For Memorial Purposes

Since Memorial Day just passed (and I was too lazy to write anything yesterday) I'm going to use that as my theme for tonight. Although instead of just writing my thoughts on veterans or America, I thought I'd do something a little bit more personal mixed in with the basic principles associated with the military: teamwork, bravery, responsibility, and compassion.

I realized I am slowly entering that age where names and faces of my past are becoming fuzzy. The lines between what ACTUALLY happened and what I think are starting to disintegrate, and so in an effort to help my problem I am going to utilize this web-diary thing to jot down some memories so that they are forever documented (and hopefully if I can pin down these thoughts it will help to always anchor additional ones).

So, in the vein of remembering what our heroic soldiers stand for, here are the things I hope to always remember...

1. Coach/Mr. Ullmeyer- My cross-country coach. He might actually be the reason I started to think about this as a good topic. I was jogging the other day and still trying to remember the breathing techniques he taught me. Granted, I lasted for just the season, and was consistently bringing up the rear, it still felt awesome to be part of something (especially since my high school years mostly consisted of trying to evaporate into the background).

2. My sister calling me brave- I doubt she would remember this, but for some reason I never forgot (and hopefully now I really never will). On one of our many little family road trips, we went to a water park (most likely Dorney Park and Wildwater Kingdom). Anyway, as usual I put up a fight to go on any of the slides. I was (and still to this day) terrified of heights AND losing control so choosing to toss my slippery body down an even MORE slippery chute didn't really rank high on my To-Do list. However, being with my sisters I definitely wanted to keep up. And after a few I started to gain some confidence (once I figured that the bolts holding the tube in place weren't going to pop-out suddenly and send me 3 stories to the ground), I actually started to have fun. So much so that I VOLUNTEERED to go on the next big slide. Without hesitation I climbed to the top of the stairs and before I knew it I was careening back all the way to the pool below. Truthfully, I was a little scared when I felt myself lifting up due to some unexpected drops, but the fact that my big sister Hillary told me she was proud was well worth it.

3. Marshmallow- my pet bunny. There was a time when we were kids that we all decided we wanted our own pets. We loved our dog, Abby, but I guess her novelty began to wain (especially since she wasn't allowed upstairs, in the living room, OR family room). I can't remember who got theirs first, but Hillary had her pet bird, Iago, while Lindsay had Bernard the Hamster (and yes they are both characters from Disney movies--does that prove we were brainwashed or the fact that Hillary had over 20 Disney figurines in her room...or maybe that I used to watch the promotional video they sent us like an actual movie...yeah, you got us you evil evil corporation). Anyway, since they had their feathered and furry friends (and I was sick of flushing two-day old dead goldfish) my mother finally promised me a rabbit for my birthday. Before that time, however, we had some tragedies: Iago was found dead at the bottom of his cage one morning, while Bernard made a truly miraculous escape (only to be found alive in our neighbors garbage can while they were taking out the trash) but died a few days later--there's something very poignant about that, or maybe I'm still hung up on the Lost ending. Anyway, to soothe their pains (or just to butt in on MY thing) they got rabbits as well: Hillary's was a grey and white one she named Thumper (stick your royalties up your ass Disney). Lindsay's, a chocolate brown one, had a Prince/The Artist Formerly Known as Prince thing going on since she changed the name from Brownie to Fuzzhead every other week. Mine was simple- Marshmallow- named so b/c of her all white fur. When I first spotted her she looked one of those magician rabbits, yet she was so soft and fluffy she just reminded me of the white candy. Also, she had these crazy hot-pink eyes (which I guess means she was albino), which def sold me. I used to love to put her on my chest and stroke her while I was reading on our back porch during the summer. But as tends to happen, the reality of actually caring for an animal began to set in. We neglected them a bit and then one day my mom told me Marshmallow was sick. I was upset but didn't know what to do. I went out to stroke her from time to time, but to see her look so skittish and yellow (no longer the vibrant white) broke my heart so much I couldn't bear going out to see her. Finally, my mom came to pick me up from school one bright afternoon, and turned around in the driver's seat.


"Honey, Marshmallow died."

Of course I cried a bit, feeling not just the loss but a huge amount of guilt. I felt responsible for her death (ironically due to my irresponsibility). Lately I've been really pushing for us to get a dog, which makes me think alot about ol' Marshmallow. Hopefully the mistakes I made with her won't be repeated, but I'm sure the love will be.

4. Remembering to never judge a book...- There was a girl in high school named Julie Hoffmann that sat near me in French class. She had honey blond hair and always wore thick black eyeliner. She was new, so since there was an open seat near me Ms. Ennis assigned her there. We never spoke too much, only occasionally when she had to pass something to me or borrow a pencil. But when we did lightly chat I figured she was nice enough. As it turned out, she was also in my English class, though we sat further away. I noticed some kids chuckling and realized they were doing so at Julie. I felt awful, but being that I was pretty low on the social totum pole myself, I said nothing (I probably even joined in, knowing my cowardice). And when we found out that she had died suddenly in an awful car accident, I felt I could never really forgive myself. I tried to assuage my guilt thinking I never really knew her, so what was I supposed to do? I had that same laissez-faire attitude with another student at school. It was right after the Columbine tragedies and one student was accused of planning to harm the school. Wanting to appear under control while at the same time preventing any law suits we were unofficially given liberal leave, which many of us took advantage of--only to go to the nearest hang out and talk about who it was. I joined in, like a lemming off a cliff, into the badmouthing and criticizing. I thought I wouldn't think about it again until I actually met the guy, and realized how foolish I had been. We ended up having mutual friends and began to hang out once in a while. He is not only one of the most laid back yet passionate people I have ever met, he is also the bravest. He enlisted into the army and went overseas for long extended periods of time, often in frightening areas. It makes me sick to think how I could have been so close-minded and judgmental when I didn't even know what a tremendous guy he is. I have sadly lost touch with him since I moved to Baltimore, but I always think of him whenever I see the posters or commercials for the army...and wonder what lucky person is getting a lesson on acting or horror movie trivia from him.

There are tons of memories that I would like to lock up somewhere safe, but I figured this is a good start- and it goes along with the Memorial Day theme, don't you think?

If this one was a little on the depressing side, fear not. I had to get this one off my pathetically small chest, but I got a whole bag of crazy for youall. Until tomorrow then fan-a-reenos!

Urine Trouble

Yes yes I know, this may be the most tasteless blog I've written. But I figure, who am I kidding? I'm not writing The Grapes of Wrath here, and I have the rest of my life to be buttoned-up and old. I promise, I'll try to use as much innuendo and as many puns as possible. And if you still don't like it, well, I'm allowed to have a miss every now and then. And if you are REALLY offended, well...you prob don't get me.

So you with me? Let's begin.

Despite the fact that I'm not a fan of camping, bugs, or not showering every day, I still don't consider myself a girly-girl. I'm clueless with fashion, I don't have to get my nails and hair done every month, and with a few exceptions I have a small tolerance for chick flicks. However, when I've had to go, I'm not above doing it in the woods, behind a dumpster, or even off a building (yes, a building). And any of these times were done so out of absolute necessity. Allow me to explain...

One time my sister, cousin, and a few others I think were tailgating at PNC Bank Arts Center in Jersey for a concert. We ended up parking WAY beyond the center, pulled out some beers and chairs and began getting hyped for the show. After a few we realized we had to go desperately. Of course, the nearest Port-O-Potty was a good distance away; the woods however was only a few yards. So there we were, armed with a red cup and a person standing keeping watch. Not my classiest moment, but I can tell you I felt a helluvalot better. It was also the first time I really felt a break in the chain of being a "girl". Usually guys have the upper-hand (pun intended?) in peeing outside, but we proved it can be done.

The next time was on a return trip from dancing at the gay bar in D.C. My friends Lauren, Erica, Mike, and I huddled back into the car and began trying to figure out our way back. As luck would have it we realized we were getting lost. Meanwhile, I felt nature calling and it was not leaving a message. We pulled off into a gas station to gain our bearings, and I hopped out looking for the bathroom. We seemed to have found the only NON 24 hour gas station that exists, and after spending as many seconds I could finding the bathroom I ended up crouching behind the dumpster. Did I feel like total white-trash? Certainly. Did I feel better? Hell YEAH!

Finally, my proudest/most shameful experience was on the Fourth of July last year. Joe's friends were hosting a little barbecue on the roof of a building downtown. It was kind of a pain in the ass getting up there, but it was well worth it. We had a gorgeous view of the city, burgers on the grill, and of course, beer. After only a couple I started feeling the urge and began looking around for a solution. I could try getting down and going all the way through to the nearest bathroom (but if getting up there was scary, trying to get back down--with a small buzz going--seemed a little too treacherous). His friend suggested I just go ahead and pee over the side of the building since it overlooked an alley. At first I refused. But as the minutes, and urine, mounted I started getting desperate. To make a gross story short, I did what I had to do. And even though I might have lost a little self-respect, I saved myself from a dangerous climb down, as well as further damage to my kidneys.

It's not really fair that guys can go anywhere at anytime. Girls have just as many urges and we sometimes need to go wherever is most convenient too. Hopefully these tales will allow we girls to urinate united. And for anyone that wants to judge, let she who has not peed in a place other than a cushy bathroom cast the first roll of t.p.

The Water Waiter

You know how they say that need is the mother of invention (at least I think that's the way that saying goes). Well, it really is true. On several occasions I will be doing something and right as I'm getting frustrated at it not working well or properly, I really want to look up into a camera and say, "There's got to be another way!"

Except what I actually need isn't around...at least, not yet. I've come up with some invention-ideas that, I think at least, are brilliant. Here are a few of my favorites...(oh yeah, and if anyone out there gets a hold of these ideas and actually CREATES them, I want a cut...I've got all 5 of these readers as witnesses)

1. The Water Waiter- This was prob the first idea I ever had. I remember it came me to while visiting my Nana and Pop's pool. They had all kinds of water toys like inner tubes and rafts, and usually my sisters and I would race for who would get what. And then we would proceed to float around for hours...except when we were hungry or thirsty. I always used to wish we had a floating cooler. But I didn't stop there. I thought about attaching small cup-holder things that would detach and had a small fan on each. They'd be powered much like a remote control car. A person could maneuver their drink right to them! Think about it...you're relaxing but really want a soda? Well, a person puts one in the cup holder and then it comes right to you! It's a water waiter! Yeah i know what the cons are: you need someone to actually put your drink in the holder, you need to remotely control a cup holder, and you need to put the control somewhere...and I'm sure there are scores of other things I'm not thinking of.

2. The Carpet Stick- Unlike the Water Waiter, this one Joe and I actually tried to make a prototype. I thought of this when I'd be vacuuming and noticed that our vacuum wasn't sucking up the smallest pieces of lint and hair. It was so annoying, all I kept thinking about was how I needed a lint brush. And then it hit me...I needed a giant lint stick roller that I could use on the carpet to pick up what the vacuum left behind. It seemed like such an obvious solution, yet I had never seen one. I told Joe and after he agreed at its ingeniousness, we went out to the Home Depot to buy a paint roller stick, a smaller hand-held paint roller, and alot of duct tape. I was all set to make an appointment with Black and Decker when we made a quick stop at Target...and then my hopes came crashing down. Right there in the sponge and broom aisle was EXACTLY what I had in mind. So with a heavy heart, and a speedy return of my supplies, I bought my own invention. And even though it satisfies the need I had, I can't help the pangs of bitterness I feel with each roll on the carpet.

3. The Hug Pillow (a.k.a. "The Huggie")- I thought of this one last night actually (and what sparked this blog). This may sound like Too Much Information, but I have the tendency to put pillows, blankets, or whatever between my knees when I'm trying to sleep. It's something about the pressure points there that makes it uncomfortable for me to sleep without some kind of support. However, I also like sleeping with my arms wrapped around something. I noticed that the shape of the pillows around me were almost a half circle. So what I needed was a circular-shaped pillow! I've tried "body pillows" before but they tend to be just longer pillows. I really want something that kinda cradles your whole body--kinda like a big Hug! (I can't imagine the Snuggie people passing this bad-boy up--be a great addition to bolster their faddish idea).

I doubt any of these get-rich-quick ideas will actually let me get rich or quickly. Besides the fact that I'm lazy, I have no clue on how to actually produce the mechanical aspects of them. Maybe I could just get a job at a think tank that pays me for my ideas. Oh well. Black and Decker, look me up...

Highway Crossing Bott

"Come on! Before they close!" Joe yelled to me from across York Road earlier tonight. At least, that's what I think he was shouting, as it was difficult to tell because of the constant whooshing of cars that separated us. I stood stranded by the car wash on the other side of the road, waiting for a break in the traffic. He finally came closer to the edge and yelled that there was nothing coming for miles. And with a quick glance to confirm (and a big breath of courage), I booked it like Flo Jo, for all 4 secs it took to cross the street. To further solidify that my fears were baseless, Joe proceeded to count the seconds before the next car came along (11 secs if you are wondering).

But it doesn't matter. People have all kinds of fears: heights, spiders, snakes...peaches (yeah, if you ever watched that episode of Maury- pretty sure it was Maury- you would know what I'm talking about. Apparently the girl was freaked out by the skin or something). So is it really so unreasonable that I have a small problem crossing streets? And since I have known a few people who have actually BEEN hit by a car, I'm gonna go ahead and continue to be absurdly cautious.

I don't really know where this fear first developed. I was never hit by a car, I never witnessed someone getting hit by a car, I never had a dog that got hit by a car. And yet, if you walk along with me outside and we come to a point where we need to cross the street, don't be surprised if it takes me an extra 20 min (and I get out some binoculars to check the horizon for headlights) before I budge.

My fellow study abroad friends found that out first hand when we toured around Europe. I had always heard that driving in foreign countries was a little crazier, so naturally my ability to cross the streets worsened. I'd take even longer checking back and forth for signs of cars, and waited like a sprinter waiting for the second the "Walk" sign lit up. As it turned out, in most of the major cities we visited, the driving tendencies weren't so different than the bustling of New York City. I learned fairly quickly the technique of huddling together within a large crowd (somehow the thought of being surrounded by soft bodies which would protect me from a careless driver comforted me..it's sick I know) and moving with them when they crossed the street was useful. For some reason either Alex or Jay has actual video footage of me trying to cross the street in Paris. I'm not sure which is funnier: the fact that it took me actual minutes to do it, or they felt compelled to film it.

After several years, Joe has become quite accustomed to this particular idiosyncrasy. I think it has gone from being a cute thing, to an oddity, to an annoyance, and finally to a defined characteristic. He even often jokes about how he wants to create a game similar to "Frogger " and call it "Highway Crossing Bott." I guess I should be glad that he has managed to accept this quality, but I really should still try to work on it. After all, it can't exactly be fun for people to want to keep moving while I'm stalling.

I guess that's how I tend to be with all things in my life: overly cautious, fear-ridden, and constantly looking to be mowed down. I need to try and be more bold and take a confident step forward, not be so terrified of what's eventually coming down the road. We'll see. In the meantime, I'll keep looking both ways...

Depth Imperception

I'm not THE clumsiest person in the world, but very often I seem to somehow miss the free space and aim right for the hard surface, be it a table, cabinet...wall.

And you would think since I've had glasses since I was 10 my eyes would have acclimated to my surroundings, but as the years progress I think I'm doomed to constantly dodge destruction.

I thought about that just now as I bent over in the shower and smacked my head on the subway tile. Then I did that automatic head jerk thing, as if the wall somehow just appeared and I really expected to go through it.

Something similar happened to me a week ago too, although this one hurt more. I was outside my car and leaning back in to grab my purse when my big-ass forehead hit the top of the car. Then I did that half-whine/half-laugh thing, and hoping to God no one was really watching.

I remember doing THAT same cry/laugh back in England while playing some soccer with my Englishmen buddies Matt and Dave, and Ashley. I slipped on a mud patch and went flying backwards, landing hard on my ass. I might've even started actually crying from the pain, but I'm pretty sure the tears were from laughing too (at least I hope).

Yet despite my accident-proneness, you may be surprised to know I haven't been in that many accidents in my car (knock on wood). And any I've had were just small bumps and scrapes, again, due to my crappy vision and perception.

One time, speaking of Englishman, was when Ashley, Bethany and I had to go pick Matt up from D.C. for a visit back in Baltimore. We were meeting our other friends at a coffee and S'mores cafe called "X and O's" (or as we mistakenly called it for a while, "Xando's"). I was pulling into a spot next to another car when I made the turn too wide and ended up screeching slowly into it.

"Ohh fuuuuck," I said as I tried to pull back out and redo my park job. We all jumped out of the car to check the damage and suddenly the guy in the other car popped out. I was all ready to dig out my registration and insurance info when the guy took a look around and said, "Oh, I did just do a paint-job...Ah, don't worry about it."

I went cold and stood ready for the onslaught of anger and watch my money float away but this attitude I wasn't prepared for. And then we realized what actually WAS floating through the air was probably the explanation. I couldn't believe this guy wasn't going to at least throw a couple of well-chosen curses my way, but then we smelled the wafting scent of pot emanating from his car. Actually, Matt was the first to notice that.

"Did you smell the weed coming from him? No wonder he didn't want to involve the cops," he said.

He seemed extremely calm and jovial, so I thanked him profusely. I didn't care if the guy was shooting heroin, I was just grateful that I saved myself a raise in my insurance, let alone whatever he would've wanted to repair the scratches.

But as I near my birthday I guess I just have to accept that the number of bumps and scrapes I acquired before will undoubtedly continue to grow...just like the thickness of my lens.

Back in the Saddle

My head is kinda poundy (prob b/c if you look at the timestamp from last night's post, it was around 1:50 and didn't actually fall asleep until well after 2, and then got up at 7) so I'm pretty tired and this will prob be a short one.

And since my mind is devoid of a particular topic I think I'll describe another one of my "life as a sit-com" stories: my first time on a horse.

Like many young girls, I was a proud member of the very prestigious organization known as the Girl Scouts. Yes, the camaraderie was nice and I learned that selling dozens of baked goods could lead to earning a brand new stopwatch, but prob the best part of being a girl scout was the trips we went on. On one such trip we went to a dude ranch, complete with a lake with paddle boats, making s'mores, and of course, horses.

I also used to be one of those girls that "loved" horses (despite the fact I'd never been on one and only seen a few) so I was pretty thrilled at having the chance to finally ride one. However, standing by a fence with a horse a hundred yards away and standing right next to one can be a little disarming. This thing was huge! I took a hard gulp and allowed the cowhand help me up. If it was a little dizzying standing near this big animal, being atop it was nothing short of nerve wracking. But since I was among my fellow scouts I wanted to make sure I didn't come off as a wuss. Plus my mom was one of the parents that came along to be a chaperone, so I figured that nothing traumatizing would happen. I prob should've taken the hint when I realized the helmet thing they gave me was a couple sizes too big...

When everyone else was settled on their horses we took off at a gentle amble following the head horsewoman. It started off normal enough (although alot of the magic of the moment was lost when my horse constantly took piss-breaks and I got a nice shot of the horse in front of me pulling off to take a crap).

Meanwhile my helmet kept sliding down over my eyes, and I had to quickly shift it back in place while still holding the reins like my life depended on it. Finally I got annoyed and jerked my hand up....and accidentally jerked the hands with the reins as well...

In a matter of seconds my gentle amble turned to a pretty quick trot as the horse reacted to my hand motion. Through bumps and what I could see beneath my freakin Lord Helmet headgear, I bypassed all the other girls, the chaperones and even past the head leader. She took off after me while I was terrified (and besmirched at the irony that I'd die doing something I always thought I wanted to do) grasping the reins. When she did finally catch up to me she was muttering plenty of expletives and managed to get my horse under control. My mom tried to come up next to me to make sure I was ok, although I'm pretty sure she was trying to suppress her giggles at the same time.

As the saying goes, I did eventually get back on the horse years later and did have a better experience...except for the horse slipping on some rocks while we were going down through the woods, but thats a horse story of a different color...

Alright kiddies, on that note have a great weekend, and I'll see you back here on Monday!

Now Serving...Assholes

I was on line at Wegman's tonight, doing some very late last minute food shopping. I've always wondered if Wegman's requires their employees to do some special customer service training, cuz they are always the friendliest workers. So I wasn't surprised when the check-out lady and I began chatting, and she told me about how she gets some really rude customers.

She explained how she was starting to ring a man up and he tossed his money in front of her. Sensing by his accent she could tell he was foreign so she was willing to let the rude gesture go, when suddenly he demanded she count his money for him. Not asking, "Please miss, I don't know how much money I have," he said, "Count my money." She was taken aback by his command, but she just replied that he needed to count his own money and ignored him for the rest of the transaction. I completely sympathized with her, telling her she ought to have scolded him, and remind him that here in America we have something called "equal rights" and that we don't treat people that way. (She didn't say for sure that his attitude was directed at her because she was woman, but it makes it even MORE fun to get pissed off and angry).

It got me thinking about all my early years at a cash register or on a sales floor. I think it should be required that all people experience sales/retail-work. Not only is it a good base for learning how to manage in the work world, but it really teaches you how to deal with people...especially obnoxious, selfish, overbearing, self-righteous customers. What's more is the bond you develop with your coworkers after dealing with such people. You get through it and then the second they are out the door you and your fellow employees retire to the back room and swap stories by the vending machines.

Since I spent the better part of my teens and 20s in retail I def had a few doozies. Oddly enough, I can' seem to really recall alot of my own, but I remember alot of other people's, especially friends who worked in the restaurant biz (which, by the way, has to be the winner for most assholes per capita that frequent a particular business).

My friends Ashley and Louise both work in a semi-fancy restaurant around here and I still cringe at some of the stories they would tell me. In one case, Louise was relaying the fact that the restaurant's policy prevented the splitting of checks beyond a certain number of people. By merely doing her job she was subjected to ugly stares and cruel remarks, such as, "This is unacceptable" and "We're not starting off on the right foot..." Eww. Another time Ashley, as a hostess, was gently escorting a couple to their table when she lightly tapped the lady's shoulder. She apparently reacted as if Ashley punched her in the side, because she threw a tantrum to their waitress. Just ridiculous.

My only restaurant experience was as a hostess at the nearby Carrabba's, and while most of the time it was uneventful, there were the occasional pains in the ass. My favorite times were when I would be working the door handing out beepers and telling people the wait time. I'd be standing there amidst a crowd of 20 people waiting in line, and when someone who walked in fresh from the street asked me the wait time, I'd tell them "It's gonna be about 40 to 50 min." Usually people accepted it and either put their name down anyway or walked off. However I used to get a sick pleasure out of telling people when it was well over an hour wait. I def had a few people that would get all offended, as if the restaurant was actually completely empty and I was keeping them out just for shits. Every time someone would get all miffed, I just wanted to wave my hand around and say, "It's 7:30 on a Saturday night. What exactly did you expect?"

That's when I actually got a great idea for a reality show. It's kind of like a hidden-camera/"So You Think You Can Dance" kind of thing...Let's call it, "So You Think You Can Do My Job?" Basically the premise is that there are hidden cameras all over the store/restaurant/etc. All night people are keeping tabs on the patrons who are particularly annoying or rude. Before the person is about to leave the camera crew and host spring into their face. The employee (backed by his/her boss) comes forward and explains to the person their faults and challenges them to do their job for a week (I'd say a day, but that might not be enough). If the person makes it through without ANY complaints on their part OR the part of the person THEY are serving, they get some cash prize. If they are caught, then they have to listen to the employees rant...and something else too, maybe they have to go to some kind of rehab.

I'd totally watch that. I think America as a whole needs to get over themselves tout suite, maybe this would help a little. I think we sometimes forget that the people serving us would much rather be ANYWHERE else than where they are right now. Is it really so much to ask to be a little more patient? I'm sure I've had my moments, but I have tried like HELL to make sure not to ever take a bad meal or mistake out on the employee--they are just doing their job and they are HUMAN. Ill def bad mouth them later (Patient First) but I still try to have some empathy for them. After all, we've all been there, right?

Anyway, speaking of self-righteous, I hope I didn't get too much of that tonite. Cuz I wouldn't want to repel my 5TH FOLLOWER! Woo HOO! Thanks Cousin Rebecca! (And can't wait to hear all about Ohio!)

Alright, in the words of Dave Attell "Get some sleep!"

A Ride Down Memory Lane

A few months ago Joe and I headed out on an adventure: our mission- to uncover some remains of old abandoned amusement parks for him to take pictures of. Despite the soggy and muddy conditions it was still really interesting to discover these little pieces of lost history. We even found a lake community with all these unique and beautiful homes and restaurants, it was like a mini-vacation: stepping into someone else's world.


We never found anything useful for his pictures, but it piqued my interest in this kind of amusement park-archaeology. Or at the very least I began thinking about parks from my own youth.



As it happened I was bored at work (typical) and thought I'd check out WeirdNJ for old times sakes. I stumbled upon an article about a place I haven't thought about in YEARS: Action Park.

And right above the article they included the old 80s rainbow-colored sign..

I vaguely remember seeing the ads on TV but I could never forget that bright logo. Whenever we used to take small day trips I remember seeing the signs posted advertising both water and regular thrill rides. We never went, and after reading about how people were lucky to walk away with enough skin to cover their bodies, let alone their lives (and who lovingly nicknamed it "Traction Park" or "Accident Park") it was probably a good thing.

What I do remember is a place called "The Land of Make Believe," but then again, I don't so much remember specifics too much. I remember the sign, and a good-sized train that you could hop on that would take you around the park, and some characters that looked like the owner stopped by a costume shop and just asked for some generic animal outfits. There was a pirate ship thing too I think, that was obviously only active in the summer months, and was surrounded by a wide wading pool with mushroom fountains all over the place. I may not be able to pin down exact trips but those few times still somehow haunt the recesses or my memories.

I've been here in Maryland for a few years, and while I slowly start to adopt it as my home, there are still ways I keep my connection to New Jersey. It may not seem like a huge geographic change, yet the fact that I get to be part of a small section of people who actually remember these places keeps the Jersey in me alive.

I wonder what other local amusement parks people recall from their youths...guess that's gonna be for me to find out...

Anyway, time for bed. Goodnight!

Moody Trudy

Yes, once again I am late to write. But I have an excuse because yesterday was Joe's 30th Birthday!!! You know, the fact that he's older has always been something that we'd joke around about and occasionally bring up when we'd be talking about our respective childhoods (like the fact that mine included He-man and She-ra while his had Quantum Leap). But now that he is officially in a new decade bracket, somehow it really makes it sink in.

I worry I'm holding him back sometimes. I know his friends are getting married and having kids now while I'm still gazing into the future. But I just have to hope that my assurance will be enough for him for now...along with some birthday presents.

Speaking of birthday presents (like the segue? sp?) am I the only one who kinda hates buying presents? I'm pretty sure I mentioned this in a previous entry, but I get so worked up about getting the right gift, or enough or a gift or too much that it takes all the fun (?) out of giving a present. I had that same worry yesterday.

Because our weekend was kinda packed: Friday we went to the movies, Saturday was the Preakness and we kinda just recovered lazily on Sunday, I still had to get one or two more gifts (Here's the thing- Joe ALWAYS goes over the top, which is incredibly sweet and thoughtful but it does put me in the spot to make sure I can match, if not surpass, a gift for him)

I had gotten him two things already: a wallet and a frame for his registration certificate for X-treme Ghosthunting (if you don't kno what that is I'll fill you in at a later time). So I had something useful and sentimental. Now I wanted to get him something fun AND something he actually wanted.

So yesterday I was trying to finish up my work so I could bolt out of there, pick up the last few things, get home to clean a bit, and then relax before we went out. Well, first my work was taking FOREVER. Then my computer decided to take about a freaking eternity and a half to shut down. I don't know why but I started to feel the gloomiest doom (the shitty weather might've had something to do with it as well).

I ran into Wegman's, which was cart to cart in all the aisles. (I have a question, why do people put their carts RIGHT in the middle of the aisle so its impossible to pass them...or even better, when they are sifting through their Bible-sized amount of coupons while I'm sitting there leaning on my cart handle waiting for them to notice so I can squeeze by? Ugh...mood continues to plummet)

Then I grab lunch for myself (cuz Joe said he was prob gonna be at school till 2:30) and finally head home...and who's there already?? It might be my own weird thing, but I always feel so guilty showing up at home with food for just myself if Joe's (or anyone else is) home. I feel like a bad owner who's torturing her puppy dog, starving at her feet (yes def melodramatic but its freaking tru) But luckily he ate already and all he wants to do is just veg for a while.

Now I've been getting kinda crappy sleep lately. So when we laid on the couch I could feel myself about to doze off, until I realized...FUNGOOL, I still have to go get his last presents. So I rally myself up in my rain boots and fleece and walk to Target. After deliberating for a good 20 mins on what to get, I head back home.

"We should get going soon, do you need to get ready?" Joe says. I just finished wrapping his gifts and even tho I managed to write out the card sincerely AND humorously, my mood was pretty bleak. I tried to cover it up with a smile but he could see right through me (as he always does, I swear the man reads me like a book). I tell him I'm fine just really in a weird mood. He offers to let me stay home, but there was no way I was doing that.

So I dolled myself up in the sluttiest outfit I'd let myself wear and we headed out. At first the night was rocky but as we saw more and more people I actually started to have a good time...until around midnite. As if in the fairytale my light bubbly mood turned back into a sour pumpkin. Joe could tell I was getting tired and after he had had the rest of his birthday shots we headed back home.

I still don't really know what caused that mood. Like I said, besides the minor annoyances of everyday life, nothing awful happened to make me so pissy. I guess they just come and go like the tides, except not so regularly, although I do tend to pull other people down into my vast abyss (that's a good Scrabble word..have to remember that)

And speaking of pulling down I think it's time for me to pull myself down...into bed. And you too! Goodnite, you princes of Maine...you...wait, how'd the rest of that go? Great, now I'm pissed again. (lol, j/k...?)

One Sick Gamble

A couple of years ago I went into the Patient First in Perry Hall, complaining of some back pain. I was a bit worried it could be something else, so I wanted to be sure. An hour and $200 later I had a doctor telling me just to take some Tylenol. If I wasn't sick before I suddenly felt nauseous and weak in my cheapo bones. (Not to mention that everyone, except the doctor, talked to me like I just took a baseball bat to their mailbox--serious attitude).

Yeah, maybe I walked into that one, but ever since then (and since I am without insurance) I am terrified to go to another walk-in clinic place unless I am pretty sure I actually have some kind of illness that merits it.

Fortunately (or unfortunately, depending on how you look at it) the next time I was feeling sick I went to the Padonia Urgent Care right near my apartment and found out I actually DID have something--and realized I should've gone there in the first place: great location, nice people, even awesome hours (I walked in on Easter Sunday and they were open!) From sign-in, diagnosis, and medication dispensing, I was in and out in less than an hour. Plus: the price for everything turned out less than my last experience, so I was probably the happiest person with strep throat ever.

Still, when I went in today I felt that familiar fear...not of being sick with anything serious, but b/c I didn't want to blow $100 or more and have someone tell me to head to a Rite Aid. But after talking to my mom and Leslie the consensus was the reason my head has been feeling like a vise and been coughing up green sludge was due to an infection--meaning: requires antibiotics. I was trying to see if it was just allergies or even just a small cold but after a week nothing really changed (and I'm pretty sure my other co-workers were sick of hearing me hacking away everyday) so I guess I thought I had no other choice but do something.

So when I walked in today, I signed in and then sat down waiting for them to call my name. I waited....and waited...and hey, how about some more waiting? Granted there were more people in there than last time, but DAMN. How much crappy Cartoon Network do I have to suffer through? (Btw, I'm not saying we had GREAT shows to watch as kids, but I can't imagine they were as annoying as the ones today--god I am really starting to show my age aren't I?) But it was either that or sit like a madman with the same thought running over and over in me head, "They're gonna tell me it's nothing...they're gonna tell me it's nothing...I'm going to have wasted $115 for nothing.."

Finally, I was called and went in to the smaller waiting room, and waited for a little while longer. When the doctor walked in and and about my symptoms I was trying to describe them honestly but also found myself saying things like, "I guess it could be allergies," as if that translated to,"I realize there is a possibility that there's nothing wrong with me, don't jerk me around, give it to me straight, Doc". Again, thankfully, he did say it was a sinus infection and prescribed some antibiotics--although I'm still a little skeptical that I should've gone in at all...maybe I should have just kept trying Zyrtec? Ah well.

So now, despite the cost I do feel better and am hopeful this thing will get knocked out and I can get my taste buds back...cuz those Jelly Belly jelly beans have been mocking me for a week now...their time is coming...

Anyway, have a great weekend oh wonderful readers!

From Work to WooHoo!

Hello loyal blog readers! Again, I must pass along my apologies for another missing blog. Let's just say that from now on if I'm lacking an entry one of two things happened: 1.) I was unexpectedly detained or 2.) I was pulled away from my butt-printed sofa by a bunch of blood-thirsty yet forgetful pirates who took me and then forgot why and dropped me back of a couple hours later in the night.

Since the latter hasn't happened in a while, you can assume I was detained. And rather unexpectedly as well. What was supposed to be a quick drink w/ some colleagues at work turned into a night of boozing I haven't had in a freakin while. And that gave me the idea for tonite's blog.

I woke-up this morning, eyes wide and felt the cold familiar chill of leftover alcohol on my skin and terror. Immediately my mind begins doing (as it usually does after a night out) of mentally running through the night and checking for embarrassing moments. But this was doubly important since I was out with people I work with, and was sick to my stomach with worry that I had just single-handedly blown the best job I've had in years. (As usual my reaction was really an OVER reaction...but still I was concerned)

It's always strange to me how most of us keep our work lives and social lives stringently separated-- we don't want our work people to see how we really are-- and yet very often the two worlds are forced to collide: office birthdays, anniversaries, first days, last days, etc. But these gatherings are usually pretty tame. So how do you manage when you are asked to go out for what you think will be a quiet drink and it turns into classic carousing? And even more nerve-wracking when senior members are doing the pouring?

It reminded me of the times when my parents would be out and my sisters and I would try to get our dog Abigail to come into the living room (a place she had been iron-clad trained never to enter). I can imagine the horrible torture we put that poor dog through...tempting her with treats just to see if she would break her training. And you know she only did it ONCE, she was so good. I wish I had the resilience of a dog... I miss her

But we all probably face that same odd situation-- you want to be liked by your peers but you ALSO don't want them to see you doing karaoke to Journey and lose respect for you.

Back in college when I went to write for the Towerlight I had the same fears when asked to hang out with our senior editors Lauren and Mike. Yeah it was a club, but still it was learning how to behave in an actual office setting and I didn't really know how to balance my brashy side from my office side. But when our location for hanging out was Tigerfest I pretty much tossed much of my cautions to the wind and actually gained some great friends. I still look at Lauren sometimes and think how intimidated and nervous I used to be around her, my "authority figure".

Same thing happened when I went to work at the school in Dundalk and met Kelly. She's only a few years older than me yet she's already so accomplished with a husband and one child at the time. She took me under her wing and so I saw her in a very "boss" like-light. In fact, most of the people there, even the younger ones (like you Jess!) were so put together and professional I found myself trying like hell to measure up. And then the day of our summer party came and I found myself in the same ol' predicament. I want these guys to respect me but yet I keep getting beer handed to me. (Don't get me wrong, it wasn't like anyone was forcing me at all) So what do you do? You want to fit in without crossing into "who the hell IS this person?".

And anyone who has gone drinking with me knows, without claim of over exaggeration, I can get hammered off 2 beers. That brings around another problem. You try to pace yourself yet if people are like "hey how bout a third round" and everyone else could recite the Gettysburg address, you're yammering on about wanting to VISIT a Gettysburg address. Doesn't make for much fun company (unless you're the entertainment).

So what can you do? I don't really know if there is really a way around it. You just go out to see what the feeling of your peers are and basically play along. And if they are the laid-back, have a drink on me, kind of people, there's no harm in letting your hair down...provided you are always trying to keep at their level.

I look back on it now and still shake my head at some of the things I said and did...but truthfully (and as far as I know) it has never affected my work-life. In fact, in some cases I feel I was welcomed into the fold more. I think that will be the case with last night, but I'll have to let you know.

Anyways, like I said, I'm still nursing this hangover, so byesey bye for now!

The Youthful Follies

Believe it or not, my fine taste in film and music took years to hone (*scoff* *scoff*) and meanwhile I liked alot of crap along the way. Whenever I hear a song I used to be obsessed with or see clips from a movie I used to watch over and over again, I can't help but grimace with regret and embarrassment. And now coming up towards my 26th birthday, I feel it's time to look back on these things not with shame but in the comfort of knowing they helped me become the person I am now...plus it should be good for a cheap laugh.

1. "Jump" by Van Halen--I used to love this song. The sound of that rockin synthesizer used to get me so pumped up, I'm brave enough to say I tried to do that high-kick jump off my bed. Now, when I hear it I have to change the channel. What I used to love now annoys the crap outta me. Oh well...might as well jump...

2. "Karma Chameleon" by Culture Club--This wasn't like "Jump", this was literally the first song I was OBSESSED with. I had never seen anything like Boy George before. I was coming from a childhood where my mother banned MTV because she thought it was too racy for us kids (and this was at a time BEFORE horny co-eds had nothing better to do than get wasted everyday and punch each other in the face...what show am I talking about? Does it matter? Take your pick)

3. "Josie and the Pussycats" Soundtrack--I never even saw the movie, but on a trip to Florida I met up with my friend Meghan and a few of her friends and she introduced me to it. They apparently had been listening to it the practically the whole trip...I can't really explain this one, or why I loved it so much. Maybe it was b/c we were in Florida, or the first taste of freedom, but all I know is I actually continued to listen to it for a while until it finally got scratched beyond recognition and the spell was broken. Honestly the cynical music (and movie) lover in me must've wept with relief, but I stil don't think I can let myself live down that one...

4. "Charlie's Angels"--I look at movies today, especially remakes, with a bit of a judgemental eye. But back in High School I freakin LOVED this movie. Again, not really sure why. Maybe cuz it actually had girls kicking ass (a rarity). And really that was prob its only redeeming quality. But if I look at the story now, I get so annoyed. It seems like a caricature of itself, so overdone and yet thin. Esp the dialogue (if I had to hear that whiny baby-talk and obnoxious way Cameron Diaz said "Chaaliee" i think i'd have to saw my ear off with a butter knife).

So there they are...my youthful follies. Maybe they aren't so bad to some of you...maybe you even like these things. I guess they will always have a weird place in my heart, like a scar that never goes away but reminds you of who you once were and where you came from. Wow, that's probably the deepest anyone would ever go after just talking about David Lee Roth and and a crappy remake of an Archie-comic-character-band. But I'm woman enough to admit mine. What are yours huh?

Driver Drama

So this is the second time in the last two months I went home and came back with a freakin illness. Last time it turned into strep, but now I think it's just a cold, but still...aggravatin'

Also, as if THAT wasn't enough to make my drive back stressful, I think I nearly died...at least three times. Now, anyone who has driven with me knows I will stand up like an alcoholic at an AA meeting, raise my hand to God and say, "Hello, My name is Kristen, and I'm a bad driver." Be aware, I didn't say a reckless or careless driver. I'm more a bad driver the way your 86 yr old grandmother is a bad driver-- I've got poor vision, slow reflexes, and lack attention. But don't worry, I make up for it by driving AT LEAST 10 miles below the speed limit.

But I get pretty annoyed when it seems like fate is just throwin me curve balls on the road. I've driven the same route back and forth from Jersey to Maryland for years now, and yet this last time was prob the most treacherous experience. Let me take you through it...

1. Evil Robin--I was driving down the road towards the gas station to fill up before my trip (if I leave Jersey without getting at least a few gallons of gas I end up kicking myself all the way back. Yes, I realize the 30 cents I end up saving gets eaten up just in the drive TO the gas station, but its the PRINCIPLE. All you other cheapskates out there know wat I'm talkin about) and I noticed a bird in the middle of the road. Respectful of cute animals, I slowed down, waiting for it to fly away...and waited...and waited. Suddenly I was getting closer and closer and the damn thing just sprang up and down. I started thinking, 'I'm gonna hit this damn bird...'. It was just like that episode of Seinfeld where George hits the pigeon ("We had a DEAL!"). Finally I had to actually swerve out of the way, and when I made the sudden movement, I guess it finally sensed catastrophe in the form of a hulking metal sedan coming at it and took flight...right at my windshield. Thankfully I missed it, but that was prob my first hint to stay home a little longer.

2. Crazy Lady Driver-- I hate to be traitorous, especially towards my own gender, but my second brush with death was at the hand of a curly-haired brunette in a blue car. (And no, I wasn't just looking at my rear view mirror, smartass). There was some construction goin on and while the other cars were all slowly veering I figured I'd veer too. Just as I was passing around, this chick in a blue car came driving right at me...no hesitation, no slowing down, just straight-up 40 miles per hour. I had to pull a freaking Jason Statham just avoid her oncoming Carolla. Hint #2 to turn around and head right back to bed.

3. The Wind Cries "I'm Gonna Push You Off This Bridge"-- My last near-death experience started the second I got on the highway and didn't really let up until I was about 10 mins from my apt...I've had problems with the wind before, but NOTHING like this last time. I was going about 55 miles per hour, and yet I was still getting batted around like a kitten with a ball of twine. It wasn't so bad, until I hit the bridge. God damn, I really was terrified. I learned new meaning to the phrase "white-knuckle". People were passing me left and right, and even when I tried to speed up to keep up with traffic I felt like the wind was toying with me. Finally when I got off my hands were so tense my elbows ached. It was a small consolation that I was met with a cute toll booth attendant at the end, I still had to gulp hard and was never more grateful to be in Delaware.

And now, safe and sound in my apt, struggling to breath through one nostril, I think about how close I came to total destruction. Maybe it was my slow-driving that actually saved my life. Just what the world wants...maybe I should try going 20 miles below the speed limit from now on...sorry people.

Homeward Bound Nowhere

"You still think of New Jersey as your home, don't you," Joe said as we were heading to the freeway. A few months ago we had a lovely visit with his family and we started talking about where we considered our "homes" to be now.

"I always used to." I said, pondering. "But, since my parents moved out of my old house, I dunno." I stared out the window at the passing pastures and neighborhoods.

"What about Maryland? Isn't Maryland your home now?" he continued. I didn't have a comfortable answer then and I still didn't the other day when we came upon the same subject. Again I was kinda dumbfounded.

At the drop of a hat I will align myself with my Jersey kinsmen. But I have noticed that every time I visit it feels like a piece of me is chipped away, rather than feel more complete. I think the fact my parents sold our family house lopped off my connection to really feeling like Jersey was my home. Instead of feeling grounded I usually feel more like I'm drifting along the surface, despite the fact that deep down I know my town like a soldier who has the home-advantage--knowing the terrain, places to escape (the tourists, at least), even where the nudist beach is. (not sure why a soldier would need to know that, but I'm sure it would come in handy)

Instead, when I went away to college I assembled my closest friends, established jobs, and accumulated countless memories all around Baltimore. And yet, the day I had to finally surrender my Jersey driver's license in exchange for a Maryland one, I still felt like I was betraying my home state. I'm really having a hard time with the idea of turning in my tags, too, and tyring to put it off as long as possible.

So you see how I'm torn. I always get a little uneasy about coming to visit (even this time for Mother's Day) and yet when I'm on the turnpike heading back towards Baltimore, I feel sad. It's like I'm in a perpetual state of looking at the greener grass on the other side.

It gets even more frustrating whenever Joe and I talk about the idea of getting a house. He's perfectly comfortable with the idea of settling around here, yet I feel myself digging my heels into the ground. DESPITE the fact that my friends are here, my boyfriend is here, my job is here...the idea makes me into a commitment phobe. And when my mom passes along jobs she finds for both Joe and me around the Shore, I can't quite bring myself to be OK with that either....

The solution?.....Delware....Hi, I want to live in Delaware. Seriously, Delaware makes so much sense. I could be near my beloved beach (and casinos) and yet be only an hour away from my friends. It seems perfect. But I do have the botheration of having to not only listen to Joes's opinion but I have to actually (ugh) CONSIDER his feelings...(j/k), so, dunno I'll get far with this idea.

So where is home? Is it really as simple as "where your heart is"? I'm not sure. For the time being I suppose I'll have to exist within this living-limbo. At least until I can trick Joe into getting into a moving van with all our stuff...

"Where are we going?" he'll say, "What does that sign say?...........Dover Downs?? Well, it IS a raceway AND casino...ok, hand me the boxes..."

Thursday Thoughts

As I've mentioned a few times, my job has me looking at names for about 8 hours a day. You may assume it would be mind-altering-ly boring, but actually I come across some interesting little surprises. Once while I was (legitimately) looking up an hospital I came across a rather interesting article...

http://www.telegraph.co.uk/news/newstopics/howaboutthat/3330057/Vicar-went-to-hospital-with-potato-stuck-in-bottom.html

If you don't feel like clicking the link, it's basically an article about a vicar who was hanging curtains in his kitchen (...naked) and fell on a potato, getting it lodged right in the ol' Yorkshire pudding hole (and I found this only a few weeks into the job).

That article aside, the most commonly interesting things we come across are odd names similar to celebrities...Julia Roberts, for example. Leslie, my coworker found a good one the other day (Mighty Fine...yes, she swears that was the name, but unfortunately there was no pic so she's not sure if it was a guy or girl).

Today I found a pip- Melody Music. First name Melody, last name Music. Doesn't it sound like a character on a kiddie show? Either her parents were musicians that had their last name changed for shits and giggles, had a sick sense of humor, OR (if she was married) should get a lottery ticket for marrying a guy with such a perfectly matchable name. But that's not even the best part...she lived on Minor Ave. (as in a kind of music key), AND 747 Broadway (umm as in where MUSICAL MELODIES are played?!?). Classic, you can't make this crap up.

Then after I got over the amazement of that, I started thinking about something else. You know I'm pretty critical about today's music. And I think part of the reason is the false hope these damn songs give me. I hear a song and the first bars sound so good and interesting...and then it all goes to whiney-yarling-generic HELL. While I was considering that, The Police's "Wrapped Around Your Finger" came on the radio. It took me a second to recognize it, cuz I had to fast forward through the intro through my brain to get to the bridge. I have to do that with a few of their songs, and that's when I realized something--while most bands can develop a good beginning their end delivery is crappy, while The Police kinda have the opposite problem...their beginnings are kinda unpleasant frankly, but once you get past it, their songs are really interesting AND accessible. If current music is chocolate covered crap cordial, The Police are like a crap covered nougatty caramel delicacy. You get through it and you get a delightful payoff. Current music may goes down easy but at the end of the day...its crap. Too critical? Eh whatever.

Maybe I'm too much of a stickler. And maybe I'm too young to be a stickler...but I'm really not that young anymore am I? You know I still think I feel about 18, which is maybe why I get so frustrated when my body or skin changes. Even the people I consider "older" are really not that far beyond me. And yet I still always try to be ultra-lovely and mind my manners. I've noticed that especially in this office. I'm not that much younger yet I still feel like I need to make sure I'm polite, as if I'm around relatives I barely see and I'm looking at a dirty glare from my mother if I don't say "please" and "thank you." In school it's so easy to see the distinction. But out here in the real world, it's like suddenly you are just lumped together in the masses of "adults". It's a weird sensation, but I guess it's all part of growing up. I am still growing up aren't I?

Wednesday Wonderings...

My mind has the tendency to wander from topic to topic, especially at work. So I figured I'd share some random thoughts that came to me (in no particular order...)

1.) Coffee- I never used to understand what the big attraction to coffee was. The few times I tried it in the past it I could never get past the bitterness of it. Even after putting packets of sugar and milk in it, I couldn't believe that people could drink gallons of it in a single day. But when Joe and I visited his aunt she made us breakfast and coffee. Not wanting to be rude, I accepted the cup and was shocked at how good it tasted. I still didn't have it often, until recently. I was at work with what I had to assume was on incoming migraine. My coworker Leslie offered me some migraine tablets and suggested I have coffee with it (apparently the caffeine helps). In a few minutes I felt like I was tripping. My head felt light, my hands felt heavy, and started get the worst kind of giggles. I was freaking out, and trying desperately not to bring attention to myself in our silent office. I had never really had that feeling before, but I noticed it again today. Maybe it was because all I had was a bowl of cereal and a banana all day. Whatever, either way, it was kinda cool. Made looking at names all day a bit more interesting...

2.) Jethro Tull v. Metallica- I was listening to "Cross-Eyed Mary" by Jethro and suddenly remembered something. Remember that whole controversy when Jethro Tull won best new metal album or whatnot instead of Metallica? Ok, fine do you remember that VH1 countdown of lease metal moments where they talked about it? Yeah, at the time I totally understood and even (gasp) sided with Metallica. Maybe they are considered more "metal" than Jethro Tull (yeah, they ARE more metal) but that was at the time when all I heard from them was "Enter Sandman" (which I'm so sick of now). Plus tag on their pathetic attack on Napster which just made them look like assholes, and I really lost alot of respect for them. Besides, it's not easy rocking out with a flute (you gotta give 'em extra points for THAT at least).

3.) Failblog.org.- Sometimes there are some down moments at work, so we are kinda free to roam around the internet. Well a while back Joe's friend Greg showed us a site called "Failblog.org", which is basically like CollegeHumor of eBaum's World (and if you don't know what those sites are, you prob wont get this site-basically its funny pictures and videos posted daily). I never look at the videos, but the pictures are kinda easy to flip through and get a cheap laugh. And most importantly, they usually aren't TERRIBLY racy, so I feel ok about looking at them at work. Of course, as is my shitty-ass luck, I'm going through some and spot one that has the headline "Mating Fail." And, also of course, my computer decides to freeze up with the picture of the giraffe humping a water buffalo...and finally...that's when my boss walks back in from lunch...Chhrrrrrrist. I'm sitting there turnin beet-red and trying like hell to close out-damnit-close out and open Yahoo News like a decent worker. Thankfully, he didn't notice or at least had the kindness not to call me out on it...

Yup, that's what I think about at work. And just think...I'm getting PAID to think about this crap.

Trading Mickey for Grissom

What is it with former child actors that either become total self-destruction addicts/victims or go to just "play them on TV."

I'm watching that episode of SVU where Melissa Joan Hart is the teacher who is raped by her student. It's a pretty compelling episode anyway, but God how much would you have wanted to be on the set while they were taping and count how many times you manage to ask her to "explain it all" or "hey, where's Sam?..(baangawang)".

It can't be easy, because you know these actors just want to move on from their childhood (esp cuz I'm sure it wasn't exactly a Disney movie). So it's no surprise they take the first acting gig that has them: naked, doing drugs, or killing someone with a shovel...ANYTHING but what they used to do.

Hell, the cast of Saved By the Bell is a who's who of crazy-character actors. Remember when Mark Paul Gosselaar played that rapist on the Lifetime movie? Or when Tiffany Amber-Thiassen joined the cast of 90210, playing the bad-girl? My personal favorite is Elizabeth Berkley's unforgettable performance in a forgettably bad movie, "Showgirls."

But what is it with the unappealing-wacky characters that have nothing better to do but get into porn? What goes through their minds, I have no idea..."Hmm, I'm not cute and awkward anymore, I'm old, overweight, and awkward. What should I do? I know, I'll get naked in front of a camera so the whole world can see my saggy-ass."

The most notable example of this is the kid from "The Toy" and "A Christmas Story", who started off as a nonsexual porn actor (which has GOT to be low on the rungs of legitimate acting...maybe even below being a CW actor). Then he got his big break and actually got a film all for himself. Good for him, I guess. Just seems a shame (why aren't there ever any hot male actors that we WANT to see get naked go into porn?)

And then of course there was Screech Powers, who for some reason thought he'd get into the sex-biz. I can't help but pity this guy, despite his enormous douchedom that revealed itself on Celebrity Fit Club. He was working the Screech character into his late 20s. When the girls were attacking the set for Zack and A.C., Screech had to settle for the leftovers like a vulture. Otherwise he could hang out in his trailer with Mr. Belding.

So why not go into porn? Maybe he needed some validation, or maybe it was the only business he was allowed in. Either way, like seeing a car accident, I really shouldn't look, but I'm damned curious. And I think you are too...

You can't really blame these guys tho. After years of acting with squeaky-clean dialogue and heart-to-heart talks, wouldn't you want to rebel too? And it's better they do it with their acting rather than in real life. And, as history has a way of repeating itself, it will be interesting to see what acting jobs the cast of iCarly or Camp Rock end up getting. Taylor Swift already had a gig on CSI where she wound up dead. Maybe Zac Efron will grow up to be a psychopathic serial killer in a Lifetime movie. But who'll be the ones that end up in porn? Eh...give it a few years...