I've had enough.

I've actually had to stop reading the news. It's just too awful to think that everything in New Orleans is underwater or simply gone. As I was telling Tim earlier today, my heart weeps for the Garden District. It's selfish, I know, not to be as torn up about the other parts of town, but I don't think anything has to make sense right now. I find myself thinking the strangest things, like wishing that I had taken more pictures when Chris and I were there in January. I'll never forget when we were sitting in that cozy little jazz bar on Bourbon, getting progressively drunker on Abita beer, and they played "It Had To Be You." It was pouring big, heavy, Southern rain outside, and the only time we braved it that night was to dart next door and back to grab a quick hurricane because the Abita wasn't working fast enough. They had the heater on in the bar, possibly to compensate for the fact that all the doors and windows were open to let the music out; the humidity clung to everything, a pleasantly smothering sensation.

The next morning, we dragged ass down to Cafe du Monde, because it's what's done. Just as we were tucking into our evilly sugared beignets, the sax player standing on the sidewalk played "It Had To Be You." We laughed, and everything felt right. Everything felt right before, and everything has felt right since, but at that moment, it was tangible.

I'm glad I got to show Chris the houses, and cemeteries, and 300-year-old grime, and a city with a living, breathing soul made up of voodoo and whorehouses and cathedrals and oak trees. I just hope that someday, I can go back and see something of the city I remember.

Summer of Dave 2005 pictures

I encourage you to check out some of the cool photos from this year's Summer of Dave. They have been thoughtfully posted by my wonderful boyfriend and you can find them here. Also be sure to check out Brian's crazy body double.

TinyHouse Update

My house is so small...


"HOW SMALL IS IT?"




My house is so small that I can vacuum the whole thing from one plug.

That is all.

Most tiring fun weekend ever.

This weekend, I felt that I had to outdo my friends in Florida who were busy enjoying all the hustle, bustle, and adventure that a hurricane brings. So we hit up a Dave Matthews Band show in Chula Vista on Thursday, and followed it up by another one on Saturday in beautiful Carson. We had a fantastic time, and as previously mentioned, partied like rock stars. The tailgating was so extensive that when we came home, Chris had to go out to the garage to "recycle the trunk." Good times, good times.

Now that Summer of Dave 2005 has drawn to a close, there's nothing to do but to look forward to Argentina. We bought our world map today in anticipation. Now that we're regularly going on trips together to other countries, it's about time. The idea is that we get a world map mounted on foamboard, and put pins in places where we've been. Chris gets one color for places he's been, I get another color for places I've been, and we use a third color for places we go together. It's an idea we got from Chris' cousin Becky, and it pretty much kicks ass. The only problem is that I refuse to overpay a framing store to do it, but the only foamboard that I've found is way too small for the map. I'll just have to get creative with an X-acto knife and packing tape, because I'm dying to have this thing up on the wall.

Whaaaaa??

I had the following exchange with a girl behind the counter at Giovanni's in Fullerton:

Me: "Can I please have some extra vinegar?"

Her: "You mean right now?"


........riiiiiiiiiiiight.

Anticipate delays.

I've been partying like a rock star since Thursday. No time for blogging, Dr. Jones.

Viva la Summer of Dave.

Christian says "You rock!"

Everyone who knows Funundrum, knows that Funundrum is really take-it-or-leave-it on the children situation. One notable exception is Keli's kid, Christian. I used to work with Keli at CubanCo. Cruises, and her kid is funny. He also answers to Fat Kid, but he's not fat. Just the tallest 3-year-old you've ever met. Here's just about the best picture I've ever seen of any kid ever. I can't stop laughing at it.

A public service announcement from Funundrum.

It doesn't matter if you're a size 2 or a size 22, ass crack sweat is nasty.

To the girl who was walking up the stairs in front of me at the gym, please: for the love of god, buy at least one pair of underwear. I will even give you $5 to buy a nice pair from Victoria's Secret. Well, they're only $5 each if you buy 5, but if you live in PB and look like you do, chances are you've got $25 to spend on underwear.

Somebody please explain.

Usually I don't have to stoop to watching live tv, as I have everything Tivo'd for me. But, alas, not a whole lot recorded today, so live tv it was.

Anyway, can anyone explain to me why KFC (for those of you old enough to remember, this stands for Kentucky Fried Chicken, but they had to change it because the meat they use isn't really chicken but you only believe that if you're totally crazy) is using "Sweet Home Alabama" in all their ads?

It pisses me off every single time.

Inconsiderate should not equal reasonable.

I just spent the commute home steeling myself for another admonishing conversation with my inconsiderate neighbors, Jeff and Heidi. They keep putting non-recyclable stuff in the recycling bin, resulting in the recycling truck not taking it away. I went over there to offer to help Jeffty to empty it, so I could point out the large, raised, caps, sans serif print on the bin that outlines what you can and can't recycle. He took all blame and offered to do it by himself. Then he apologized.

How can such inconsiderate idiots be so conciliatory and respectful? It's only when I actually confront them with something -- otherwise, it's banging around and shrieking at 2am. Anyway, I was just rewarded with the sweet, sweet sound of the two of them hefting the bin into the dumpster in the alley.

Now, I just have to figure out how to get them to behave like polite adults without having to remind them once or twice a week.

Key Overheard Quotes:

Jeffty Jeff: "That wasn't so bad."
Heidi: "Now my hands feel all icky."

Body Double Alert!

Bad Copy of the Day Award

Both of these descriptions are about LASIK, and qualify as perhaps the most squirm-inducing copy to ever win the BCD award.

"The laser focuses and refocuses on your eye 4000 times per second. Remember the Gulf War when we watched a missile fly down a chimney? The laser uses the very same technology to most precisely focus the treatment on your cornea."

"The Ladar Vision 4000 uses a flying spot technique. In each treatment spot there is a little plume of smoke if you would, technically, Argon Fluoride Gas. This little puff of smoke can interfere with the next treatment spot."

We're declaring war on myopia, people.

Darwin Award contender alert.

As seen on the corner of Cass and Diamond: A woman, riding her bike, holding her four-year-old daughter on her hip. You heard me.

Now, the woman would probably survive any untoward incident. However, she would be eligible for a Darwin Award in the event that she negated herself from the gene pool by killing her child.

Keep dreaming that impossible dream, lady. Reach for the stars.

Why I love Australia # 746

Since I inherited Jesse's speakers (I'll miss you, but thanks, man) I was listening to Triple J at work. The morning guys were talking about Madonna's accident. "It could have been a lot worse," one of them said. "I mean, that's how Christopher Reeve got hurt. Although, imagine how inspiring it would be! She would be out there on stage, in her chair, with the pointy bra on, and she, I mean, she couldn't gyrate much any more, just from the neck up, but maybe her headset could be set up to send verbal commands to her chair so she could still kind of, you know, roll around with her dancers."

All hail Google.

Four months after I started this little blog, I am finally listed on Google. Go ahead, try it. Google "funundrum," and I'm the #2 entry, once you take away the crap ebay and lycos fake results. The #1 result is for a band who has an album called Funundrum, so I'll give them that.

I'm still not as cool as my friend Craig, who is still the only person I know that comes up as #1 under his name.

Update: I'm no longer #2, at least all the time. It seems to fluctuate. If you are geeky, you know this is all part of the Dance. Unfortunately, I am too lazy to learn how to SEO my own site.

I did not smile.

As I was waiting at the stoplight, I watched the guy on his ultra-expensive-looking bike ride down the sidewalk towards me, and I did not smile.

When I looked for, and found, his yellow "I support people with one ball" bracelet, I did not smile.

As he slowly came to a halt, so he could cross the street in front of me, I still did not smile.

For the duration of the eternity that it took him to cleanly fall over on his left side, into a towering bougainvillea bush, I did not smile.

Mercifully, the light turned green about the time that he picked himself up out of the foliage.

Then, I smiled.

Jeffty Jeff gets a gold star today!

My duplex neighbor, who moved in in June, just took the trash cans out to the alley for the very first time. They grow up so quickly, don't they? I got a little teary-eyed to see him -- he was so proud to do it all by himself. Way to go, Jeff!

You'd think it would have been Tang.

This story didn't just happen yesterday, nor the day before that. It may have been when I was a little girl, or shortly before I was born. It doesn't really matter, and I've always been taught not to let the facts get in the way of a good story.

My dad used to have a can of Pepsi with the space shuttle on it. He liked it, and thought it was pretty neat. He wanted to hang on to it because, hey, it might be worth something to someone someday.

Mom didn't think as much of the can, or its collectable properties. She just saw an old can of Pepsi. The debate went back and forth for decades, maybe even months, and dad finally gave up and opened the Pepsi. He may have even drank the Pepsi. Again, this story is such an apocryphal chestnut that it could really go either way. After he cracked the top on that sucker, he was finally on equal footing with mom. Now they both saw a worthless old can. So that was that.

Come on back to the present day. They were over at TinyHouse, and I was showing them the finer points of eBay. On a whim, I looked up that old can.



Turns out that NASA history can be yours, for the low low price of $6.99, plus shipping.

Update: All the space shuttle Pepsi cans available on eBay are empty. I'm assuming that this means a full can would go for, oh, 10-15 thousand dollars. Dad, you are thus far vindicated.

Best onramp picture ever.

When I was on my way to Kenny's birthday party a couple of weeks ago, I saw this by the side of the onramp, and caught the picture. It just makes me happy.

Virgin Atlantic Understands Me.

I know this is what their marketing people want me to think, but I've always somewhat desperately wanted to be as cool as Virgin Atlantic. Until today, I've never had an accurate way to measure up. Fortunately, Virgin provides. Witness the "11 Commandments of a Jetrosexual."

By my estimation, I'm already pulling 9 of 11 possible commandments here. Now, I admit, I don't travel economy to keep myself humble, but I'm sure the means justify the ends.

What's that? Oh. Schipol Airport. In Amsterdam. Because of the sweet reclining sleepy chairs, especially the ones back in the quiet alcove by the chapel. Shhh. Don't tell anyone. My second favorite (second only because it's kind of an evil, dark secret) is Heathrow. It's an awe-inspiring experience, during which you feel as though you're enduring some sort of communal rite of passage, akin to walking on coals at a bad corporate retreat. But better.

Chris' favorite is Burbank, "because you get to feel like the Beatles." Good enough for me.

Can we fit this story into a Successories poster?

Our company picnic is tomorrow. It should be pretty cool. The accounts of last year's picnic affirm the probable presence of beer, food, and lack of management-induced mingling. It's going to be pretty close to my house, and Chris is even going to manage to crash it because he's got a half day as well. (Let's hear it for system upgrades.)

The one thing that my employer was going to bone up about it is the same thing that they always bone up. They were requiring that we wear regular business attire until the closing bell for the day. Now, let's set aside for one minute the sheer morale-plunging properties of this proclamation, and do some basic math. The picnic starts at 1 pm. We are "allowed" to leave work at 12:30. It's a 20 minute drive-- add in traffic lights and parking, and there's your time. Fine. Now, we've got 70 employees in our building alone. Assuming that we all have enough modesty and dignity to use a bathroom stall to change clothes in (and we don't), that's 14 sets of turnover. Allow 3 minutes for each person to change clothes, hire Mussolini to keep everything moving, and you've already got a 45 minute mess.

Obviously, in a move that is totally uncharacteristic for them, management did not think this one through.

But, at 4:59 this afternoon, they redeemed themselves entirely and said that we could wear whatever we want. The bunch of snarky smart-ass writers that I work with immediately started announcing our various wardrobe choices for tomorrow, including "tube top," "pirate shirt," and "showgirl costume."

So the bosses got it right, for which I am most grateful. When word came down, there was a general gleeful hoopla. Mid-whoop, I caught Jesse's eye. We both realized, in an instant, how sad it is to find so much elation in a t-shirt. But I'll try to ride out the wave of joie de vivre until tomorrow afternoon.

Bumper sticker of the day.

If I have to explain it to you, it's not worth it. If you get it, you're peeing a little right now.

You can buy them at www.goats.com, along with some other fantastic stuff. I'm actually considering slapping one of these on the Blue Death Arrow.

Swap Meet Fun.

Yesterday, we were walking around the Swap Meet. It was pleasantly hot, as long as you kept moving, and there was a fantastic assortment of crap. We tend to skip past the "fell off the back of a truck" stalls, because the "garage sale" type people are far more interesting.

At one point, Chris stopped me, and pointed out the best item ever. It was lying there, on a manky blanket, surrounded by small piles of sunbaked tchotchkes, being presided over by an uncomfortably hot looking woman:

TIMMAY!!!

Shibbeledeh. This is Tim, my other best friend. I have failed to post a picture of him so far, because as mentioned in my previous post, I suck. If Timmy has a better picture that he would like me to post, he is free to send it. This one was taken at the Everglades Holiday Park. If you're ever in south Florida, looking to embrace a hot and humid summer day, head on down to the Holiday Park, buy an airboat ticket and a tall can of Coors Light, and pretend you have fewer teeth than you do. I will post pictures of gators and stuff at a later date, when I'm out of material.


And before I get in any more trouble, here's Nathan, Efrain, and Tim. Next I will need pictures of Aidy and Rob. I will hide the whois, I promise.

I suck.

It has been pointed out by Chimptastic that I have yet again failed in my photo posting responsibilities. I assure Tim, and everyone else, that I don't do this on purpose. All of you live in photos in my heart.

Attention.

It is nap time.

That is all.

Tattletales: Not Just Kids Any More

I am such a good citizen. I care about the community I live in, and I don't like to see our precious resources wasted. I also like getting people in trouble. This is why I just took the time to call the San Diego water department to report that the hotel across the alley from us has a constant water leak. It's causing a pretty gnarly pothole, and it's generally just gross, especially when I'm walking through there in heels.

The thing is, when Tanequa took my call, she didn't really take too much information regarding the location of the leak. They're just going to send some poor guy out with pertinent details like an address and the note "water leak."

I'm pretty sure this is why the city is facing bankruptcy.

Harry Potter is so great.

I'm really glad I decided to finish the book tonight, when Chris is away at his saxomophone rehearsal, because I cried like an idiot.

To those critics who say that these books will not stand the test of time -- you are so wrong. People will be reading about Harry Potter a hundred years from now, and longer. You've now read it on the internet, so it must be true.






Come on, book 7.

Score!

When we were walking into the grocery store today, Chris found a $20 bill on the ground. Just like that. He did indulge in a few rounds of the traditional "Finders Keepers" taunt, but I'd say that's pretty valid.

SEOetry.

Jesse just introduced me to a wonderful new iteration of the acrostic, known as SEOetry. All you do is take a big ol' block of juicy copy that's been SEO'd to within an inch of its life, and then string together the first word of each line. He then forwarded me a couple of his favorites, and I tried one from the doc I had open at the time. Here we go, Jesse's two SEOems first:

In cannula moves cannula
Decreasing shrink or Dr.
As innovative cities United experience of procedure
Breast magazines
Plastic reduction Portsmouth

Even industrial Phoenix aspect
Extent critical burns for they are disabled
Are as catastrophic Phoenix
Our importance
Law cases if contact

And my first attempt:

Cosmetic
That not orthodontics
Option the effects
Porcelain application dental then appearance stain
Stephen to maintain

...I assure you, it's a lot funnier when you've been jamming cosmetic dentistry terms into poorly written copy all day.

Value-added stalking.

I was on the offramp today, coming home, when this guy totally cut me off. It was that really irritating kind of cutoff too, the one where you've been creeping forward for the last half mile, then, at the last second before the ramp veers off, Mr. Tool cuts in front of you.

He didn't put me in danger of crashing my car or anything, so I completely let it go. A couple of blocks later, as I was turning off the main drag into my neighborhood, I found myself behind him again. Now, I've seen this car before -- I recognize it from the completely retarded license plate that's advertising his useless small business -- and I know he lives very close to me. The beautiful and effortless result of this is that I tailed him for what must have seemed like forever to him. Coincidence = possible stalker.

So anyway, with no additional effort on my part, I managed to freak this guy out, because he passed a perfectly good spot in the area where he usually parks, and instead went around the block.

It is the small things that bring me joy.