The Low-Power Travel Update, Part Two

(I have managed to borrow a power supply from the nice ladies who run the B&B, so I'll try and blog until it's time to leave for the ferry. This is not exactly going according to plan.)

The conference went through Friday morning, but the sessions ended early on Thursday afternoon, so I had some time for sightseeing. Not that much time, and the weather was kind of lousy, so I decided to see the sights of Filene's Basement, land of discount fabulousness. I think it's important, when travelling, to take in the local cultural highlights. I went by the DSW around the corner too, just in case.

By the time I was done there it was time for dinner so, being in Boston, naturally I decided to go for Mexican. Yes, Mexican. Not as misguided as Chinese in Carlsbad, New Mexico, or as random as Swiss in Bali*, but still, what is it with me and inappropriate cuisine choices?

If you're interested, I had a decent but sub-Chevy's quality fajita with "guacamole" that was clearly from some kind of squeezebag and a margarita that made up for in tequila what it lacked in flavor.

You weren't interested, were you?




*This one doesn't really count, because I didn't pick it and I didn't actually eat anything, being as I was afflicted with a travel-related stomach illness. And let me tell you, there's nothing like tropical heat, an upset stomach and a table full of rich, greasy, northern European food. I tried to order some Indonesian noodles, but they came with a fried egg on top, so I just cut out early and went back to our rooms.



**Okay, now I really want to go to Chevy's. I need some of those chips and I need them now.

The Low-Power Travel Update, Part One

Another trip, another mad race through the airport (this time, barefoot) and another fancy hotel charging way too much for internet access. Which is why blogging is, yet again, delayed, with the added bonus that I'm actually prewriting my posts longhand because, while my lovely Cape Cod B&B (more on that later) does have free wireless, it does not have the power supply for my laptop, because I left that in the hotel room in Boston. Oops. So I'm doing my composition ahead of time to save battery.

Okay, now that that's out of the way: the trip. I'm assuming that no one is crying out for the details of the Protein Engineering Summit (Recombinant and Monoclonal Antibodies tracks) so I'll just say that the conference was fine and I did better than I expected at staying awake.

I will also say that I could really get used to this thing where someone else pays for you to stay in a fancy hotel. My room had a doorbell. (Why does a hotel room need a doorbell? I have no idea, but I had one.) It also had a flat-screen tv and a giant tub and a kind of window between the bedroom and the bathroom. Which struck me as kind of odd-- how often have you said, "I love this room, but I wish more people could see me pee?" But I warmed up to it when I realized you could see the tv from the tub, if you sat up a little bit. Which was important, because I had discovered BBC America on the cable.

Aside from luxuriating in my expensive hotel room and realizing that everyone in the world was working on single-chain Fvs, what I mostly did was eat seafood. I skipped the obvious steamed lobster, because that's not really something you eat sitting alone at a bar, but I did get some oysters. And some crab cakes. And, for lunch on Wednesday, a lobster roll. So I think I'm making some good progress on that one.

Noooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo


I can't accept it. I won't.


BattleDivas Forever!

The most compelling explaination of a faraday cage you will ever see

Also, a good reason not to complain about your job.



Holy crap.

The East Coast Travel Saga: Part Two

In Which Daisy Discovers the Value of Being Flexible, And Wonders if Perhaps She Should Have Taken Up Yoga


I am travelling to Boston next week, rather sooner than I had expected, as for some reason I had the trip pegged to the last week of the month, but no matter. Boston should be fun and the conference looks interesting, and I get to stay at a super-fancy hotel on my employer's dime (actually, several thousand of my employer's dimes) (not that they're actually reimbursing me in dimes) (I hope), all of which are distinct positives. And, since the conference ends on a Friday, and my plane ticket is paid for anyway, I thought I'd stay on through the weekend and see a bit of the city. Sounds like a good idea, right? Of course it does. Unfortunately, that weekend seems to be when about a third of Boston's eighty billion (approx.) college students graduate and rooms are somewhat scarce. Still I tried:

Me: "Hello, do you have any rooms for the nights of the 18th and 19th?"
Innkeeper: "No."

. . .

Me: "Hello, do you have any rooms for the nights of the 18th and 19th?"
Hotel Reception: "Ha! No."

. . .

Me: "Hello, do you--"
B&B Manager: "No."

. . .

Reservation Service: "We have a lovely apartment in Quincy for three hundred dollars a night."
Me: "Um, no."


Me (thinking): You know, there's no reason I absolutely have to be in Boston for those days... and I'm not crazy about doing my touristing in a sea of parents and grandparents, all cramming the same seven Revolutionary War sights into the same three days.
My Guidebook: Daily high-speed ferries run from Boston to Cape Cod.
Me: "Hmm."

. . .

Me: "Hello, do you have any rooms for the nights of the 18th and 19th?"
Cape Cod B&B Owner: "Why, yes."
Me: "Private bathroom?"
CCBBO: "Yes."
Me: "One block from the beach?"
CCBBO: "Yes."
Me: "Reasonable rate?"
CCBBO: "Yes."
Me: "I'll take it."
CCBBO: "Great. We'll pick you up at the ferry terminal."


So, anyway, I guess I'm going to spend a couple of days staring at the other ocean.

OSHA is going to want to have a chat with these guys

Honestly, I'm seeing, like, dozens of safety violations here.



(thanks go to David for this one)

Jen and Jake's Wedding

So, I was getting all set to do a complete and total writeup of the second part of my trip, to my cousin Jake's wedding in Baltimore, until I heard a little voice. And that voice said, "Who on earth, aside from your parents, who were there, would want to read a blow-by-blow account of your cousin's wedding?" And I had to admit it had a point. It also made me nervous for a minute there, until I realized I wasn't actually hearing voices, I was just inventing them for comic effect.

At any rate, here's my account of the Baltimore portion of my trip, abbreviated verson:

- East Coast crabs: tasty, but a lot of work. I think I still like dungeoness better, but that may just be locational bias.
- You can rent school buses to take your entire party out to dinner. Who knew? Also, less leg room than I remembered.
- There should be a special place in ettiquette hell for people who will come to a wedding (not their own) in a white dress, boot the grandfather of the groom out of his seat (because "we're close friends of the bride's mother") and chew gum all the way through the ceremony.
- Trees that have been chewed on by beavers look exactly like they do in the cartoons.
- There really is no upper limit on the amount of time you can spend watching four baby squirrels running around on (and into a hole in) a tree.
- "Plumping" lip gloss hurts like hell.
- If you want to see rock stars, stay at the Sheraton in Columbia, Maryland; it's right next to a concert venue. My parents saw My Chemical Romance leaving (the day before they cancelled several tour dates due to severe food poisoning), and while John Legend's presence was never actually confirmed, there was a giant bus parked outside and several equally giant bodyguards staking out the lobby.
- One should be careful when ordering soup in a strange place, on the chance that the potato-garlic is not, as one imagined, a hearty, creamy, flavorful dish, but rather the vegan option, with lumps of undercooked potato floating in "vegetable stock" (sadly, as vegetables are somewhat lacking in marrowbones, they make for a weak stock base). You will still be hungry, even if the bread is good, and you will be cranky for the rest of the day, until somebody gets you a cookie.
- On the other hand, you can get some pretty excellent sushi in suburban Maryland. Again, I say; who knew?

Thursday, Part Four: The Afterparty

Let's say you have approximately five hundred authors and assorted hangers-on in a room and you release them simulatneously. Let us further state that the building where they are being held also contains a bar. If you arrive at the bar approximately thirty minutes after the release, how long does it take you to get the attention of the bartender and convince him to make you your overpriced lemon drop? *(See below for answer.)

Preparties are fun, and banquets are where the business happens, but everyone knows that the real stuff goes down at the afterparty. That is, assuming you can manage to get yourself a drink before everybody goes to bed.

Our little clutch of revelers colonized a table in the middle of the restaurant (several tables pushed together, acutally, we weren't that little of a group) and stole chairs to squeeze around it and had a grand old time until, at some point after the Dutch dentists asked us to rate their friend's ass but before the fight broke out, the alcohol and the exhaustion caught up with me and I gave up and went to bed.

*Approximately seventeen minutes, at which point a man will walk up to the bar and be served immediately, causing you to say (perhaps not quite as far under your breath as you intended) "But I've been waiting here forever", and the bartender will finally notice you and serve you next, but you will be so embarassed that you will add an overlarge tip to your already rather expensive drink. Did you get it right?

Thursday, Part Three: The Edgar Awards

First, the bad news: Despite being entirely deserving and despite the fact that I not only clapped very hard but also said "whoo!" when her name was called, A Field of Darkness by Cornelia Read did not win the Best First Novel Edgar Award. But Cornelia said the guy who did win was good, so I guess that’s something.

The good news: Well, the food wasn’t bad. And by this point I was so far off my diet that I couldn’t even see it from there, so I went ahead and enjoyed. Also, I got to embarrass Karen by saying "Omigod, it’s Dave Barry" (in what I thought was a completely non-audible-to-him voice) as he walked by on his way to set up for the speech/roast he and Ridley Pearson were doing of Stephen King later in the evening. And the people at our table were nice, and everybody got an Edgar Allen Poe bobblehead to take home and the ceremony didn’t go on that long, even though there was no orchestra to play the recipients off the stage after their 4.8 seconds of speech time. And at the end of the evening they rolled out table after table of free books, and I took as many as my little Edgar Awards tote bag could hold, plus a couple more, because I have no shame when it comes to free books. And they were good books, too. I’ve already finished two.

Some Important Lessons

Never put on makeup while drunk.
Or fix your hair.
Or try and paint your nails.

Thursday, Part Three: The Preparty

Before the main festivities were to start in the evening, we were all invited to an unofficial preparty thrown by Cornelia’s friend Rae in her hotel room at the Four Seasons. Sharon and Jullain begged off, pleading travel- and tourism-based exhaustion but Karen and I both showed, the first to arrive and severely underdressed. Everyone else arrived in their clothes for the banquet, including Cornelia, who showed up in a very sharp tuxedo with a very complicated collar. We ate delicious appetizers and drank perhaps a bit too much champagne and I (pre-champagne) asked Sarah Weinman if the panels on her dress were see-through, which I meant as a compliment but realized later that it could be taken the wrong way. And somehow the conversation got around to telling stories of inappropriate content, none of which I will repeat here, except to say "Sparkles".

Afterwards, Karen and I made our way rather unsteadily to the subway station and from there back to my hotel to get ready.

Since I was staying at the banquet hotel, we had all agreed to meet in my room to dress, which gave me the added advantage of having three extra people to help me decide on my outfit. (We settled on the skirt with the beads and the black top, which unfortunately seems to make me look as wide as a house in the pictures but actually looked quite nice on. I hope.)

Thursday, Part Two: The Hunt

After lunch we split up, Cornelia and Freya to go back to their room and start getting ready, Karen, Sharon and Juliann to stop by Karen’s friend’s fabulous apartment and then get some rest and me to head off on a quest to the World’s Largest Macy’s.

This was no casual shopping trip; I was looking for an off-white silk camisole. You would think this would not be a difficult thing to find. You would think that, upon walking into the World’s Largest Macy’s, all you would need to do is to ask a friendly salesperson where the Basic Items of Clothing Department was, proceed directly there and ask them to direct you to the camisoles and then select your item for purchase. You would be wrong, but thanks for playing. What actually happens is that you wander from floor to floor, occasionally ending up in the Men’s store, asking alternately unhelpful, uninterested or clueless people with nametags, until a nice lady from the DKNY boutique takes you in hand and walks you over to Ralph Lauren, where you locate something that’s expensive and not quite right but you buy it anyway, because you’re running short of time, and then you don’t end up wearing that outfit anyway. But we’ll get to that later.

Thursday, Part One: The Group

Slept. Late, but not that late. Had time at least for a shower and a brief (but, sadly, failed) attempt to do something to my hair before Karen called and we agreed to meet up on our way to Cornelia’s. Had a little more time to stop at a Starbuck’s for a drinkable breakfast, because I walk fast.

Sociological Theory of the Day: Proposed: That New Yorkers do not jaywalk at any and all opportunities, including but not limited to when the light has just changed, when the light is just about to change, when the light may at some point change and when the oncoming traffic is far enough away not to hit them as long as they slow down, because of any outlaw spirit of the city but because with so many people to move so much of the time, the traffic must be maintained at the maximum possible flow or the entire system sill collapse. It’s one theory, anyway.

Cornelia, her sister Freya and her friend Heidi (not present) were staying at a very lovely and chic midtown hotel, the name of which escapes me for the moment but I’m pretty sure it begins with a W. Sharon (writing group) and Juliann (Sharon’s partner) were already there, and we all proceeded to badger Cornelia into a maximum state of nervousness by telling her she had nothing to be nervous about until it was time to go to lunch.

Lunch was at the Carnegie Deli, famous for being famous with the random celebrity pictures coating the walls to prove it. The dining rooms twisted around on themselves through the building and we got a cool little nook way up in back, along with a waiter who had some comprehension issues and framed photos of Florence Henderson, Roy Shneider (promo pic from Jaws), John Stevens (redheaded kid from American Idol a couple of years ago) and many, many others.

Sample conversation with the waiter:
Sharon: I’d like the chicken soup and a diet Pepsi.
Waiter: It’s only Coke.
Sharon: Okay, that’s fine.
Waiter: One Coke.
Sharon: Diet Coke.
Waiter: Diet?
Juliann: She can taste the difference.
Waiter: Okay, diet. But you still want the beef soup, right?
(Everybody laughs. Waiter does not laugh, looks confused. All assembled realize that perhaps he was not joking.)
Sharon: No, chicken soup.
Waiter: Okay, chicken soup.

I will say, though, my bagel and lox were delicious.

Wednesday: The Drowsy Tourist

Having survived, barely, my overnight flight, even getting a minimal amount of sleep, I made it into JFK just before dawn broke. After a couple false starts I managed to get myself on the right train, and only overshot my transfer station by two stops, but it was still a good two hours between the time my plane landed and when I finally staggered in the door of my hotel. Which I would shortly have to stagger out again, because hotels very rarely have rooms available for check-in at seven in the morning, but not before the very nice lady at the front desk gave me some toiletry items (toothbrush, toothpaste, mouthwash and deodorant), directed me to a bathroom where I could try to shape myself into something more resembling a human being and promised to call once a room became available. So I proceeded with my plan (see below), adding a visit to the Empire State Building and a stop by Penn station to buy my train ticket for Friday to the space between breakfast and ticket purchase.

Did you know that there is no line at all to go to the top of the Empire State Building at 8 am on a Wednesday? And there isn’t much of a crowd at the top either; you can linger as long as you like. Those are the good parts. The bad part is that they have taken down what interpretive signs there were, in a clear effort to force as many people as possible to pay for the ludicrously expensive "audio tour". It seems to be working.

The other point at which I deviated from my stated schedule was that I did not proceed directly from the TKTS booth to go shopping on 5th Avenue, I proceeded directly back to my hotel, because I had gotten the call that my room was ready and there was a bed and a shower in my future.

A couple hours later, moderately rested and refreshed, I emerged and made my way back down 42nd Street to Times Square and the theater. The show I had settled on was "The Drowsy Chaperone", which had just opened the last time I was here, and it sounded appealing. And, clearly, I was not the only person who thought so, though I may have been one of the youngest. The scene in the theater was incredible—old ladies as far as the eye can see. (Why do old ladies all have the same hair? Do I have to have that hair when I’m old? I really don’t want that hair.) The two previous plays I had seen in New York being Avenue Q and The 25th Annual Putnam County Spelling Bee, I wasn’t quite aware of the powerful attraction Broadway shows held for the elderly.

I enjoyed the show a lot; a combination of the charmingly frivolous and the sad. The conceit is that we are listening to a record of an old Broadway show from the twenties, with all the standard elements of romance, slapstick and comic misunderstanding. The narrator lives alone in his shabby apartment, divorced, almost certainly closeted with some clear mommy-issues, finding happiness only by putting on his records and locking out reality. Basically, it’s a non-escapist show about the joys of escapism. With some good songs.

After the play I did some shopping (largely window) up Fifth Avenue, eventually getting myself captured by the Yves Saint Laurent makeup lady at Bergdorf Goodman’s and spending way too much money on pretty makeup I didn’t need. And that was the end of my less-than-epic day of shopping in New York.

A Useful Travel Tip

It is generally a good idea to arrive at the airport more than fifteen minutes before your flight is due to leave.

Just FYI.

Regarding the Delay

Apologies for the belated blogging. Why is it that every Best Western, La Quinta and Motel 6 in America has free wireless internet in every room, but the New York Hyatt expects you to pay ten dollars a day and sit in the lobby? At any rate, here's what I would have been writing for the last week, if I wasn't too cheap to pay to get on the internet.

Presumed Schedule- Day 1

9:15 pm PST: Leave Oakland par avion, having taken sufficient Excedrin PM, wrapped myself in all available blankets/jackets, put on my eyemask and earplugs.

Next 5 hours: Time spent sleeping: 35 minutes. Time spent worrying about not getting enough sleep: 4 hours, 20 minutes. Earplug adjustment: 5 minutes.

5:25 am EST: Arrive JFK.

5:45 am: Collect baggage, or remains thereof, locate train.

6:18 am: Realize I took wrong train; am now in Queens, or possibly Pennsylvania.

7:00 am: Locate correct train, by random walk approach. Remember what it is I forgot to pack.

7:30ish: Arrive at hotel. Check in, change (in bathroom) out of homeless person costume/travelling clothes, leave bags at front desk.

8:00 am: Breakfast, possibly bagel-based. Try to think of something to do between now and when the stores open. Store bagel in purse for lunch.

10:00 am: Visit half-price ticket booth. Buy ticket to matinee of something (subject to availability).

10:30-2:00 pm: Shopping! (Well, looking, anyway. Maybe shopping.)

2:00 pm: Rush back, late, for show.

Third Act: Fall sound asleep.

5:00 pm: Woken by cleaning staff, removed from theater. Return to hotel to nap.

7:00 pm: Call Karen and/or Sharon, demand to be included in their evening plans.

8:00 pm: Eat takeout in hotel room, watching Idol.

9:00 pm: Lights out.

New York, Round 2

When I got back from my trip to New York last year, I thought it would be a while before I went back, to the point where I lent out my guidebooks and map and didn't bother getting them back. Then My Close Personal Friend Cornelia Read happened to get herself nominated for a major literary award right before my cousin Jake is getting married in Baltimore, so off I go again. Not that I mind, of course, quite the contrary. I've even been thinking vaguely that it might be nice to be the sort of person who makes an annual trip to New York City catching a show or two and working my way through the stores and museums. But then I remind myself that there are a lot of other places in the world to see, many of which have hotel rates that average less than two hundred dollars a night. But I am definitely going to enjoy this trip, brief as it is.

That is, assuming my choice to fly in on a redeye tonight doesn't backfire on me and I end up spending the majority of my two days half-asleep and cranky. But that's just a chance I'm going to have to take.

"You're no Sanjaya! You have to board like everyone else."

Paula Abdul has trouble with the concept of no frills.

"Yes"

Warning: Video contains terrible sound and worse language. And yes, Dad, I think it is necessary. (The language, that is. The sound is just unfortunate.)

Makes American Idol Look Tasteful and Restrained By Comparison

Flying Bulgarians?
Israeli rap?
Bellarussian boybanders?
A Swiss vampire rave?
Andorran pop-punk?
A Danish drag-queen Cher?
Latvia?

Clearly, this can only mean one thing: The Eurovision Song Contest is upon us.


That, or the end of days. Possibly both.

Taxi!

"Hi folks, where to?"
"Arizona."

Reason #586 Why I Am A Bad Person

So, last night I went to see blues singer/guitarist John Hammond, with Abigail, who digs them blues (I don't, really, but I believe in expanding my horizons). But that's not why I'm a bad person. I'm a bad person because, as I was sitting there at Freight and Salvage, listening to what I am sure were fine blues and watching the middle-aged white people attempt to locate the downbeat, all I could think was "What is Melinda singing tonight on Idol? Please let her do something a little younger this week. And god, I hope Phil can manage to pull it together and outlast Haley. The way she's going, if she makes it another week she'll be coming out wearing nothing but a scarf and a couple of strategically placed kumquats."

See? Bad person.

The Mind Boggles

What, exactly, do you suppose is involved in a Lutheran seder?

Are You the Manager Or Aren't You?

In honor of the return of BASEBALL! (see below), a classic of American comedy:



Some things just never get old.

Baseball!

baseballbaseballbaseballbaseballbaseballbaseballbaseballbaseballbaseballbaseballbaseballbaseballbaseballbaseballbaseballbaseballbaseballbaseballbaseballbaseballbaseballbaseballbaseballbaseballbaseballbaseballbaseballbaseballbaseballbaseballbaseballbaseballbaseballbaseballbaseballbaseballbaseballbaseballbaseballbaseballbaseballbaseballbaseballbaseballbaseballbaseballbaseballbaseballbaseballbaseballbaseballbaseballbaseballbaseballbaseballbaseballbaseballbaseballbaseballbaseballbaseballbaseballbaseballbaseball

BASEBALL!!



(p.s. go A's!)


Update: Okay, not the best start. But hey, it's a long season.

Starring: Me!

Well, not starring, exactly, but I did get to be the featured reader on EW.com's Idolatry webcast this week. Which is just about as cool as anything that has happened to me lately. I got the call on my cell phone on my way to work yesterday, just as I was about to merge from 880 onto 84, which seems to be a place where I get very bad signal. But it was all good, because it cleared up right about when I had to start talking, and I made it off the freeway without getting into an accident and I think I even managed to be kind of coherent. Even better, they cut the joke I made about killing myself if Haley outlasted Lakisha, which is a big relief because I was kind of regretting that one.

Well, Okay

Last night, as I was driving home (or, more accurately, stuck in the massive traffic jam caused by the Mexico v. Ecuador soccer game at the Coliseum while trying to drive home), I found myself creeping slowly along behind a Prius. With an NRA cap displayed proudly in the rear window. Driven by a young Asian woman who pulled off lane changes that would make me grip the wheel in fear.

My mind is now officially blown.

I tried to resist...

But I just couldn't. Its. Just. Too. Cute.



I think my heart just grew three sizes

Thanks, again, to CuteOverload.

Every Book Ever Written: Condensed Version

Self Help:
If you want something, work hard to get it, but remember that you may need extra skills and some luck.

Weight Loss:
Calorie Input > Calories Expended = Weight Gained
Calorie Input < Calories Expended = Wieght Lost

Memoir:
Everything that ever happened to me is Very Important, because it happened to me.

Romance:
"I don't love you."
"I don't love you either."
"I love you!"
"I love you too!"

Thriller:
"Look out!"
"Oh no!"
"Whew."

Mystery:
"I don't know."
"I don't know."
"I don't know."
"I know!"

Science Fiction:
The future? Gonna suck, but the clothes will be cool.

History:
And now they're all dead. The end.

Literary Fiction:
Everything that ever happens to these characters is Very Important, because they are characters in a work of literary fiction.

Business/Investing:
It's easy to get rich, but it takes a lot of money.

Travel Narrative:
I had a great time on my trip! Wanna see some pictures?

Fantasy:
We don't need no steenkin' internal combustion engines.

Celebrity Autobiography:
Look at me! Look at me! Look at me! Why can't I have any privacy?

Political:
We're all going to die, and it's all their fault.

Children's Board Books:
Printed with non-toxic ink.

Pictures Stolen From Other Blogs, Part 2

This one comes from Popwatch, my spiritual home on the internet.



Here's how I imagine this picture came to be:

"Okay, let's get one of Stamos with his shirt off. The ladies love that guy."
"But it's a family show- we have to get the family in there."
"So we toss in the baby. Even better!"
"But won't it look weird if she's dressed and he isn't?"
"Too 'Picnic on the Grass'? Maybe you're right. Strip the baby!"
"I'll get a towel."

Could Be Worse

You think your rennovation is going badly? Well, look at it this way; at least you haven't ended up with candy-striped upholstery or a toilet in the living room, right?



And exactly whose idea was it to install the four-hundred pound mouse?

(with regards to CuteOverload, the interweb's primary provider of all that is cute)

No, actually I would NOT like to swing on a star, thank you very much

Note:
I have had the Out of This World theme stuck in my head All Damn Day.

This is your fault, Wilson.

My Early Influences

Were I ever to become famous, at some point someone would probably ask me what works influenced me in my early development. And I would most certainly lie, because the truth would be that it was shows like this:



It's a half-hour animated ad, with commercial breaks! Oh, how I loved Saturday mornings.

Arizona Pictures

My pictures from the first ballgame.




I don't think Sports Illustrated is going to be calling any time soon.



We had seats right behind home plate for the game against the Cubs.






Along with the cacti, the Botanic Garden featured this very odd tree.





Also at the Botanic Garden there were these sculptures made out of twigs and saplings. You can walk around inside them and the windows frame little snapshot views of the desert.



Navajo dancers at the Indian (not Native American) Festival.



More dancers, this time from a Mexican troupe. What you can't see is that it's a fairly windy day, and those headdresses must have been hell to work with.



Mmm, fry bread with honey. Bee-licious!

YouTube Friday: Bonus Song Parody Edition!

Lately, I have been thinking about this song:



It is not my favorite song, mainly because it has one of the dumbest metaphors in recorded music. But, thinking about it now, I realize that there's something to be said for the idea of letting Our Lord and Savior do the driving, so I came up with my own version. Enjoy!

Jesus, Take the Wheel (Revised Lyrics)

We were drivin' down 5 on our way to San Diego
In a snow white Honda coupe
Goin' down to see the beaches and some sunshine
And the pandas at the zoo
Fifty miles to go and we were runnin' low
On chips and gasoline
It'd been a long hard day

We left at nine this morning and we were tryin' to make it
There before sunset
Before we knew it it was almost seven and we weren't there yet
I saw a rest stop sign flash before my eyes
I could barely keep them open wide
So I changed lanes, I said "I'm done for the day."

(Chorus)
Jesus take the wheel
I'm gonna take a nap
'Cause I can barely see the road
I'm stopping here
So we can stretch our legs
And maybe get some Doritos
Jesus take the wheel

We stopped for ten minutes at a little place of business, selling fruit and homemade pies
I stayed in the car and climbed in the backseat just to rest my eyes
When I woke up we had gone down the road three miles more
I said I'm sorry did I snore
I've been up since five
I'm just completely wiped
So from now on tonight
(Repeat chorus)

Daisy and Mom Go Native

We did not go to the baseball game yesterday, because the A's were in Tuscon. Instead, we went to the 49th Annual Heard Museum Indian Fair. Not Native American, Indian. Apparently, actual Indians are a lot less sensative about the terminology than people in Berkeley. (On the other hand, there are a lot fewer actual people from India here to make things confusing.) We went without knowing much about it, other than there was going to be dancing and art and fry bread, but those seemed like good enough reasons to us. The art was a mixed bag; lots of chunky silver jewelry and paintings of wolves and eagles looking noble, some beautiful and very expensive pottery and weavings and a few cool pieces in my approximate price range, which I bought. The dancing was likewise cool, with different troupes representing various regions (Navajo, Plains, Northwest, Mexico). I am typically made very uncomfortable by the "displays of native dancing" put on for tourists, and avoid them whenever possible, but for some reason I was fine with this, even liked it. I suppose it had to do with the lack of pretense about what we were watching: these were professional performers on a public stage, not some kind of anthropological curiosity under glass. Like watching morris dancers at a ren fair, only more entertaining and with less of a risk of having someone call you "wench".

But frankly, the hit of the party was the fry bread. Which is, in fact, fried bread. You could get it with beans or honey, but not both. We went with honey, which came generously applied and showed a tendency to spread to all available surfaces. It was also very popular with the cloud of honeybees that had gathered over the grounds and which forced me to do the kind of odd flapping you do when you're trying to drive something off without actually hitting it. Eventually we managed to broker a truce, with me eating the still-dripping bread and the bees happily slurping up the pools of honey on the plate. So it was a very succesful snack, though I did spend the rest of the day being rather sticky.

Our other food-related adventure had fewer insects but more cultural intrest, and also sand. There was, as a kind of combination food stand and cultural display, a couple of women making parched corn and pika bread, both traditional dishes that make you very happy to live in a place and time where you do not have to make traditional dishes. The bread was made by a woman taking small handfuls of a blue cornmeal batter and spreading it in a thin layer with her bare hand over a piece of stone, The stone, which was about two inches thick, was sitting over a constantly roaring fire and after a minute or two she would peel up the paper-thin sheet of bread and roll it into a tube. It looked like it might be good, but the servings were so few and far between that there was really no hope of getting one, so we settled for the parched corn. That was a handful of corn kernels cooked in a pot with very fine sand (to distribute the heat) and stirred non-stop by another woman, who was assited by what appeared to be her mother and daughter. After about ten minutes of cooking, the woman would scoop the corn out with a strainer into a colander, shake the sand out and sponge it down with salt water. Then the older woman would go through the basket, picking out all the burned pieces while the corn cooled, before the girl (who was probably ten or eleven) carefully filled styrofoam cups all the way up to the brim, patting them down to make sure they were nice and even. I know this all because each batch only produced about five servings, and there were about ten people in line ahead of me, so I had plenty of time to watch and learn.

In case you were wondering, parched corn tastes a lot like corn nuts, only smaller and less likely to break your teeth.

Notes From Arizona

1. The Phoenix Metropolitan area is very large, and sometimes they close large sections of their freeways for no apparent reason.

2. I wasn't kidding about the strip mall thing. Despite that, it is surprisingly hard to find a grocery store around here.

3. I have the power to influence anyone to buy shoes, up to and including my Mom.

4. A's vs Brewers: 3,000 fans. A's vs Cubs: 10,000 fans. There was a lot of blue in the stadium today.

5. Spring training is one of the very few times when the line for the men's room is longer than the line for the ladies' room.

6. The Desert Botanical Garden in Phoenix is a lovely place. There are a lot of cacti there.

7. There is a restaurant in Chandler called The Carlesbad Tavern. It is decorated in a very tasteful bats-and-faux-stone motif (with a moat!) and serves New Mexican food. Which is, for the most part, spicy, and also good. After some discussion with our waitress, who warned us that certain menu items were on the intense side, I decided to be adventuresome and order one anyway (with sauce on the side) despite my well-documented recent experiences with doing exactly that. At least no one can accuse me of learning.

Baseball, Nachos, Sunburn

Daisy and Mom's Baseball Adventure, now in its second day, and for the first time including actual baseball! Plus nachos and a sunburn. The baseball came courtesy of the A's, playing an exhibition game against the Brewers. It was easily the most relaxed I have ever been at the ballpark, particularly compared to the last game I saw, in the playoffs last year. For example, at no time did I have to put a rally towel over my head because I couldn't bear to watch. (I probably should have, considering the sunburn, but we'll get to that in a minute.) We had terrific seats, out along the third base line, one row back from the field, which should have put us next to the A's dugout, but for some reason they had them reversed so that the visiting teams was on our side. But it was still cool and, despite never leading until the eighth inning, the A's won, which was nice even though it didn't matter.
The "nachos" were provided by the concession stand, and consisted of a small basket of corn chips and a little plastic cup of "cheese". I know it was fresh because I saw them dispense it from the machine right there.
The sunburn is not as bad as it might have been, thanks to the nice lady sitting in front of me who let me borrow her sunscreen (she also knew one of the Brewers' players, which made for some cool evesdropping). And yes, you read that right: we managed to go to Arizona and not bring sunscreen. But I got pretty good coverage, not perfect, because when you're borrowing a stranger's sunscreen you don't get to be really thorough, and I thought I would be okay. I didn't do my face, because I knew my maekup had sunscreen in it. What I didn't know, unfortunately, was that while I was applying my makeup I must have gotten distracted, and I missed my nose. Let's just say that right now, if anyone needs help guiding a flying sleigh through the fog, I'm your girl.

Spring Training Run

Greetings from Phoenix, land of sunshine and strip malls! And many, many pieces of tourquoise jewelry. Mom and I arrived here today, having gotten up at an ungodly hour for the airborne cattle drive that is flying Southwest, because we are baseball fans, and we are here to get our first look at the 2007 A's who, along with about a third of the MLB teams, have their Spring Training here. (The rest are in Florida, due to unknown forces that cause baseball teams and old people to co-localize in the winter.)
We don't have tickets to a game until tomorrow so, since we got here too early to check into our hotel (in Chandler), we made our way to Scottsdale, where there was a place listed in Roadfood and (we thought) the good shopping was supposed to be. Lunch was great, at a real old-time ice cream parlor with quilted pink booths and grilled American cheese sandwiches on the menu. In purely objective terms, the sandwich may or may not have been good. I am not qualified to judge because it was so perfectly like the grilled cheese sandwich (with potato chips and a pickle spear) that was my favorite thing to eat at Ortman's (on Solano, where the Starbucks is now). That there were hot fudge sundaes for dessert should really go without saying.
Shopping, on the other hand, was slightly less successful. This was probably our fault. After all, are the good shopkeepers of Scottsdale really to be blamed if we were not interested large pieces of silver jewelry, Mexican-style home accessories, bronze horse sculptures or lifesized, plastic Native Americans? Of course not.
But all is not lost. As soon as Mom gets done impersonating an office (they just opened the bids for building the new treatment plant) we're going to go to the outlet mall across the street, where we may be more appropriate.

Belated Oscars Commentary

Now that it's a couple of days later, and everybody is completely over the Oscars, I think it's about time I weighed in with my thoughts. (In the form of a bulleted list, because that's always fun.)

- Ellen: Did pretty well as host, really, one of the more thankless jobs going. Think about it; tens of millions of people watching you, simultaneously expecting nonstop comedic brilliance and wishing you'd just shut up and get on with the show so they can go to bed, playing to a room of people who aren't going to laugh unless they can see a more famous person laughing so they know it's okay. So I'm not going to be too harsh on her comedy.

- I am, however, going to be harsh on her clothes. I knew she was going to be wearing a tux, and I'm fine with that. I could even have handled the fact that it was maroon velvet, if it had actually fit her. But nothing is going to get me to forgive the white patent leather loafers. (How many Salvation Army stores did she have to hit to find those?) Just because you're a comedienne is no excuse to go dressing like a used-car salesman attending a Lion's Club dinner, circa 1978.

- But I really should be thanking her for providing the necessary outlet for snarkiness, because otherwise the event was suffering from and unfortunate outbreak of taste and elegance in the clothing department, leaving poor Jennifer Hudson to face the collective wrath of the 5,864,233 fashion commentators present. And, yeah, the odd little shrug and disproportionate spagetti straps were unfortunate, but let's face it, it was no swan dress.

- Did you know they actually gave out awards at this thing? For movies! I hadn't seen any of them, because I have very bad taste.

- But I do have to comment on what was the greatest travesty of the evening, and possibly the decade: Happy Feet beating out Cars for best animated feature. I believe I have made my feeling on the former abundantly clear, but feel free to bring up the topic with me some time and I'll go ahead and rant some more to you.

- Based on the performances at the show, I would say that Best Song was a dissappointment too. I'm generally much more of a fan of Melissa Etheridge than Beyonce, but I have to say that any of the Dreamgirls songs (with a slight edge to "Listen", for being the most contemporary and least show-tuney) would have been better than whatever was the name of the one Ms. Etheridge won with. Seriously, the only thing I remember about her performance is that at one point the screen behind her flashed the word "recycle."

- I wonder what the CA Redemption Value of an Oscar is.

- About the running time. The show's producers are always blaming the winners for making it run long by taking too long with their thank-yous. That may have been true in the past, but if they try to use that excuse this year I'll be right here to tell you they're full of it. Because even if you cut every acceptance speech out of that program, it still would have run long by approximately, by my estimate, two montages and an honorary award. And anyway, shouldn't they be ready for long speeches? It's kind of like leaving yourself only fifteen minutes to get into the city on a Saturday afternoon and then blaming the fact that you're half an hour late on traffic on the Eastshore. I mean, what did you expect?

Getting all MSTie-eyed

Of all of my geeky traits, from the creation of science-themed artwork to the knowledge of pi to five decimal places, nothing identifies me so definitely as the nerd I am as my love for Mystery Science Theater 3000. Do you can imagine my delight when, during my search for Oscars-related videos, I came across this special (here in parts one, two, and three. Enjoy; I know I did.

Sparkly Old Ladies on Parade

In honor of Sunday's Academy Awards, a classy number from a past show:

Lunchtime Tourism

Today I went out to lunch with a couple of my coworkers, to a place nearby that specializes in Hong Kong-style food. Melanie, who is from Hong Kong, chose it, which seemed like a pretty good guaranteer of authenticity, though I was a bit surprised by the garlic bread and minestrone soup they served as starters (apparently, Asianized versions of Western food are as popular there as Westernized versions of Asian food are here). But the lunch options were authenitic to the point where I didn't recognize most of them, so I decided it was time to be adventuresome. After all, I watch No Reservations, don't I? And I want to be like Tony, fearlessly travelling the world and discovering fabulous meals in the most unlikely places, right? So what better way to start than by sampling the exotic foods right in my own backyard? (Actually, in the strip mall down the street from the office park, but same diff.) So I survey the menu, and choose, semi-randomly, "e-mein in XO sauce", which my dining companions explained was noodles. What can go wrong with noodles?
And indeed, my order came and it was tasty. For about forty-five seconds. Then the chili sauce caught up to me and it became painfully obvious that there was no way that I, with my weak white-girl taste buds, was ever going to be able to eat this dish. So Melanie flagged down the waitress and, after some discussion (in Cantonese), she (the waitress) offered me a replacement entree. Which was awfully nice of her, seeing as how it was hardly the restaurant's fault that I didn't know what I was ordering. (I got the distinct impression that I was being treated as the clueless tourist; not that I'm complaining.) So I just admitted defeat and ate my chicken chow fun. With a fork, because at this point, who was I kidding?

Being Cranky is No Excuse

This week's Very Important Lesson:
My sense of humor does not always translate well.

JCB Song

And now, quite possibly the sweetest song ever written about a piece of heavy earthmoving equipment.



Don't you just want to hug it?

A situation in which I would be required to do a situp to save my life

(Int. dungeon. I am lying on a plank over a pool of hungry piranhas with my hands tied across my chest and a giant razor-sharp blade hanging over me.)
Sinister, Shadowy Figure: Unless you can reach the cord hanging over you and grab it with your teeth in the next three minutes, this blade will fall on you and you will die!
Me: Curses!
Shadowy, Sinister Figure: Bwahaha! Now, I'd love to stay and watch, but I have a mah jongg game that starts at three. Tootles!
Me: (trying to sit up) Ehn!
Me: (trying some more) Urk.
Me: (flopping around, trying to build up some momentum) huphuphup- urg!
Me: Come on stomach muscles, do your stuff!
(My stomach muscles do what stuff they can, raising my shoulders a full four inches off the ground.)
Giant, Razor-Sharp Blade: Shthunk.
(I die.)


See? That's what I'm talking about.

Appropriate Motivation

As some of you may have noticed, it has been raining lately (this is assuming, of course, that all of my readers live in the Bay Area, because they do). And one problem with rain is that it makes my preferred method of exercise, jogging, less pleasant than usual. So I've been forced to come up with another type of physical activity, eventually settling on push-ups (the girly kind, from th knees) and crunches (depressing discovery: I could not do a real, full-on situp if my life depended on it. Fortunately, this seems unlikely). Which is all well and good, and I'm sure it would be nice to have stomach muscles, but they aren't a lot of fun. So I've had to come up with some way to motivate myself:


It's all about finding out what works for you.

Muffins!

Muffins.



(thanks to Mary for this one)

A post that was just supposed to be a joke about American Idol, but got out of hand

Place: A secret laboratory, behind a strip mall somewhere in the Deep South.
Two scientists are huddled over a dimly-lit tank, from which choppy strains of "Unbreak My Heart" can be faintly heard.

Scientist 1: It's almost ready! Soon we will be able to put the final stage of our plan into action.
Scientist 2: I'm telling you, you're being too hasty. And since when do we have a plan?
Scientist 1: Of course we have a plan! You know that we are creating our army of blonde southern naifs to advance as American Idol contestants before turning into our brutal agents of destruction.
Scientist 2: Oh, that plan.
Scientist 1: They'll never create enough antivenin in time!
Scientist 2: Yes, yes, but why the hurry?
Scientist 1: Our lease on this place is up next month. Damn landlord wants to put a Hardee's in here.
Scientist 2: Gotcha. Well, I guess we'd better fire her up then. Phil!
(A RESEARCH ASSOCIATE, who has been doing all of the actual work, appears from under a piece of equipment.)
Research Associate: Are you talking to me? Because Phil left last month.
Scientist 1: Whatever. Get moving, we're going live!
(Switches are thrown, cranks whir, machinery springs to life. Variously colored liquids move through tubes over the tank. Somewhere in the distance a coffee machine turns on. A thin, blonde figure stumbles out of the tank and looks around for a camera.)
Scientist 1: Yes! KMI005 is a go!
KMI005: *giggle* Who, little ol' me? *giggle*
Scientist 1: She's adorable! No one will be able to resist.
KMI005: *giggle* Y'all want me to sing sumthin? Ah've always dre-uhmed of bein' a singuh. *giggle*
Scientist 2: I don't know, don't you think you've set the accent a little strong?
RA: Yeah, we're almost out of the starting material, so we had to crank up the Southern charm to compensate.
KMI005:(warbling) Give meh one moment in tahm...
Scientist 2: Starting material? You mean the DNA from that water bottle we stole from Faith Hill's dressing room?
Scientist 1: Right. We used most of it on KMI001; we've been running on fumes ever since. We filled out the gaps for 005 here with a combination of frogs and Hooters waitresses.
KMI005: Ah keep on fahling in 'n out of love wit y'all... *giggle*
Scientist 1: (to RA) How's the backstory coming?
RA: I think I've got it. You see, she's an orphan, because her dad was a trucker, and one day he came back from a long haul and his friend told him that his dog had run off and his wife was cheating on him with another man, so he went to see the guy and found him dead, so he shot his gun off to get the attention of a patrol car, and they arrested him and hanged him almost immediately, even though it was really his sister who killed the guy, plus the wife, for reasons that remain unclear. What do you think?
Scientist 2: Isn't that the plot of the song "The Night the Lights Went Out in Georgia"?
RA: Yeah, but I added the part about the dog.
KMI005:(off-key) ...and Ah'm hungry lahk the wolf...
Scientist 1: Dammit, this isn't working. (reaching for a knob) We need more charming Southerness!
Scientist 2: No! The system can't take it!
(Scientist 1 cranks the knob all the way into the red.)
KMI005: *giggle* Ah lahk pea-yus. *giggle*
RA: She's gonna blow!
Scientist 1: Oh, come on, she's not that bad.
RA: No, I mean--
RKI005:(exploding) KUH-BLAYUM!
(The scientists emerge from the pile of heavily accented rubble.)
Scientist 1: Well. I guess we'll have to go with plan C.
Scientist 2: I think that was plan C.
Scientist 1: Plan D, then. Phil! Bring the frisbees.
RA: (dying) I'm... not... Phil.

THE END

One of my favorite things in the world is my sattelite radio (XM, because they have baseball). And one of my favorite stations is UPOP; all Europop, all the time. This is one of the reasons why:




(Yes, it is a dance cover of a seriously uncool eighties pop hit. And yes the video is so cheesy it passes by "so bad it's good", right back to just "bad". But face it; if that song does not make you want to get out of your chair and get down with your bad self, then you may be clinically dead.)

This Is Just So Sad

You know your team is not doing that great when the main point of your advertising materials is that people should come to the games to see the great players on the other teams:

SEE KOBE, IVERSON, AND CARMELO

Take advantage of this exclusive opportunity to purchase individual tickets for the Lakers and Nuggets

As a benefit to being a XXX employee, the Golden State Warriors would like to extend to you this unique opportunity to purchase individual tickets to see two of the top teams in the NBA. These previously unavailable tickets are now available to see the final Bay-Area appearance of Kobe Bryant and the Los Angeles Lakers on Sunday, February 25, as well as the new-look Denver Nuggets with NBA superstars Allen Iverson and Carmelo Anthony on Wednesday, March 7.

Road Trip!

Last night, there was a potluck at my friends Ben and Beverly's house in Santa Clara (theme: sticky foods). Mary, Abigail and I carpooled there, in order to conserve Earth's precious natural resources and discuss critical issues of the day, such as whether or not the song on the radio was by Styx. To get to Santa Clara from Berkeley (by way of Alameda, where I am housesitting) you take 880 south, jog over on 237 and go the rest of the way on surface streets. Normally.
(maps courtesy of Mary)

The correct way to get to and from Ben and Beverly's:
http://www.gmap-pedometer.com/?r=675337

How we got there:
http://www.gmap-pedometer.com/?r=675351

And how we got back:
http://www.gmap-pedometer.com/?r=675355

All this with three people, two sets of directions and one Thomas guide* in the car. Plus one call for directions that resulted in Ben calling Beverly "Helena", eventually forcing me to demand that "Everybody stop yelling at each other and give me directions."
The party was a lot of fun, though, and people ate all of my satay with peanut sauce.

*To be fair, the Thomas guide did not enter play until fairly late in the game.

Just Because I Can

At least, I think I can.
Now: Embedding a YouTube video in the blog.



Did it work?

My Entry For the American Idol Song Competition

This year, the producers of American Idol have decided to choose the song to be sung by the winner in the finale from a national competition. This is my entry, a song that I think really expresses the true, innermost feelings of the winner at the moment of victory (lyrics only as, sadly, I have the musical ability of a medium-sized trout).


The Heart of Victory

(Intro)
Here I am, standing in the spotlight
Well for once, America got it right

I’m the winner, I knew I would be
By the way, I also act
I’m gonna be bigger than Kelly
Soon as I get out of my contract
And the thousands of hopefuls who came
Are thousands of losers today
So take a good look at your dream
And go back to your job at Tarjay

(Chorus)
So I guess I’ll see ya
Sure wouldn’t wanna be ya
You’ll never be like me
And if you think you might be
Then you can just bite me

The finalists I was up against
Had their moments, but not this one
They really thought they had a chance
But they lost and I won
Ooh, losing in this race
May be for your own good
I just know you’ll find a place
Guest-hosting Access Hollywood

(Chorus)

(Rap Interlude)
I’ll hug you now, but I think you can see
Second place is just first loser to me
You think you’re a Clay, but you’re just a Justin
Ten minutes from now, you’ll be in the dustbin
The bloggers may whine and your momma may boo
But we all know I won ‘cause I’m better than you

(Chorus)
Sometimes the judges didn’t even like me
But they can just bite me
Go ahead and bite me
BIIIIIIIIIITE MEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE

An Important Life Lesson

When you are at a fancy restaurant, and you ask the waitress for some water, and she asks you "Still or sparkling?" what do you say to prevent yourself for having to pay eight dollars for a pint of Norwiegan tap water? Do you say sparkling? Do you say still? No! You say tap!

Yay!

The nominees for the 2007 Edgar Awards were announced today and Cornelia (who I will from now on refer to as "my close personal friend, Cornelia Read") is up for best first novel!

So, you know, yay!

Help is On Its Way

Here comes Peter Cottontail
Hopping down the bunny trail
Bearing humanitarian aid
And a nuclear non-proliferation treaty.


(thanks, again, to Karen for the link)

Who Are you Calling a Nerd?

Not me, that's for sure. See? I do art!



What? What?

Hey, I'm famous!

. . . As a bad example. Really, were you expecting anything else?
Brilliant bestselling author Tess Gerritsen based a recent blog post on a recent comment of mine on why I can't manage to write stories in a scientific setting, because I get too caught up in the details and trying to get everything right. She makes some excellent points about information vs. characterization and what really makes a story go, so hey, glad I could help.

Golf? Chain? Sausage?

No, web! Thanks to the fine folks at Blogger, now even an html-incompetent person like me can add links to her blog, so I have. Enjoy.

March Madness, Here We Come!

Caltech Men's Basketball Team Wins First Game In Ten Years

The funny thing is, their last win seems to have happened when I was a sophomore, and yet I remember nothing of this momentous occasion. (Ben? David? Help me out here; was there a party and I just wasn't invited?) I do remember that CNN did a story on the team-- something about them having the worst record and the best SAT scores-- and that some of the players were annoyed because they had to dress up in lab coats and stand around in a chemistry lab when they were mostly engineers.

(Thanks to Karen for the heads-up.)

World's Tallest Man Saves Dolphins

From Nature:

The world's tallest man, Bao Xishun, was called in to save two dolphins that had swallowed plastic shards at an aquarium in Fushun, northeast China. After surgical instruments failed to remove the sharp slivers, Bao used one of his 1.06-metre arms to reach in and extract the chunks from the dolphins' stomachs.

As scintillating as this account is, it leaves out a few key details, which I have supplied below by making them up:

(Scene: It is early afternoon and the World's Tallest Man is relaxing in his Fortress of Height when he notices a light shining on the clouds (it's a cloudy day).)

World's Tallest Man: The Tall Signal*!

He leaps up (and up, and up) and grabs the phone.

World's Tallest Man: Hello, Commissioner?. . . I see; that sounds serious. . . . You want me to stick my arm where? . . . No, I understand, I'll be right there. (To his trusty companion, the World's Second Oldest Cappibera) To the Tallmobile!

EXT. FUSHUN AQUARIUM-- DAY: The World's Tallest Man arrives and is greeted by the Commissioner of Dolphins.

Commissioner: Hurry! This way!

World's Tallest Man: Right.

He steps out of the Tallmobile, up the steps and through the door.

INT. FUSHUN AQUARIUM-- DAY: Two sick dolphins are lying on a table. A crowd of worried doctors and spectators is gathered around.

Dolphins (telepathically): Save us, World's Tallest Man!

World's Tallest Man: (shaking out his arms) Be calm, my finned friends. I'm here to help.

Short Spectator: I don't understand tall people, and I don't trust them. I think they should all be locked up. How do we know they aren't going to turn on us one day and crush us with their giant feet?

Another Spectator: He sure is tall, isn't he?

Yet Another Spectator: My cousin is pretty tall, you know. He's at least, like six-three.

Previous Spectator, Not The Short One: I think this guy's taller than that.

The World's Tallest Man sticks his arms into the dolphins' mouths, all the way up to the shoulder, roots around for a minute and pulls out two handfuls of sharp plastic shards.

Spectators (Except The Short One): Yay!

Commissioner of Dolphins: Thank you so much! How can we ever repay you?

World's Tallest Man: (sagely) You owe me nothing. With great height comes great responsibility.

He leaps into the Tallmobile and drives away, avoiding low overpasses and overhanging trees.

New Spectator: Who was that tall man?

Spectator From Before: That was Bao Xishun, the World's Tallest Man. Where the hell have you been?

*For the purposes of this story, everyone in China speaks English.

The Three Kinds of People

1. those who would look at a bowl of stale doughnuts and think nothing, 2. those who dream of throwing them and 3. those who would actually do it. (Source: A Czech humorist, name unknown because it didn't come up on the first couple of pages of Google hits.)

I think I'm the second kind of person. What kind are you?

GI/BIGG 7: Last-Minute Shopping

Good Idea*:

The fanciest bottle of wine at the supermarket you can afford. At this point, you're making up for a lack of thoughtfulness with expense.

*Unless the intended recipient is a small child or recovering alcoholic. Or current alcoholic, for that matter. That's just mean. In these cases, admit defeat and give cash.


Bad Idea:

Anything else from the supermarket. Nothing says "I didn't think of you until about twelve hours ago" like a hastily assembled basket of deli products.

More Bad Ideas:
wiper fluid
a toothbrush you got from the dentist (especially if you have the same dentist)
handmade coupons "good for one free backrub", unless you usually charge
decorative rocks
anything that looks like it might have been picked out of the donation barrel at the Y
food stamps
hotel toiletries
excuses

GI/BIGG 6: For the Cook

Good Idea:

A paring knife.


Of course, the person you are shopping for already has a paring knife. Or, at least, he or she is sure there is one around here somewhere, only people keep taking it to open packages or unscrew the back of the dvd player, because who knows where the screwdriver went, and yes there's that one but the tip got broken off when it was used to pry that silver dollar out of the toaster, and oh yeah, every once in a while it turns up in the garage because someone has been using it for whittling.
This person needs a paring knife.


Bad Idea:

A cupcake stand.



It's a stand. For cupcakes. I realize that cupcakes are having something of a renaissance these days, as evidenced by the fact that when I was in New York I went to a bakery I had heard of as being specifically famous for making cupcakes and I had to stand in line around the corner to get in and there was a bouncer. For cupcakes. And when I did get one it was perfectly nice, the kind of cupcake someone's mom might make for a bake sale if she had enough time not just to make a run to Safeway but not enough to bake a whole pie or something, but not what I would call wait-around-the-corner-and-get-past-the-bouncer exceptional. So, clearly, there is some kind of fashion thing going on here. But a cupcake stand? Seriously? I mean, can you imagine anything more useless? Okay, so maybe it's cute the first time you pull it out for a party and everyone is impressed by how fashionable you are, but then what? Are you going to use it every year, until your guests start to sigh inside every time they see it? Plus, when you aren't using it, you've got this big thing you have to store somewhere, and what else are you going to do with it? Decorate it with tinsel and set it in your living room? Hang your bras to dry on it?
In short: No one needs this item.

Surgery Is Not Awesome

But you know what is? Being able to see out of both eyes.

GI/BIGG 6: For the Person You Don't Know What to Get For- Male

Good Idea:

Nerf Weaponry


You might think the guy you are buying a gift for is too mature for this kind of thing. You are wrong.












Bad Idea:

Cologne.




Most guys do not want to wear cologne. Those who do have one particular kind that they have been applying the exactly the same amount of in exactly the same way since they were seventeen and they are perfectly happy with it.

The only exception here is if the guy in question has taken to coating himself with a thick layer of Axe Body Spray, because he believes the ads that explicitly state that this will make all women, everywhere, want to have sex with him when in fact it makes him smell like a cheap bathroom deodorizer. In this case, just about anything will be an improvement.

Daisy's Big Gay Night Out: Music, Produce and People From Inside My TV

It was a really great time, right up until the bananas hit me in the head. Followed, of course, by the tangerines. At least I got one of those.

Perhaps I should start at the beginning. The beginning is a text message, received by me last Wednesday afternoon, asking if I wanted to go to the Soul Asylum/Scissor Sisters concert happenning that night. After briefly considering my obligations to my employer, I decided "Hell yeah" and replied with a text message to that effect. That I was mistaken as to who, exactly, was inviting me turned out to be a minor issue (it was David, whose boyfriend John got the tickets but couldn't go); more serious was the fact that I hadn't anticipating my day taking a turn for the fabulous and had come to work in a crummy old sweater. But, one emergency trip to Target later, I was ready to go.

The show was at Bimbo's, in the city, which turns out to be a really nice place, albeit with expensive drinks. On the way in, everybody got a blinking plastic Christmas tree necklace, which just makes any outfit cooler. Soul Asylum was opening and they were pretty good, except they played a few too many songs that weren't "Runaway Train" (including "Hava Nagila", which was odd). But it was worth it, because they did get around to playing their one-hit-wonder-qualifier and I was instantly transported back to high school, when I thought that song was just so deep, and held it as proof that I did like grunge.

But, as fun as that trip down the memory superhighway was, it was the act with the current hits that we came to see, so in the break between the sets we edged our way up closer in front of the stage, into a seriously primo position (which came with it's own downside, but more on that later). David wandered off to check out the place, and I happened to notice that the people standing in front of me looked awfully familiar. They were, in fact, Jamie and Bevis, two cast members of a show called 5Takes, a travel show that I find inexplicably fascinating. They were on the last leg of their trip, in San Francisco, so of course I had to go up and introduce myself and act like a total dork. But they were nice, less naive and better informed than they come across on TV, and it was just very odd and to see in person the people who typically live inside my television. Eventually, they managed to edge away from me, and a while after that the headliners finally took the stage. I knew some of their music from the radio, and I had heard that they were good live, and suffice it to say that they were not a dissapointment. The crowd was about 1200% more into than at the last couple of concerts I've been to, and at one point I was entirely surrounded by gay men, one of whom kept stepping on my foot. People kept pushing by me, pretending like they were going to join someone, and then stopping, sometimes directly in the spot I was at that moment occupying (perhaps they had confused orientation with spin, and believed the Pauli exclusion principle didn't apply). At times, I had to be rather firm with some of them.

Inconveniences, and potential violations of basic laws of physics, aside, it was an awsome concert, and totally worth not being exactly a hundred percent effective at work on Thursday.

*About the bananas: When they came out for their encore, the Scissor Sisters brought with them what I presume was the fruit basket from their dressing room and started pitching the contents into the crowd. Boxes of raisins were going off like squishy grenades on the floor, and what seemed like about half of the larger fruit somehow found its way to my head. But it was still a very good time.

GI/BIGG 5: For the Person You Don't Know What to Get For- Female

Good Idea:

Chocolate



Actually a good idea, regardless of gender. Unless they're allergic, then not so much. Also, avoid the fruit-flavored filling, unless you know otherwise.


Bad Idea:

Candles.



Nobody needs candles. It's the gift that says, "Here. I got you a gift."

Speaking of Holiday Music...

I have a bone to pick with the song "Do They Know It's Christmas?" by Band-Aid (which, if you will recall, was one of those collections of famous singers who cut charity singles for Africa, back when it was a place you sent money to, rather than where you went baby shopping), and I feel the need to share.
"But, how can you have a problem with such a noble, worthy cause?" you ask. "Don't you have any heart at all?"
"No," I say. "I don't. But that's not the issue here. Let's take a look at the chorus, shall we?"

And there won't be snow in Africa this Christmastime
The greatest gift they'll get this year is life(Oooh)
Where nothing ever grows
No rain or rivers flow
Do they know it's Christmastime at all?

Now, breaking that down:

And there won't be snow in Africa this Christmastime
Except in the Atlas Mountains and on Mount Kilimanjaro. And, of course, we are ignoring the fact that about half of the continent is south of the Equator, where it is, technically, summer. I hear there's some good skiing in South Africa in July, though.

The greatest gift they'll get this year is life(Oooh)
Isn't that true for all of us? (Oooh)

Where nothing ever grows
Principle agricultural products of selected African countries:
Kenya: tea, coffee, sugarcane, corn, wheat, rice, sisal, pineapples
Ghana: cocoa, pineapples, cashews,coconuts, pepper, shea nuts, cassava, yams, plantains, maize, rice, peanuts, millet, sorghum
Mail: Millet, sorgum, rice maize, peanuts, cotton
Republic of the Congo:cassava, sugar, rice, maize, peanuts, vegetables, coffee, cocoa
Democratic Republic of the Congo: coffee, palm oil, rubber, cotton, sugar, tea, cocoa, cassava, plantains, maize, groundnuts, rice
Chad: millet, sorghum, peanuts, rice, sweet potatoes, manioc, cassava, yams, cotton, gum arabic

No rain or rivers flow
Average annual rainfall in the Western Nile Basin: 390 in
Nile River: 4,160 mi
Niger River: 2500 mi
Congo River: 2,900 mi

Do they know it's Christmastime at all?
Well seeing as how Ethiopia is the second oldest Christian nation in the world, I'm guessing that at least a few of them do. For the forty percent of the population who are Muslim, a better question might be, do they care? And what is this, an evangelical thing?

Okay, so my point, which I have now made at length, is that whoever wrote the song failed sixth-grade geography and based their perception of an entire continent on that one picture of the skinny kid with the big eyes standing in front of the shack in a dusty field. But hey, is that so bad? They raised a lot of money, right? And who cares if you're a little bit condescending to people if you give them money?


Whew. Thanks. I feel better now.

Is Somebody Cooking In Here?

Before you get laser surgery on your eye, they tell you a lot of things. They tell you about the drops you're going to need to use, and how long it will take to recover and what, exactly the laser is doing in there. What they don't tell you about is the smell.

(Also: Apparently, I was the first person to ever ask the nurse how often people's eyes explode during the procedure. Seemed like an obvious question to me.)

GI/BIGG 4: Holiday Music

Good Idea:
Bing Crosby's Christmas Classics



Bad Idea:
A Colt .45 Christmas



(For certain individuals, reverse the above recommendations. You know who you are.)

GI/BIGG 3: For the Bird Lover

Good idea:
A lovely Audubon print:


Bad Idea:
Season Shot

The Woods-Williams Subtlety in Movies Act of 2006

Proposed: That no movie which contains in it singing and/or dancing penguins shall also include, as its climactic scene, live human actors depicting the members of the UN debating a ban on fishing in the Antarctic oceans, inspired by the power of dance. Violation of this law shall result in fines not less than a third of the gross earnings of said movie, to be paid to the North American Professional Fisheries Association. Failure to pay will be punished by the employment of government agents to attend all screenings of the offending movie and declare, "You have got to be kidding me" at regular intervals.

All fines are to be doubled if said movie employs a rendition of the song "Leader of the Pack" for dramatic purposes.

It's the Monday Before Thanksgiving

Why are all you people still here?

Good Idea/Bad Idea Gift Guide 2

Sweaters

Good Idea:
A nice sweater, without your employer's logo:



Bad Idea:
A sweater with your employer's logo. Which you paid money for.

(Actual text of an email sent by said employer:
Tis' the season to begin shopping.......

To ring in the holiday, XXX's online company store is offering selected items at discounted prices!! All items are in-stock and ready to ship out within 7 days of placing your order.


Happy Holiday's from XXX to you!

Click here to go to the company store and begin your holiday shopping

Happy Holiday's, indeed.)

The Good Idea/Bad Idea Gift Guide

As you may or may not be aware, the holidays are approaching. And since I am nothing if not helpful, I have decided to offer a series of posts one what to and what not to give as gifts. I'd say I'll do one a day until Christmas, but we both know I'd be lying. First up, the last resort for when you have no idea what to give: gift cards!

Good Idea:
Really, the best thing here is to figure out where your recipient actually shops, and get a card from there. But, if you don't know or can't be bothered to care, you can't go wrong with amazon. They can get pretty much anything and they don't have to leave the house.

Bad Idea:
A grocery store gift card:

The gift that says, "I don't think you have enough money for food.
Or,
"I'd give you cash, but I'm afraid you would spend it on drugs."

The Downside

Recently, I've taken up stained glass-making. Which is fun, and you end up with a nice window:



But, there is a downside:

Bad to the Subdermal Layer

Happy Halloween! This year, for reasons are now unclear, my lab decided to all dress up as biker-punks for the company Halloween party. With scooters. Here's a picture of some of us:



Left to right: Marcia, me, Benny (who designed the shirts-- note the antibody on the skull), Fiona, Hongxia, ~1/3 of Paul


Everybody, with scooters:

Daylight Savings Time

Beginning or ending? I can never remember. Either way, the clock in my car is finally accurate again!

Need to Feel Better About Yourself?

Just think, you may have done some pretty nutso, boneheaded things in your time, but at least you never opened a cereal-themed restaurant.

Or did you?

29 Today

Today is my 29th birthday. I'm starting to think that "not turning out the way you expected" is one of those Things That Life Does.


Commencing year-long freakout about turning thirty in 5. . . 4. . . 3. . . 2. . . 1. . .

Blood Money

Convential wisdom holds that when one has a fear, one must face it, thereby conquering it and becoming a more perfect person. So, as part of my ongoing quest for perfection, I decided to sell some blood. At work, because they don't take too much and they pay pretty well (more than a hundred dollars for five 10ml tubes if you have the right genotype).

Those of you who have known me for a while can already see the flaw in this plan. The thing is, I have low blood pressure (corpse hands!) and I freak out very easily. To illustrate, an example from my shameful past:

At my high school, every senior had to get up in assembly and give a speech. The subject matter was open, but was typically something along the lines of Life Experiences. Except that these were all wealthy, coddled children of Marin County, and they hadn't actually had any life experiences, So you got a variety of related topics, such as The Time I Met Poor People and Injuries I Have Had. One of the latter was a young man who decided to describe the time he got hit in the face by a softball, and the amount of bleeding that ensued (I believe the term "buckets" was used). I was sitting on the end of the third bleacher up and I started to feel dizzy. "But no," I thought, "I can't put my head down. That would be too embarassing."
The next thing I remember is looking up at the underside of the bleachers and wondering where my glasses went. I turned my head to find one of my friends holding my feet up in the air and a teacher asking me if I knew my name. I had scored a direct hit on the top of my head, which might have been bad if I hadn't already been unconcious.

What I'm saying is, I have a history. But can a person really be a prisoner of her fears and biology her entire life? (Yes.)

Given that I have taken the time to tell this story, no points for figuring out what happened ten and a half tubes into my ritual bloodletting. The nice lady had to take the needle out pretty quickly because I was twitching. To be fair, I did warn her. Anyway, the experience wasn't a total loss-- I got apple juice and some rice crispy treats and fifty dollars for the shoe fund. And really, don't you think conciousness is way overrated?

Mai Tais and Sunsets

One of each, actually. That's my entirely stereotypical image of a tropical vacation, and I was determined to make it a reality. Since the sunset in question must, of course, be over the ocean, once we finished our adventure Megan and I made our way to the southern (but west-facing) shore of the island. We found a promising-sounding restaurant in the guidebook which, of course, was under construction (see previous post re: guidebooks, accuracy of). But it turned out okay, because there was another restaurant at the same hotel (a Mariott, I think), outside by the pool, where there was a lady playing music and another performing a very mellow hula. They made a fine mai tai and the rotation of the earth obliged with a glorious sunset over one of the neighboring islands and I had tuna (seared, rare) with a macadamia nut crust and mango salsa that was at least an order of magnitude better than anything else I had had on the trip so far.

Given the chance, I think I could get used to this sort of thing.