(not the teenage kind)

Saturday, April 30, 2005

My Mutts Gone And Got Himself A Blog

Check it out....

He's got sponsors and everything. Click on one of his links and order something and he'll finally earn his keep. Now if I could just get Ms. Jill to get my house in the movies, I could open a bottle of wine and kick it.

Friday, April 29, 2005

"Oh, My Gosh, They're Talking About My Burrito"

This from Yahoo News:

A call about a possible weapon at a middle school prompted police to put armed officers on rooftops, close nearby streets and lock down the school. All over a giant burrito. Someone called authorities Thursday after seeing a boy carrying something long and wrapped into Marshall Junior High. The drama ended two hours later when the suspicious item was identified as a 30-inch burrito filled with steak, guacamole, lettuce, salsa and jalapenos and wrapped inside tin foil and a white T-shirt.

"I didn't know whether to laugh or cry," school Principal Diana Russell said.

State police, Clovis police and the Curry County Sheriff's Department arrived at the school shortly after 8:30 a.m. They searched the premises and determined there was no immediate danger. In the meantime, more than 30 parents, alerted by a radio report, descended on the school. Visibly shaken, they gathered around in a semi-circle, straining their necks, awaiting news.

"There needs to be security before the kids walk through the door," said Heather Black, whose son attends the school. After the lockdown was lifted but before the burrito was identified as the culprit, parents pulled 75 students out of school, Russell said. Russell said the mystery was solved after she brought everyone in the school together in the auditorium to explain what was going on.

"The kid was sitting there as I'm describing this (report of a student with a suspicious package) and he's thinking, 'Oh, my gosh, they're talking about my burrito.'" Afterward, eighth-grader Michael Morrissey approached her. "He said, 'I think I'm the person they saw,'" Russell said.

The burrito was part of Morrissey's extra-credit assignment to create commercial advertising for a product. "We had to make up a product and it could have been anything. I made up a restaurant that specialized in oddly large burritos," Morrissey said. After students heard the description of what police were looking for, he and his friends began to make the connection. He then took the burrito to the office.

"The police saw it and everyone just started laughing. It was a laughter of relief," Morrissey said. "Oh, and I have a new nickname now. It's Burrito Boy."

I'm with you, Principal Russell, really hard to know whether to laugh or cry.

Thursday, April 28, 2005

The Old Ballgame

It seems quite fortuitous that the day Don Dokken scores tickets to the Dodgers game there is an article in the L.A. Times food section about the great new food at Dodger Stadium. Fancy pizza, garlic fries, margaritas, louisiana sausage, Panda Express. Yum! We get to Dodger Stadium and there is a sign saying the game is sold out. We do not know why. Although a co-worker of mine who has season tickets actually bought special loge seats for this game. Something about the Diamondbacks and Sean Green's butt. But Don Dokken is concerned about the sold out status because the last time he went to a sold out game it took four hours (or maybe it was four innings) to get a beer. So he gets in line as soon as we walk through the door and I sit in my seat and wait and wait and wait.

In fact, at one point I think I might even be in the wrong seat and almost call him on the cell. Meanwhile, the second I sit down, some guy walks by selling the very item I covet - the pizza. Except when Don Dokken finally arrives he tells me that it is not the new fancy pizza but the same old stuff they have always sold. What a disaster....at the third inning, I go stand in line for garlic fries. As I'm waiting, I get a text message from my co-worker in the loge seats "Go Dodgers," he says. I write back, "Waiting for garlic fries. What's the score anyway?"

The fries are gross and greasy and greasy. I also bring Don Dokken a beer. $5.75 for the fries, $7.00 for the beer. Let's not even talk about the $10 for parking. Those Dodger people must be rich! Things have heated up in the many centuries that I was waiting in line. There is a beach ball being bandied about in our section. The beach ball bonks me in the head and goes straight to the devil kid standing in the aisle who looks to be the instigator of the whole beach ball thing. In his attempt to sock the ball up, he hits Don Dokken who spills his beer all over himself and on me. But mostly on him. And the scary thing is that the devil kid just laughs. And the devil kid's father just laughs. And did I mention that beer cost $7.00? I mean things happen at baseball games - beer spills, ice cream melts, peanut shells drop. The people around us passed napkins over, that was helpful. But I am really scared about the future of this country. You let a devil kid get away with causing people to spill their beers and the next step is animal torture and the next step after that is serial killing. We are doomed.

But the best of humanity is yet to come. The seats in front of us are empty and, seizing the opportunity, some young guy and his gal come and swoop them up. But the guy is intent on letting his friend,who is somewhere else in the stadium, know the great seats he has scored (and actually we were up in the reserved level, not like we had loge seats to see Sean Green's butt or anything) and so calls this buddy on the cell phone and stands up so the guy can be sure to find him in the sold-out Dodger Stadium. At this point the game has turned good but since the guy in front of us keeps standing, we miss the excitement and Don Dokken speculates on what might have happened and then I keep turning to the guy next to me and say "Wha' happened?" And the guy next to me starts ranting and raving about how they took a simple game and made it complicated and it's all run by computers and statistics now. Blah, blah, blah.

And finally the buddy of the guy who stands the whole game comes trotting up with his young, fat, and stupid son. Sorry to be so mean about the kid but just calling it as I see it. After a short time the two men want to wander off and leave the kid with the girlfriend but the kid refuses to stay. So I am sure he witnessed the drug deal that went down between the two of them because just as they get back the guy who stands the whole game and his girlfriend leave. And are soon replaced by the wife/girlfriend and the younger child of the alleged drug dealer (or dealee). The wife/girlfriend whines scaringly to the younger child that she is afraid and tells him he must move down one seat. When he does not move down right away, she very forcibly moves him. At this point, I am thinking about my mandated reporter status and whether I will need to be calling the Department of Children and Family Services.

However, it is now the 7th inning stretch and after forcing Don Dokken to listen to me sing "Take Me Out To The Ballgame" as loud and offkey as I can, I decide it is time to leave.

Wednesday, April 27, 2005

Time To Buy A Mac

Big hoopla going on over Microsoft's paying $20,000 a month in consulting fees to Ralph Reed, a religious right conservative (and former Christian Coalition head), who worked on both Bush campaigns. Then they pulled their support for Washington's anti-discrimination against gays bill saying they are no longer going to get involved in "social issues" Not that the evil of Microsoft is any big surprise (although I think of Bill Gates and his foundation as being socially correct and the word is that he's an atheist so what exactly his company is doing all tangled up with the religious right is unclear.) Kudos to Eric for insisting on installing Firefox on my laptop. Now if I can just get off the pesky Microsoft Office products...

Tuesday, April 26, 2005

Paper Or Plastic

Just a tad late for Earth Day but here's some environmental stuff that I heard in the last few days:

- on the paper versus plastic issue, it's neither. You should buy those canvas bags and you can pass them down to your children and grandchildren. Unless you spill milk in them. Or break eggs in them. Or melt ice cream in them.

- only 10% of plastic that you put in the recycle bin is actually recycled. Yeah, I know, sorry but you've been pretty much doing it for nothing. Not that I could begin to explain the science but there's not that much they can do with the plastic. Aluminium on the other hand is quite the opposite. Something like 70% or 80% of that is recycled, mostly overseas. So all you health fanatics out there? If you care about the planet, stop being selfish, forget about those eight eight-ounce glasses of water and start drinking the Coke and Pepsi.

- Gale Norton and George W. Bush lie. They talk about how small the actual area that they want to use for drilling oil in Alaska is and neglect to mention all the other land they will destroy with the pipeline and other things necessary to drill for oil in Alaska. Well here:
Norton was the oil industry’s best friend in the most recent debate over drilling for oil in the fragile coastal plain of the Arctic National Wildlife Refuge. In speeches across the country, she twisted the truth to ballyhoo drilling as a public-policy marvel, claiming it would promote America’s energy independence, strengthen national security and create three-quarters of a million jobs -- all while leaving the refuge and its teeming herds of caribou, flocks of migratory birds and denning polar bears virtually undisturbed. But one of Norton’s own Interior agencies, the U.S. Geological Survey, had estimated that the amount of oil most likely to be extracted would satisfy U.S. demand for only six months -- hardly enough to even dent the need for foreign supplies. Her claim about jobs came from a 12-year-old, oil-industry-funded study that has been thoroughly discredited by at least five independent analyses. As for the footprint of oil development, Norton insisted that it would be a mere 2,000 acres. But that figure takes into account only the oil drilling pads themselves and doesn’t include the industrial complex that would spread like a spider’s web across virtually the entire coastal plain -- the hundreds of miles of roads and feeder pipelines, refineries, living quarters for hundreds or thousands of workers, landfills, water reservoirs, docks and gravel causeways, production plants, gas processing facilities, seawater treatment plants, power plants and gravel mines. As ARCO’s Ronnie Chappell acknowledged to the Los Angeles Times, "We can’t develop [oil] fields and keep wilderness." (Click on title for source)
Now go and buy a Prius.

Friday, April 22, 2005

North Carolina Blues

When my ab fab real estate partner, Helen, and I bought a little condo in North Carolina, it was rented to a student. The condo is near the university and is basically student housing so no surprise when our tenant moved out when her lease ended. We thought she would be quickly replaced with another student. But the Property Manager (PM) we hired just did not put the time needed into looking for another tenant. And it stayed empty and empty and empty. So we fired the PM. And before the contract was even effective, our new PM called to say he found a tenant for us, a chef "in the fancy restaurant at the mall across the street." We were very pleased because we figured that the chef could cook us nice meals when we went to visit our property because, gosh, we are such nice landlords.

But then no check came.

So the other day I call. Big sigh from the PM.

"I have your file on my desk," he says. "I was going to write you a letter but it's just so much to explain. Remember I told you about the chef? Well, for one, he was really a waiter. And he only gave me part of the deposit. Usually I wouldn't give him the key but I was so pleased to have found you someone so quickly. But within days he said he wanted to move because the noise from the college kids was driving him crazy. I told him he couldn't do that, we had an agreement, he owed first and last month's rent but the next thing I knew he was gone."

With the PM's only key. So the PM breaks a window to get in to change the locks. Don't they have locksmiths in North Carolina? I'm not sure about the new PM's problem solving skills but what do I know?

So then, the PM continues, a Chinese man approaches him about the unit. There does not seem to be any pertinance in the ethnicity of the man and my guess is there's a good possibility he was something other than Chinese because, not to do my own stereotyping here, but even though it's called North Carolina, it's still the South and I'll say no more. Except that I told Helen that whenever I talk to anyone from the South they talk so slow that I remind myself to slow down because even if I talk at my normal speed I'll seem hyper to them. And Helen told me "Just because they talk slow doesn't mean they're stupid." I always forget her mother's from the south.

Anyway, the "Chinese" man is looking for a place for him and his wife, who is opening a manicure shop in the mall across the street. (And if Helen and I had known this was all going down we would have squealed at the thought of free manicures when we come to visit because we are the best landlords ever.) But he wants a month to month in case his wife doesn't like the place. And the PM thinks, oh well, what the heck and says okay. Well, the wife comes to see the place and it's just not what she has in mind so they are gone after a month.

The good news is that there is a check on the way for all these people's first and only months' rents. And I told the PM that three times is a charm. And soon it will be time for the students to make their housing decisions for next semester. So if you all know anyone heading for UNC Chapel Hill or someone who works in the mall across the street, just give me a holler.

Wednesday, April 20, 2005


Last night Eric and I ran into the guy who originally rescued my pup after finding him tied to a cinder block with a half eaten McDonalds hamburger just out of his reach. And then all last night I kept having this nightmare that Eric, the pup, and I went camping somewhere far, far away with this guy and the pup went missing. One minute he was with us and the next minute he wasn't. In real life, I'd wake up and the pup would be right there snuggled up next to me and then I would fall back asleep and the same dream would continue. In the dream, Eric and the guy who originally rescued my pup, go looking for him. I meanwhile go into a shop and talk to a ranger who says "You should have asked me first. My wife has a dog she found at home. Pregnant, right?" Wrong. (Oh and this was a point at which I woke up and had the presence or actually fuzziness of mind to marvel at my brain's ability to create the ranger character with such snappy dialogue and all while asleep.) In my dream once again back where I left off, I use my cell phone that I note has a low battery to call home and see if anyone has called to say they found the pup but there are no messages. Then Eric gets back and I hear the pitter patter of four feet but when I look it's not my dog, but some scruffy terrier and I wonder if Eric thinks this could really be a replacement. My next plan is to leave some of my clothes outside our cabin and hope the pup finds his way back. But I wake up for the last time before that plan is implemented. The pup has gotten nothing but hugs and hugs and hugs this morning (yeah, like that's any different from any other morning....)

Tuesday, April 19, 2005

Public Library Field Trip

This past weekend, while the plumber was at my house ( because let's just face it when is the plumber NOT at my house?), I snuck out to pick up my new pair of glasses. I was in a rush to get back to the aforementioned plumber but the eyeglasses guy insisted on adjusting, well, actually, tightening the glasses and I should have just ignored him and rushed right back home to the plumber who always seems to be there because the new glasses are gouging my head. They are making new holes on the bridge of my nose and behind my ears. And I have a headache all the time.

I'm supposed to be reading this 48 page document with the teeniest, tiniest print ever for work. I tried all yesterday afternoon but with the head hurting and the distractions abounding, I got to page nine. We were warned that today we were having a fire drill in our building at 10:30 so at 10:00 I decided to take the document from far-sighted people's hell and walk down the street to the public library.

I have never been to this library and it's fairly brand new and very pretty with lots and lots of books. But the best is that it had a corner with a couch and comfortable chairs. It was kind of like Starbucks without the coffee and, thankfully, without the hyper-caffeinated loud and annoying people. As I was sitting there reading, these two adorable children who I would guess to be five and three asked their mom, who was looking something up on the catalog computer, if they could sit in one of the chairs in my corner. Which they did. And then they started staring at me. Because we all know there is nothing more fascinating than watching me read. Or maybe they were watching the glasses digging bigger and bigger holes in my head. They were very cute and well behaved. And everytime I looked up there they were staring at me.

Which was a way more enjoyable experience than walking by the Children's Library room and seeing a man leading his child around on a leash. Well, actually, it was more like the way it is when I walk my dog with the child leading him but still the child did sadly look like a little pup the way he'd run up to a book or a window and do the doggy equivalent of sniffing. I really wanted to go up to the Dad (or would the more appropriate term be "owner"?) and say, "Dude, this is not an amusement park. Where the heck do you think your child's going to go off to in the Children's Library room of this small and orderly public library?"

But I'm a big chicken and the fire drill was over so I just went back to work.

Monday, April 18, 2005

Freaks and Geeks

I've been prothelytizing to everyone I can think of about "Freaks and Geeks" a show that was on many years ago and got cancelled after one season. I remember people protesting at the time. I just didn't understand why but now I do. The show takes place in a Michigan suburb in 1981 (although it actually seems more '70's than '80's) and centers around two cliques - the freaks and the geeks. And at the center of each clique is a member of the Weir family - Lindsey Weir is 16 or 17, a former "Mathlete" who has taken to wearing an army jacket and hanging out with the stoners. They explain her transition from good girl to bad girl wannabe by saying she had a hard time with her grandmother's death. I say no explanation needed - let's just call it teenage angst. In her posse is Daniel and Kim, Nick, and Ken. Daniel and Kim are an on again off again couple. They refer often to how Daniel was held back and is like the oldest guy in high school. I keep wondering if it's because the actor, James Franco, is way older than his part calls for. I could be wrong about this but, if I am, that guy is going to need botox galore to continue in this biz. He is not aging well.

And Nick. I love Nick. He is a total doofus. He wants to be a drummer really badly but he's terrible at it and he's in love with Lindsey and sang "Lady" to her on one of their first dates. Then later he wrote a song for her called "Lady L." Oh my God.

The freaks do all the things I did in high school like listen to "Dark Side of the Moon," go to laser light shows, leave campus for lunch and go to Denny's (although for me it was Cantor's Deli.) That's why I say it feels more like the '70's than '80's but whatever. Oh, and in the last episode I watched, Nick referred to his Maverick which is the car I drove in the late '70's. Oh, I wish I had a scanner and I could post a picture of that car. It was loaded down with "Save the Whales" and "Question Authority" bumper stickers. Nick's Maverick probably has Rush, The Who, and pot leaf symbol bumper stickers.

On the geek side, is Lindsey's younger brother Sam who is 14 but looks and acts more like a 12 year old. His sidekicks are Neal, a Jewish ventriliquist (yeah, those dummies are scary - they rate right up there with mimes in my book) and Bill, kind of your stereotypical nerd with thick glasses and a peanut allergy. They do all the things I did not do in high school like shooting off rockets and wearing Star War pajamas and playing with vertriliquist dummies.

There are some great other characters too. I love Mrs. Weir. She is so not liking seeing her babies grow up. There's this episode where it's Halloween and Mrs. Weir is all excited and singing "Monster Mash" at the breakfast table and asking Sam what is costume is going to be and talking about how much fun she and Lindsey are going to have passing out cookies. Sam and Lindsey both look horrified. And, yeah, cookies? By the 1970's no one in my neighborhood would have accepted any home baked goods. Those had razor blades in them. Oh, poor Mrs. Weir. So stuck in the 60's. And then there's Millie, Lindsey's Christian childhood friend, who keeps trying to get Lindsey to come back to the mathletes. There is an episode when Lindsey experiments with marijuana and she sees Millie who says "You're on the pot, aren't you?" and she says she recognizes the signs because she went to a Seals and Croft concert. Ha!

Okay, have I been convincing? Time to go add "Freaks and Geeks" to your netflix list.

Friday, April 15, 2005

No Good Deed Goes Unpunished

I have been egregiously used by the company I work for which has led to my receiving a letter from George W. Bush. And I am contemplating sending my own letter to the CEO to complain because W. ends his letter "May God bless you, and may God continue to bless America." Letters like this should not be sent to the workplace because I really almost had to vomit. And I got so upset that I was ranting and raving strenuously in the hallway and then stormed into my boss' office while she was having a meeting.

Here's what happened: my company started this program where you fill out some paperwork and talk about the organizations you volunteer for and how many hours you volunteered last year and in return I was told they would send money to those organizations. Yippee! What they didn't tell me was that they were sending this information (my volunteer hours) to some vague organization called the President's Council on Service and Civic Participation which has something to do with the Corporation for National and Community Service and also something to do with USA Freedom Corps ("Make a Difference. Volunteer." And their logo is a funky US flag replica.)

So I get a letter from the President's Council (signed by Bob Dole and John Glenn, the honorary co-chairs), a certificate with my name on it which is the frigging ugliest certificate I've ever seen in that it includes a background shot of the ugliest, scariest eagle I've ever seen, the aforementioned letter from the Prez, and one of these pins.

About the pins. There are three of them. I got the one in the middle which is silver. And George W. says in his letter to me "I urge you to continue serving your neighbors and earn a Gold Award." Way to be motivational, George. You are right - the silver is just not good enough. I'm going to run right out and serve me some neighbors.

But here's what really got me mad. He says, "In January 2002, I called on all Americans to dedicate at leat two years - or 4,000 hours - over the course of their lives to serve others at home or abroad. I congratulate you and all Americans who have answered this call and have earned a Silver Award from the President's Council." So here's my letter to him:

Hey George W.:
Let's be clear. While you were sitting around at Yale doing cocaine? I was volunteering. While you were dodging the draft and avoiding reporting in to the National Guard? I was volunteering. While your daddy was busy covering up your DUI? I was volunteering. While your wife was accidentally killing people with her car? I was volunteering (okay, that was a low blow - it was a terrible, terrible accident.) I know I'm sounding very high and mighty here but the point I am trying to make is that you have absolutely nothing to do with my volunteering. I was not answering your call. I have been volunteering probably since I was in the womb because I learned volunteering from my family, not from you.

I can not accept your ugly Eagle certificate or your blessing from God.


I am hoping to sell the pin on ebay.

Thursday, April 14, 2005

Landscape Challenge

Out Of Focus Fountain
Posted by Hello

Okay, not the best picture of the new yard but I was scared to walk on the brand new sod. There will be more pictures later. As with all my home improvement or maintenance projects this one has me filled with angst. But it's turning out okay. Just two mishaps: (1) while they were planting, they somehow disconnected my lights and (2) I can't figure out how to turn on the out of focus fountain. The landscaper said something about sticking my hand in the water, perfectly safe but I'm going to wait until someone with a death wish comes over and connects it for me.

And one more thing. I picked out from the internet a picture of the pot I wanted and now the landscaper is saying he doesn't know what color it is and I have to drive out to El Monte where I bought the fountain to look through their catalog and choose a color. For a stupid pot. And I have to do it soon because the plants have already been purchased. Soon I will be taking Stephanie's advice and buying a nice little condo.

Wednesday, April 13, 2005

For Your Next Road Trip

Or if you're stuck in traffic...

Did you know fake trees disguise our cell phone towers? Actually I think I did know that but then I forgot. And I am so unobservant I probably pass by a ton of them a day. Fake palm fronds look out...I am on to you.

Tuesday, April 12, 2005

Meet-Up in New York

On my last day in New York, my friend Jane took the train from Connecticut and we spent a wonderful day together going to the new MOMA, seeing a play, having dinner, and then ending it all by attending a Democracy for America meet-up. This group is nation (world?) wide and started out as Dean for America. Well, I've described it a little bit here.

So why do people in New York seem smarter and more involved locally than people in Los Angeles? We heard a speech from a man who is running for the office of Public Advocate. What does the Public Advocate do? They can "introduce legislation, will lobby for the people's interests in government...investigate mismanagement, neglect, and corruption in city agencies, and provide solutions to those problems." This guy, Norman Siegel, would some day like this position to be national. Jane and I fell a little in love.

And then we heard from Bill Perkins who is a councilman running for Manhattan Borough President. He talked about his success conquering the rats in New York (yes, the four legged kind) and childhood asthma. And there was much talk about ballot types and the proposed new stadium for the Jets.

Okay, so I haven't been to a Democracy for America meet-up in Los Angeles for a long time. But from what I gather from their emails and website and other people is that it is never about Los Angeles policy. So I got back to my hotel room and couldn't sleep and made a list of everything going on county and state wide that I think the local Democratic groups should be tackling and then I emailed them to Jane as I was riding in the taxi to the airport. So here it is:
  • hospital closures and nursing shortage
  • ambassador hotel preservation vs building badly needed school
  • education - do we support pay for performance for our teachers?
  • electricity
  • 30000 children in foster care
  • security issues at LAX
  • traffic
  • homeless - what's going to happen to the downtown homeless as downtown gets more gentrified?
  • what's going on with the funds from the millionaire tax for mental health? What kind of piece of that is LA going to get and what are we going to do with it?
I'm sure there's more. And I'm sure we have our own rat/childhood asthma problems as well. So now I have my mandate and I just need to find a meet-up to join.

Monday, April 11, 2005

Dinner With The Radiologist

A couple of weeks ago I was in San Francisco and stayed at the Mark Hopkins hotel. I had already eaten dinner when I checked into my room but then a friend called and said I had to go to the Top of the Mark which is the bar (at the top) with an extremely impressive and beautiful view of San Francisco. I was hesitant to go by myself but got up all my nerve and it was really no big deal because there was a woman radiologist by herself and later an Italian businessman by himself. So you see there are always people at hotel bars traveling alone for business. And the view was amazing.

The radiologist was from New York and I started talking about my very favorite vegetarian restaurant, Zen Palate on 46th and 9th, and she said there were way better vegetarian restaurants in New York and that when I came she would take me to one.

By the way, I did not like the Italian guy. He did not appear to have much of a sense of humor although it could have been due to the language difference. So I left the bar pretty quickly and the radiologist told me later that they thought I had gone to the bathroom and they waited and waited and waited for me. She also later told me that on her flight home the flight attendant called for a doctor because a woman in first class was having trouble breathing. The radiologist came forward only after no one else did because, being a radiologist, she did not feel she was the best person to deal with a breathing problem. The co-pilot asked her if they should land at the nearest airport but, after talking to the woman, she decided that was not necessary but asked that an ambulance be waiting when they landed at their destination. As the radiologist was walking off the plane, a fellow passenger came up to her and told her that he was an anesthesiologist and that she shouldn’t have come forward because malpractice insurance wouldn’t cover her if she was sued. This made my sister very angry because he was far more qualified to help the woman than a radiologist and she looked up the case law and found him to be wrong.

On my second night in New York, the radiologist and I went to this restaurant. She started telling me that she and her fiancé had been looking at wedding places over the weekend but she was not convinced they were going to get married because she had read his therapy diary. The reasoning gets a little vague and I started having trouble listening because (a) I couldn’t believe she read his therapy diary, (b) nothing she told me she read in it sounded alarming, (c) she really shouldn’t have been reading his therapy diary, and (d) I never heard of a therapy diary. What is it anyway? Then she told me that she’s thirty-nine years old and really worried that it’s too late for her to have children. And then and then and then she started to cry!

Well, just yesterday my mother and sister told me that Dr. Phil would say that I was NOT “a safe place to land” but I think people’s first impressions of me are that I’m nicer than I really am. I tried really hard and said things like “well, you know, the world is probably going to end any day now anyway so what’s the point of having children?” and “the great thing about being alive today is that there are so many options for women who want to have children.” I guess I did okay because the last thing she said to me is that if she does end up getting married, I’ll be invited.

Sidebar: I worked really hard on this entry early this morning and then when I went to save it Blogger's server went down and it was lost. So this is a second rate, very paltry re-creation and I have learned to blog offline. So sorry you missed out on my original brilliance...

Friday, April 08, 2005

Ativan Times Three Report

I am here to say that Ativan times three (or even two and a half) works! On the way there, I told the woman next to me that I was heavily medicated. She asked if I wanted her to get my meals for me and I said yes. So I'd wake up every once in a while and there would be food. Or I'd wake up and there would be some turbulence and I'd think "can't be bothered" and go back to sleep. The time flew (get it, flew?) by. Wonderful flight.

The way back was good but not as great. For one, it takes longer flying east to west. I am not sure if that is due to route or wind but if anyone out there knows, please share, por favor. I did not tell the woman next to me this time about being medicated and she did not offer to ask for my food but it seemed to arrive anyway. Don't ask me what it was, though. I do remember at one point the woman next to me said that she wished she could sleep on planes. I told her I was medicated. Then I got all alarmed and asked if I had been snoring. I fell asleep before I heard the answer.

The down side to Ativan times three is if you have to drive when you reach your destination. I think I did okay on the hour ride home in rush hour traffic but I will leave that evaluation up to the many people I called while driving as I don't remember most of the conversations (or exactly who I called). I do know that I was talking to my sister about going to Whole Foods. Well, Whole Foods bought out Mrs. Goochs about a hundred years ago but I kept getting the name confused and at one point said "Mrs. Whole Foods" which caused great laughter from the sister. I think by the end I just gave up and called it "Mrs. Goochs." The sad thing is that was when I was pulling into their parking lot and stareing right at their sign.

More New York reports to follow...

Sunday, April 03, 2005

Ativan Times Three

Well it's almost time for me to get on an airplane again, this time a long, long, unbearable plane ride to New York. But I got some good news. After several people advised me on different medications I should ask my doctor for, I actually called her (the doc) and told her that what I really wanted was the feeling that someone had hit me over the head with a mallet the second I sat down and for me to only regain consciousness once the plane lands. Or maybe as it's landing because I really do like a good landing. She did not laugh. And then she rejected several of the drugs I suggested and told me that I should just double up on my ativan. And then she said, "You know what? You can even take three." Wow, three!

So now I'm kind of looking forward to the trip even though my mother told me she does not like me to take drugs. And someone else told me (or maybe that was my mother, too?) that I should either inform the flight attendant or pin a note to myself that says I will be heavily medicated and make sure someone wakes me up for the landing.

But, hey, it does have all the makings of a good trip. I will be staying at this hotel. And I'm going to see two plays. And I'm going to the brand new MOMA. And I'm having dinner with the radiologist I met when I was in San Francisco a few weeks ago. Oh, and yeah, attending a fascinating seminar for my work called "Advanced Concepts in Executive Compensation." I'll tell you all about it when I get back.

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