet cover, the good radio, the not dying and the arrival of spring, the overall prognosis on this trip is good.
Thank you, God. My duvet thanks you, too.
Yesterday was another one of those eventful travel experiences. Not as eventful as this one, thank God, but eventful nonetheless. It was a day of extreme highs and lows. As in, I got to eat my favorite sandwich (a Jimmy John's vegetarian sub, no cucumber) for the first time in almost two years, I made a pilgrimage to my personal mecca (IKEA) where I bought a duvet cover for $20, and I found a really awesome BXR-like radio station in Chicago that played Ani DiFranco and Lucinda Williams. But then I almost died.
Until I got on the plane yesterday evening to head home from my business trip, my day was going so swimmingly that I didn't even mind getting stuck in rush hour traffic on the way to the airport. I didn't mind having to fill up my rental car with gas on Cicero Avenue, amongst people of varying degrees of shadiness. I didn't even mind that my flight was delayed a little, because it looked like they were at least going to get us out of Chicago before the big snowstorm hit. Of course, I soon found out that taking off in the middle of an impending snowstorm is not exactly fun.
But as I would later find out, it's a piece of cake compared to landing during an impending tornado, which was what greeted me upon my return to Birmingham. I tried to ignore the extreme turbulence by distracting myself with the crossword puzzle in the in-flight magazine. But soon it was time to put the tray table up for our descent into Birmingham. By that time, the turbulence had gotten so bad anyway that I could barely hold on to the magazine, let alone put pen to paper in any sort of meaningful fashion.
Without the crossword puzzle to occupy my mind, there was nothing to do but sit there and contemplate the various scenarios of what I was certain was my impending death. This was a little less than comforting, so I decided to beseech God with the following prayer:
"God, please don't let me die. You know how long it has taken me to find an inexpensive duvet cover [nearly four years, for those of you reading who are not all-powerful dieties and are not familiar with my duvet-cover search]. Wouldn't it be sad if, having finally found this duvet cover, I was never able to put it on my bed? Not to mention the various other repercussions of dying in a fiery plane crash."
Shortly after I finished this prayer, the flight attendant came on the intercom to sing us a little song that went like this (I am not making this up):
"Here we go!
Here we go!
Flying through the air!
Flying through the air!
We jump and we bump and we twist and we twirl!
Your toes will curl and you'll want to hurl!
But don't throw up!
Or you'll have to clean it up!"
Several people clapped for the song. I shot a withering look toward the front of the cabin and wondered if the singing meant that things weren't that bad, or if things were SO bad that the flight attendant was trying to distract us with the singing.
I didn't have much time to wonder, because suddenly there was a large flash of light accompanied by a popping sound directly outside my window. Not really a bang (which would have caused me to wet myself), but definitely a loud pop, which caused me to jump and then grip my armrests in abject terror. Apparently the flash and loud popping noise did not have the same effect on the other passengers, most of whom started laughing. Laughing! I kid you not! Hello, people, this is not the freaking Fourth of July! Flashes and loud popping when you're 10,000 feet in the air does not equal fun and happy times for everyone, but rather impending doom!
Fortunately, the flash/popping sound didn't seem to have any adverse effect on the mechanics of the plane, but the turbulence continued and in fact seemed to worsen until the moment the wheels touched the runway. My horror also increased, as did the general mirth of the rest of the cabin. They seemed to think we were on some fun, Disneyland-esque ride. Perhaps they are unaware that rides at Disneyland generally do not end with a fiery plummet to your ultimate demise. At any rate, when the plane landed in Birmingham, I got the hell off of it as fast as I could. About half of the passengers stayed on to continue to Tampa. I was extremely glad Birmingham happened to be my final destination, because there's no way in hell I would have gone up in that plane again.
Alas, the journey ended on a good note. After I made my way home, I noticed that the trees outside my apartment are beginning to bud. Which means...spring will soon be here! So with the sandwich, the cheap duvet cover, the good radio, the not dying and the arrival of spring, the overall prognosis on this trip is good.
Thank you, God. My duvet thanks you, too.
Tuesday, February 03, 2004
A New Alliance
As American Idol takes 2.5 years to get to the point where we actually get to call in and vote for contestants, another Powerful Blog Alliance has formed to weed out the losers from one of my other favorite reality shows, America's Next Top Model.
Actually, this is not a full-fledged alliance yet. It's basically just me, Kristin and the Tyrant deciding somewhat independently of each other that we all hate Catie. Will this be enough to get Catie booted off the show? I guess we'll find out tonight. If it works, we could have a brand-new, even more powerful Blog Alliance on our hands.
I just hope the power of this Blog Alliance will not be so potent as to cancel out the power of the original Blog Alliance. Because we need to get Scooter Girl out of American Idol. Now.
As American Idol takes 2.5 years to get to the point where we actually get to call in and vote for contestants, another Powerful Blog Alliance has formed to weed out the losers from one of my other favorite reality shows, America's Next Top Model.
Actually, this is not a full-fledged alliance yet. It's basically just me, Kristin and the Tyrant deciding somewhat independently of each other that we all hate Catie. Will this be enough to get Catie booted off the show? I guess we'll find out tonight. If it works, we could have a brand-new, even more powerful Blog Alliance on our hands.
I just hope the power of this Blog Alliance will not be so potent as to cancel out the power of the original Blog Alliance. Because we need to get Scooter Girl out of American Idol. Now.
Monday, February 02, 2004
An analysis of today's time allocation
70% Actually working
30% Listening to/reading about other people's opinions on the whole Justin Timberlake/Janet Jackson Super Bowl boob controversy.
Was it planned? Was it an accident? Who cares? Didn't we already do this like three years ago with Lil Kim? (Albeit not on live network television, but still.) Please. Pasties are so 2001. Just ask Dave Gustafson, who broke out the pasties for his 21st birthday party. Whoever thought Janet Jackson would one day be taking fashion cues from Gusto? Not I.
Here's something far more intriguing than Janet Jackson's breast. Last night to a Super Bowl party, I wore my one and only piece of Super Bowl paraphernalia, a 1992 Dallas Cowboys sweatshirt that I stole from my sister. (I used to have one of my own, but my mom accidentally turned it pink.) Anyway, I noticed last night that the sweatshirt touted the 1992 Super Bowl as Super Bowl 27 (or XXVII, if you want to get all Roman numeral about it). Yet, twelve years later, there I sat watching Super Bowl 38 (XXXVIII). Now, I'm no math whiz (that's why I went into journalism, after all), but it seems to me that there's a Super Bowl missing in there somewhere. Where did it go? Anyone?
UPDATE: I solved the mystery. Turns out the shirt was wrong. Super Bowl 27 was in 1993. Stupid shirt! It had my friends and me in a quandry all yesterday afternoon and made us think we're really bad at math (which we are, although not in this particular situation).
ANOTHER UPDATE: Upon further reflection, I realized that the 1992 on the shirt might be modifying "Dallas Cowboys" instead of "Super Bowl 27," which would make sense, since the 1992 Dallas Cowboys would be the ones playing in the 1993 Super Bowl. Still, it's a highly confusing and altogether stupid shirt. I guess this is what I get for stealing things from my sister.
70% Actually working
30% Listening to/reading about other people's opinions on the whole Justin Timberlake/Janet Jackson Super Bowl boob controversy.
Was it planned? Was it an accident? Who cares? Didn't we already do this like three years ago with Lil Kim? (Albeit not on live network television, but still.) Please. Pasties are so 2001. Just ask Dave Gustafson, who broke out the pasties for his 21st birthday party. Whoever thought Janet Jackson would one day be taking fashion cues from Gusto? Not I.
Here's something far more intriguing than Janet Jackson's breast. Last night to a Super Bowl party, I wore my one and only piece of Super Bowl paraphernalia, a 1992 Dallas Cowboys sweatshirt that I stole from my sister. (I used to have one of my own, but my mom accidentally turned it pink.) Anyway, I noticed last night that the sweatshirt touted the 1992 Super Bowl as Super Bowl 27 (or XXVII, if you want to get all Roman numeral about it). Yet, twelve years later, there I sat watching Super Bowl 38 (XXXVIII). Now, I'm no math whiz (that's why I went into journalism, after all), but it seems to me that there's a Super Bowl missing in there somewhere. Where did it go? Anyone?
UPDATE: I solved the mystery. Turns out the shirt was wrong. Super Bowl 27 was in 1993. Stupid shirt! It had my friends and me in a quandry all yesterday afternoon and made us think we're really bad at math (which we are, although not in this particular situation).
ANOTHER UPDATE: Upon further reflection, I realized that the 1992 on the shirt might be modifying "Dallas Cowboys" instead of "Super Bowl 27," which would make sense, since the 1992 Dallas Cowboys would be the ones playing in the 1993 Super Bowl. Still, it's a highly confusing and altogether stupid shirt. I guess this is what I get for stealing things from my sister.
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