Arrest-room

On one of the episodes of "Enter the Chasm"- the podcast I was creating and co-hosting, I discussed one of my biggest pet peeves. Due to technical difficulties, this portion of the show never aired, but I still felt it was an interesting enough topic that I would instead write about it here.

What's my latest pet peeve? Bathroom attendants.

I know, I am horrible, and I apologize to anyone reading this who makes a living doing this job, but I can't stand walking into a bathroom with an attendant there. It's like walking into a coffee shop and having an employee walk you to your table, stand there, and ready to wipe any crumbs from your muffin off your table. And then expecting a tip. I can wipe off my own muffin, thank you very much.

I guess I've gotten particularly annoyed lately because I seem to keep running into them. About a year ago, I went to see a show at Rams Head Live. After dropping dough on parking, getting a ticket to the event, and buying a bottle of beer (Budweiser, for God's sake) I realized my funds were dwindling. I finally had to make a quick trip to the bathroom and as soon as I pop in, there she was. Complete with a big basket of toiletries and fresheners, she stood waiting, soap pump in hand.

I silently groaned, but what could I do? Nature was calling and I was already in her lair. Once inside the stall I sorted through whatever bills I had left- only to discover the smallest I had was a five.

Now I believe I have also made it abundantly clear that I am a rather cheap person. So the thought of forking over a $5 for someone to squirt some soap and hand me a paper towel seemed not only indulgent, but insidious.

Still, I am also a fearful, timid, and guilt-ridden individual, so the thought of trying to quickly squirt my own soap and grab a towel, sheepishly sneaking out without dropping money into her little glass jar made me even sicker to my stomach than my Budweiser.

So, with teeth-clenched, I walked out and let her hurriedly satisfy my sanitation needs. And then, making sure she saw the five spot I was handing over, placed the bill into the jar.

She seemed pretty grateful, so that took some of the bite out.

On another occasion I walked into the bar bathroom and spotted another bathroom attendant. This time, she had put up several signs all around the sinks explaining how she makes next to nothing, except for whatever she gets for tips. God damnit- I sunk another $2.

Finally, on a most recent trip, I walked into the cramped bathroom of a Tex-Mex restaurant down in Power Plant, and again, there was a bathroom attendant. Son-of-a..

All these previous times I had been guilted and prodded to just bite the financial bullet and tip these ladies.

Maybe it was the particular mood I was in; maybe it was the 3 Dos Equis coursing through my veins; or maybe I just felt it was time I took a stand and said "no more".

Or maybe it was just the fact that I had gone to the bathroom without my wallet.

In any event, I allowed the nice lady to squirt my soap and once I had rinsed off, hand me my towel. I dried my hands, tossed the paper towel in the trash, and bolted for the door.

I never looked back.

Peeling the Layers

Since I'm sorta new to the whole "cooking" game, I still find it interesting what I discover about myself and food. Through handling food and preparing it by my own hands, I am able to reveal facets about myself I never knew or thought were impossible. I like cheese- did you know that? Not all kinds yet, and I'm still texture-picky, but by making dishes I have found an unrealized love of cheese.

And I like onions. Onions, however, do not like me. Because every time I meet a fresh onion, I wind up looking like a character from a slasher-film in her final showdown scene- my eyes tearful and hand clutching a knife, trying to eliminate the enemy.

In other words, onions make me cry. Terribly. Painfully. I have realized from recipe to recipe that for some reason, my eyes are highly and helplessly susceptible to the burning sensation the smell of onions gives off.

I first thought it was a novelty. I had always heard that cutting up onions can make people cry, so it wasn't all that shocking when I started tearing up. What I had not factored in was WHY they made people cry.

It buuuurns, it BUUURNS. I remember the first time; proudly leaning over my new cutting board, nice new sharp knife in hand and trying to mimic the quick slicing I had always seen on Food Network, when the board became blurry. My nose began to run. And suddenly I began wincing.

It felt like I had just dumped a whole bottle of soap detergent directly into my eyes; the burning was incredible. I stepped away, trying to rub my face without letting my hands actually my skin. After several moments of blinking so much I looked like I had an odd tick, the burning subsided at last.

From then on, I knew the drill; the second that initial bite hit my eyes, I quickly moved over to the kitchen door and breathed in the fresh air. It worked sometimes- other times I was too focused and stayed in my place, and by the time I stepped away it was too late; my eyes burning so bad I couldn't tell which tears were from the onions or the pain.

So when the recipe for tonight called for chopped red onions, I was ready. As soon as I began peeling and slicing, the painful burn began to penetrate my eyes. In that second I walked away and breathed the fresh air. I had to repeat a few times just to get the onions ready, but it worked! I left them on the cutting board while I made the other parts of the dinner, tears still inside the ducts.

A short while later, I was sitting with Joe at our kitchen table discussing something, when my eyes began to itch. And then water. And then burn.

What the hell? I thought. I chopped those damn things over 10 minutes ago! As I tried to wipe away the tears that were now starting to stream, Joe asked if I was alright.

"Yes!" I said, "it's those damn onions! I haven't touched them in almost 20 minutes! How the hell could they burn my eyes now? And from here!?"

Finally, with a few swipes of my sleeves, the burn subsided. I guess those onions will find a way to get me one way or another. No sense crying about it....

I'd Lik to Buy a Bowel - The Search for Poo

So after a sleepless night, trying to not hear Georgia's shivering, Joe and I got up and packed Georgia into Joe's car for her second visit with the vet.

As I saw them off I began getting myself ready for work, yet all I could think about was what the vet would say.

At around 10:30 a.m. I received a call from her.

“So we have Georgia here, and I just don’t like the look of that lump, so I think surgery is going to be necessary.”

My heart sank.

But I quickly agreed with her decision, and then proceeded to feel the onslaught of questions hammer into my brain once again.

Finally, at around 7 p.m., we were able to pick her up and take her home, with orders to bring her back again for a fresh round of fluids and treatment.

The night was rough; Georgia barely let us touch her and she seemed completely out of it. I was nervous not just because I feared hurting her, but I also feared that somehow, when she had gone under the knife, her personality would’ve changed.

The next day, after dropping her off again and another long day of anticipation, my fears were happily abated.

The vet led us back to see her and we were greeted with a super excited, tail-wagging dog. We were given some further instructions, a couple of medications, and, the piece de resistance, a plastic cone to keep her from licking herself.

We were also told to be on the lookout for vomiting or constipation, so for the past few days, we have been following and watching Georgia’s bodily functions. Luckily there was no vomit and in fact, her appetite had become ravenous.

The one thing we still hadn’t seen was her poop. I began to get obsessed. Every time Joe took her out, I’d ask if she pooped. I’d constantly watch her to see if she pooped. I was even hoping to come home to the smell of poop, just so I knew that her bowels were working again.

I was beginning to get sincerely crazy when Joe texted me that, hurray, she pooped!

I haven’t seen the evidence myself, though. So, even tonight, I found myself standing in my pajamas and bathrobe, feet in slippers, standing in my yard at 8:30 at night, watching my lamp-shade wearing dog for the slightest squat. Classy, I know.

Still, it really says something about how my priorities have changed, even just at 27.

Dressing Down

The past few days have proven to me that sometimes I really do feel like I'm in a Seinfeld episode. I'm sure these situations happen to all of us, but I have the benefit of having nothing better to do than relate my experiences here, and hopefully, squeeze a chuckle out of somebody in the process. So here we go...

A few days ago I was walked into Target looking for a few filler gifts for Joe's birthday. You know, the kind of gifts that aren't supposed to be the MAIN focus, but are just a few odds and ends things the person could use.

As I walked past the women's clothing section, I was really trying to keep my focus away from shopping from myself when all of a sudden out of the corner of my eye I spied something purple. It was a sassy plum purple sundress with black piping and a corset-like top. It was actually close to my size (score!) AND on clearence for only $12 (shoot score!!). I knew that I was really there for Joe, but since I was taking him to a nice dinner I felt justified in getting a snazzy new dress for the occasion. Especially when I'd get change back from a $20- I LOVE that (cheap-ass that I am).

I head to the fitting room and take my plastic card, noticing I am the ONLY customer in there. As I'm assessing the dress I suddenly hear outside over at the fitting room attendant's desk, the attendant answering her phone.

"Hello?" she said, bright and chipper. Then there is a long pause.

".....What?.....What?.....WHAT!?", her voice suddenly becomes strained and choked up. And in mid-pose in front of my mirror, I froze.

Another quieter voice came over to her and I heard the attendant say, "My cousin just OD-ed...he was only 15..."

Now, my heart goes out to the poor girl at the horrible tragedy that has befallen her family, but I can't help but selfishly begin to worry about my own vain needs.

I am standing in a dressing room wearing a dress I decide not to buy, and unsure as to how to possibly get out without looking like an ass. I'm on a time crunch, so I really can't dally here all day. Yet, I feel weird bursting through the door and declaring to the devastated girl that I've changed my mind on the $12 dress and thanks anyway, pretending I didn't hear what she just revealed.

Then again, I feel weird somberly coming up with the dress and slowly handing it over, acknowledging the fact that I heard something so personal and sad.

I finally decide to split the difference and come out but remain pretty quiet.

Thankfully, the other attendants took her spot while another employee walked away with her to give her some privacy. I definitely still felt like a jackhole being the one customer actually trying things on at such an early hour and making them have to acknowledge me.

Maybe it would've been better if I had walked by handing over the card and just bought the dress....I still would've gotten change from a $20...

Supermarket Swept

Man, I am craving watermelon right now. It's really amazing how as soon as the weather turns warm I get relentless cravings for cool juicy fruit. Although I can't be sure if these cravings really have anything to do with summer or if it's because those damn supermarket circulars make them look sooo good.

And that is quite a feat for some of these supermarkets which borderline on the edge of bodegas. You know the kind of places that sell day old bagels in their "bakery" and a can of beans that saw the Great Depression.

However, on the flip-side, in this area we also have our fair share of high-end over-priced markets as well, and everything in between.

I've done a bit of moving around in this area, and because of that I have learned what I like best and least about the supermarkets around here (and since I have no other topic in mind, I think I'll rate them on a scale of 1-6, 1 being the highest).

6.) Shoppers: While their prices are pretty decent and they have a nice variety of generics, their fruit and vegetables have always been on the crappy-side. Also you get the feeling that things just aren't so clean or refreshed very often. Also, no coupon cards so you never get to watch your total amount drop a dollar or two.

5.) Food Lion: Again, their fruit has always been more on the miss-side than a hit. Also they don't seem to carry a ton of variety, however their meat case is well organized by cooking methods (grilling, sauteing, stew, etc.) and their specials are usually pretty good.

4.) Superfresh: Lots of variety and their produce is usually pretty good. And though sometimes their sales can be pretty amazing, they aren't often enough.

3.) Trader Joes: I am a newcomer to the whole Trader Joe's phenom but I have to say I am pretty hooked (I even have Trader Joe's brand toothpaste). On some things their prices are great, however on most items it is double or more than I want to pay. Still, it's nice to go in there and try something new or unusual.

2.) Wegmans: Great prices throughout and so many things to try. Wish their fruit section was a little more plentiful, because their fruit is usually great. Also great consistent deals on essentials like paper towels, toilet paper, and tissues (all the lowest prices I've ever seen for the same things). Seems to have a generic option for everything under the sun. However, it always takes an extra half hour to get through the store since it's so big and almost ALWAYS busy. The parking lot might as well be as big as a football field.

1.) Mars: The little supermarket that could. Conveniently right on my way home from work, I can quickly pop in for a quick dinner idea and be back out in less than 20 minutes. Surprisingly plentiful and delicious fruit and veggies for a small grocery store, I rarely have a bad piece. Their sales are usually fantastic but even their consistent prices are hard to beat.

I've never made it to WholeFoods, but I understand that it's moniker is WholePaycheck, so I assume it's not cheap. But I wonder if it's worth it...?

Anyway, what is your least/favorite supermarket and why? Post a comment here or on my facebook.

Adulthood Lite

First off, salutations and many thanks to Mel, my 10th follower! Hooray, I made it to double digits!

Ok, as promised, I'm going to try and continue to keep these posts short so as not to bore any poor soul taking the time to read this...

I think I have made it abundantly clear that I have no interest in becoming an adult- I don't like the responsibility. And nothing proves that more than trying to deal with a house.

Don't get me wrong; I do love the space and being near alot of stuff (plus I'm renting, so it hardly counts. It's more like Diet Home-ownership- all the drama but half the responsibility).

Take this as an example...

I was finally catching up on some much-needed laundry and when I went down in the basement where our laundry machines were to switch loads I was met with a small pool emerging on the floor.

Before thinking about where the water was coming from I looked around to see what was at water-risk. Luckily we had invested in hard plastic crates for storage (including my entire spring and summer wardrobe). Unluckily, we do have a few cardboard boxes that (though they seem away from the water) have soaked up some of the water AND are a pain to get to.

I decided to worry about those things later and instead indulged in a nice helping of panic that the water would get to Joe's equipment.

I didn't see any moisture on his studio-side, but I still called him to warn him.

"Did you check the laundry-water pipe? The last time this happened it was because it had popped out of the laundry sink."

I had no idea what he was talking about so I went to check the washer. Sure enough, the black plastic foldable pipe was pointing up on the floor, where the water must have gushed out like a small geyser.

I stood around looking at this mess for a good minute, unsure what to do and/or where to begin, and cursing the fact that I had no mother or father around to deal with it. Stupid adulthood.

Joe eventually came home, and with a combined effort of towels and wet-vac (which I'm beginning to think was purposely bought by the owners for scenarios just like this) we managed to sop up as much water as possible.

Only things still left to deal with are a few (now moldy) boxes, but really, how long did I want a few notebooks from high school, a dozen dried-up white-out pens, and a VHS of "Billy Madison"?

Service with an Evil Smile

Yes, let me address my own discontent with this frigid weather we are having. It sucks, and it sucks even more because we were taunted with the delightful mild temperatures not but 7 days ago, and now they are calling for snow.

I am quite perturbed at this prospect except for one reason: the possibility of getting out of playing football on Sunday. True by the end (and after my glorious catch) I was having fun. But the idea of playing again...in the cold...and without my fellow female friend/player has me wishing the snow on. I apologize to those willing the opposite to occur.

So I have been absent here because I was catching up on a few tasks I had been putting off (or plain old forgot about). And the theme behind tonight's post is- people who are kind but suck at the same time. You'll get it as you read along...

I was getting something out of the fridge the other day and happened to look up, noticing my appointment card for my dentist. I couldn't believe it had been 6 months already.

It was a blessing and a curse; a blessing because maybe I could set up an appointment to get my tooth sensitivity taken care of once and for all, and a curse because I feared the physical and financial pain to do so.

I went in and was immediately greeted by the receptionist. I then waited a few moments before being called back into the dentist's chair. The hygenist was extremely nice and when she asked if I had had any problems I immediately explained my sensitivity. She said after she was finished with my cleaning she would call the dentist in and see what she could do.

After she was finished my dentist came in I again I launched into a plea about how nothing had been helping and I was really looking for something to permanently help. She offered the idea of getting my teeth bonded, and when she realized she could do it right then, I was whisked away into another room.

Now let me explain, going back to the theme of this post, that everyone in that office is extremely and thoroughly nice and personable. They are great. Which makes it really hard to hate them when it feels like they are employing ancient techniques of dental torture.

The process basically consisted of taking every single painful instance I got from eating something too hot or cold and concentrating it into 4 or 5 minutes of horrifying excruciation. In order to put the material on my teeth she needed to clean and dry the surface. How, you make ask? By blowing chilly air and water directly on my exposed nerve.

I almost wanted to vomit a bit, but the dentist and her assistant were so sweet and kind I didn't want to come off as a bad patient. So I lay there, helpless, and with my mouth agape, praying for the end to come.

Happily it did end rather briefly, but the jury is still out on the sensitivity.

Then later I (thought) I had an appointment to get my oil changed. I had set-up an appointment online and even received confirmation through my email. So I was quite surprised when I had hauled ass to make my appointment only to find out that they had no record of it.

"Um, no, don't see you listed here," the mechanic explained, a wonderfully kind man.

"I don't suppose you'd be able to fit me in anyway?" I asked hopefully.

"Unfortunately I can't," he said smiling. I was disappointed but I couldn't feel that bad when he was making me smile and being so understanding.

So what have we learned? Nice guys finish last. Or they screw you over. But at least they make you smile while doing so.

Things I Think Count For Exercise

*I'm trying this out here first so that maybe I can peddle it into an article for the Yahoo Network. Let me know what you think (or if you have any suggestions, please gimme a shout out).

Like I think everyone in the world, I constantly battle the pressure to stay healthy by getting the necessary amount of exercise one needs every day. Also like everyone else, unfortunately, time is usually a factor. But what I've read and discovered on my own is that sometimes the oddest things we do everyday can actually be considered exercise- at least in my eyes. Read on for my tips and please let me know any tricks you have learned.

1.) Using the Stairs- When I'm at work, spending numerous hours at my computer, rarely getting up or moving around, I figure I am entitled to a 15-20 minute walking break. And when the weather is lousy (or my usual walking buddy is absent) I still like to get at least some exercise by hiking up and down the stairwell. It's virtually empty and I can actually get a pretty good sweat going in a few minutes by taking steps two-at-a-time.

2.) Playing with the Dog- One of the benefits of having a yard AND a dog is that I can "work out" without even leaving my property. I'll usually toss the ball and then race the dog to catch it. If I beat her I toss the ball again. If she beats me I lunge after the ball everytime she runs past. Plus I get a whole other muscle group involved when I have to carefully but quickly dodge her little "presents" around the yard. It's surprisingly fun, and constantly sprinting, throwing, and lunging actually gets my heart pumping.

3.) Parking Far Away- This one could be applied anytime, depending on how strapped you are for time, the weather (and how many bags you have to carry back out). But I like purposely parking farther away because you do get those extra few steps added to your exercise for the day. Nice bonus-- on a crowded day you will have less trouble parking and exiting, since most people want to get as close as they can to the store.

4.) Household Chores- Laundry and Cleaning- I really never thought this would count, but I think it should, and according to things I've read, sometimes it legitimately does. Hauling armloads of laundry down a few flights of stairs, crouching to stuff things into a washer and dryer, then pulling it back out and bringing everything back upstairs- you can definitely burn some calories. Mopping, vacuuming, and scrubbing also give your back and arms a good workout. I guess that's why they call it "housework"!

5.) Playing Baseball and Boxing on the Wii Sport- I love our Wii and one of the reasons why is it basically comes with a workout regime- the Wii Sports. Sure it's fun anyway, but when you actually want to blast some energy and feel a burn in your arms for days, try the fitness mode of the baseball and boxing. Trust me; it's exhausting and exhilarating at the same time.

It's true I am not a licensed health advisor and I may have no clinical proof to back up what I say. All I know is that by doing some or all of these things, I am able to break a sweat and lose my breath- two signs I'm pretty sure are all the proof I need. And the best part is that these are things I would do anyway.

Now if only there was a way to incorporate sitting on my butt as exercise...

Whiney Wednesday

Despite the fact that I had a fairly good day, I still feel like bitching a little bit. Not over anything big, but maybe you can relate to some of these little annoyances...

1.) My toenail keeps snagging the inside of my sock, even though I gave myself a pedicure less than a week ago! It's probably not even the nail, it's probably some dry skin. And speaking of gross...

2.) I have a scab on the inside of my nose that is so annoying and SO painful. Yet my nose keeps running, so I blow my nose, and then I see blood. How does my nose run AND be super dry at the same time!?!? It doesn't make sense. It's this weather...and speaking of weather.

3.) I know everyone says "March comes in like a lion and out like a lamb", but I always sorta thought that had something to do with it just being rainy and then sunny, not temptingly warm and blissful and then bitter cold. The high tomorrow is going to 38...38! In March!! Ugh, get warm already...my spring clothes are waiting.

4.) (Enough of the chain segues..) There is a woman who walks to work everyday and I always pass her when I'm driving. I used to do the polite head nod and smile but I have a weird history with this woman.

Back in the summer when we first moved in she had befriended me and often chatted about dog-related stuff. One day she mentioned how she thought her dogs and Georgia should have a play date (and if you heard this story already feel free to move on), and when I agreed I was immediately regretting my decision. Her one dog snapped at the other so bad it's ear began to bleed.

I was trying to suggest another time but she seemed determined and eventually just dropped both dogs into the yard. I was still tense but they played ok (if not a little rough and bullish). Anyway, they stayed for a while until finally she left and Joe and I agreed never to allow her over again.

Since then I still see her walking by but I am so terrified of another "play date" I thought it best just to cut that friendship off, so I try to find ways to avoid eye contact. Sometimes I just NEED to change the radio station at that exact moment, other times I need to reach for my phone for some reason, and still other times I just make a dazed or concerned face, pretending to ponder over life's mysteries or just trying to really really concentrate on driving.

Anyway, those are my current annoyances, but other than that, life's not too bad. How bout you? Leave a comment, won't we?

Cat-Dog

Ok, this may be a stretch of me simply scraping the bottom of the Ideas barrel, but here we go...

Reasons my Dog is like a Cat.

(these are connections I have made based on my own pre-conceived notions about cats and do not necessarily reflect the ACTUAL behaviors of cats, since I don't own any, so cat-people: be fair)

1.) Sun-hunting- To be immediately followed by sun-lounging. Many a time I have entered a room or come home and spotted Georgia carefully placed with some part of her body touching a sunbeam. I have then left said room or have gotten distracted but when I'd come back I'd noticed she has shifted her body, continuously following the progress of the sun by wiggling her body to be constantly bathed in the warm sunlight.

2.) Batting, pawing or swiping- It could have something to do with whatever Frankenstein-ian mystery breeds she has in her, or perhaps it is simply behavior by physical design, but she is a dog that seems very comfortable using her front paws as hands. For a while now we have noticed that she will scrape her nails against our hands to get us to pet her. She will play by hopping on her back legs and springing forward, her arms (because thats what they look like) outstretched as if doing a "SOO big!"

3.) Picky eating- Granted I'm sure there are millions of dogs that have this problem, but I'm gonna go out on a limb here and say there exists a stereotype that some cats are particular about their food- and in that case, Georgia is similar. Lately we've been buying this food for her that has small chunks of chicken in it. She will very happily pick out the chicken and leave the rest (the healthy component, I'm sure) for much much MUCH later. She also will turn her snout up to her food if it is not gingerly doused in warm tap water. Yes, we are indulging her pickiness and yes, I am the one turning on the faucet.

4.) Climbing- On EVERYTHING. It has almost become a common thing; seeing the telltale paw prints on tables, chairs, beds, etc. Even when I'm usually writing and Georgia decides to stay up with me, if she wants attention she has no problem walking right on my laptop. Other times when Joe or I am stretched out on the couch, she has no qualms about running in from outside and walking right on top of us, as if we are in HER way. Unlike a cat, however, she is starting to feel less like a delicate puppy and more like a rambunctious dog.

Yeah, I may have punted this one tonight, but I'll do something a bit more thought-out tomorrow- my reviews on two restaurants I visited for Baltimore Restaurant week.

Tune in tomorrow.

The Shocker

You ever shock yourself? No, I don't mean by qualifying for both the Olympics AND Mensa at the same time...and not the little b.s. static electricity kind. I mean the coursing-through-your-veins-like-Frankenstein's-monster kind of shock.

Ok, it wasn't all that severe, but it was definitely a stronger sensation than touching my computer after walking on carpet.

I was recovering from my weekend festivities last last Sunday by just taking it easy and doing some household chores. But because I'm an addict to entertainment (not just television, I've found out) I need to have something playing, be it radio or Internet. And it is because of this that I love this little laptop of mine...well, most of the time.

It's so small it's really a great travelling computer. However, the only thing that sucks is that the cable to the battery outlet has gotten loose over time. It's now super-sensitive, and if the cable is even REMOTELY unplugged, I start to rely on the battery for power, even when the whole thing is PLUGGED into the outlet.

And as easy as the cord to the battery slips out, the more difficult the cord to the outlet is to unplug. I was shifting my actions from the living room to the kitchen, and so I went to unplug the cord into the power strip outlet. I tried at first to simply grip the plastic part of the cord, but when that proved difficult I used my finger to push it out the rest of the way...

ZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ

I felt a strong charge zip right through my thumb and forefinger so quickly I took me a few seconds to actually shout the word, "Ow!" It literally felt like my hand had been shaken ferociously for a good few seconds and as I looked down my two fingers were red, but that was all the evidence I saw.

I must admit I was quite shy about touching that cord again...at least for a few minutes. But I'm not a totally dumb lab rat. The next time I will remember to use my hand as just an extractor...not a freaking conductor.

Weekend Wrap-up Part 1: The Quest for Beer

Had a slightly adventuresome weekend. Let me break it down...

On Saturday Joe was having some friends of his over to discuss his latest project, and one of those guys was bringing his wife along to keep me company. After going into clean-up mode in the rest of the house Joe tended to his man cave while I decided to make a trek for some wine and beer for everyone.

Now as I think I've mentioned before (and in case you couldn't already tell) I really hate the winter and for a number of reasons; one of the biggest being that I hate to not be able to walk to the places near us because it's too cold or too icy. I get so sick and tired of being cooped up or relying on driving so much when the places I need to get to are only 5 minutes away. One of those places is the liquor store.

I stepped outside that afternoon to test the air. It was cold but thankfully the wind wasn't blowing so I bundled up, plugged my headphones into my iPod, and grabbed my black grocery bag as I headed out the door.

I got about halfway there when I realized I had just grabbed my debit card and not my ID. Though we really do live pretty close I didn't want to bother turning around to go get something I might not even need, so I kept going. Besides, it would be getting dark soon enough.

I crossed York Road and walked into the store. A kindly middle-aged woman came around and asked if I needed anything. After I told her what beer I'd like she carried it over to the counter for me.

"I'm going to try to make this easy for you since we saw that you walked here," she said smiling and with a slight Southern drawl.

I thanked her but showed her I came prepared with my own shopping bag. She was just placing the second 12-pack inside when she said, "Just gonna need to see some ID, sweetheart."

Ugh, crap. I chuckled loudly to myself and admitted to her that I had accidentally left it at the house.

"How old ahre you?" she asked seriously.

"25..no I mean 26!" I blurted out, but it was too late. She cocked her head to the side and with the sweetest tone said, "Ah, I'm sorry, but I caain't sell it. I am so sorry." I assured her I understood and walked out empty-handed, cursing myself. Freaking nervous teenagers who don't prep themselves before they try to buy beer and are carded would've answered better than I did, and I AM of age.

I got home and told Joe the story but said I would go back out and try again. I did so and went back to the same liquor store. The woman was gone but instead a guy that had just walked in hopped the counter and waited on me. He did, of course, card me, but at least this time I was prepared.

After I got home I reached into my backseat to grab the brown paper bag (which must have been made of glorified brown spray-painted crepe paper) and it ripped all the way down. Damn damn damn.

I then had to balance a 12 pack of beer and two bottles of wine on a icy sidewalk tight rope. I made it all the way home and figured my night wouldn't be any more eventful than that. I was, of course, sorely mistaken...Part 2 tomorrow.

A. C. Slacker

Ok, so since last night's post was long AND overly emotional (a.k.a. BORING) I'm gonna do something light and brief.

I had an awkward moment at work today. Our boss, who is ultra cool, came over yesterday and said that we'd have a meeting today to discuss how we have been progressing on our given projects. Let me back up a second and explain that for the past few weeks (yes, weeks) we have been pretty much told to do whatever we want, but that there was a small ongoing project we could each work on for a while until the bigger projects come through the pipeline. So after he described what we were doing we were left to our own devices.

Now, I hate to say it, but I'm a bit of a born slacker, as well as procrastinator. Unless I have the fear of God in me, or at least someone breathing down my neck, I usually take it upon myself to look up God knows what on the Internet or play Sporcle, a game-website one of the girls turned us onto. In between games and latest shopping queries, I have been every so often clicking on and actually doing a bit of research for my project- but I was nowhere near anything useful or really definitive yet. So when he mentioned wanting to see our progress, I got that old feeling I hadn't felt since college: slacker panic.

I went home trying to convince myself I would be fine, that I had SOMETHING, just so long as he didn't ask anything specific- like what EXACTLY this company I'm showing him does. My other saving grace, I thought, was that I was collaborating with the other temp, so we could kinda lean on each other.

In the morning he walked over to where we were sitting and suggested we have our meeting at 11, and that we could just email him what we had so far.....this was a problem. At that point all I had was a collection of websites that I could show him. What the hell was I going to email him? Quickly my fellow fremp and I got to work on putting something, ANYTHING, on some Powerpoint slides. It wasn't much, but we managed to get some stuff on 9 different slides. As time ran out I emailed him what we had and walked to our deaths.

Les was up first, and as usual, was way prepared with a nice long and detailed Excel spreadsheet of her project. She seemed informed and understood what she was supposed to be doing. Then it was our turn. He pulled up my first slide (the one I was responsible for) and was quiet. I looked at it through his eyes---what the hell has this girl been DOING for almost 3 weeks? A fourth grader would've put together a nicer slide with more info. And then I did the thing I am most embarrassed by.

I began with an offensive attack, trying to get a head start in commenting on the slides before he had the chance to ask anything, but I found myself stumbling and stammering. At one point he asked a specific question (ohcrapohcrapohcrap), and tried my hardest to not look dumbfounded.

"So..what does that '90% confidence' mean?," he asked.

"Um, well...yeah, it means that they wanted to be 90% confident the information they got was sound and so, uh, therefore....the information they gave back was...90% accurate," I managed to get out. You ever have one of those feelings where you are outside yourself and you are just watching you make a total ass of yourself because the person you are talking to can totally tell you have no idea what you are talking about?

Ah well. Thankfully, it was the last specific question he asked, and luckier, he even said it was looking good and was already helpful. He gave us a few simple points to include and then released us.

We walked out breathing a heavy sigh of relief, and I did the same thing I always do when I barely get by the skin of my teeth in those situations, and reminded myself to NEVER force myself to have to go through something like that again. I like to think I will, but I'll probably just put it off...ooh "Name all the original 13 colonies" on Sporcle, hmmmm

O Henry, Where Art Thou?

Maybe it's this weather, or maybe it's just how I've been feeling lately, but I was so struck by something that I felt the need to write it out. I should apologize in advance if I come off sounding pretentious or worse, old, but I really wanted to comment on something while it was fresh in my mind. I'll try, but this will probably not be one of my most humorous posts, however it will hopefully be one of my most passionate.

I was sitting in my car this evening, listening to NPR (as all good wannabe hipster/intellectuals are apt to do) and specifically "All Things Considered", when I heard the deep voice of Robert Siegel describe the next segment as discussing the language and dialects on Twitter. Now, I'm still a bit of a newcomer to NPR, but this right off the bat, annoyed me a bit. I thought, really? Is that so very important right now? Still, I listened and waited, hoping they would maybe do a profile on how Twitter's language varies from country to country or describe the impact these social networking sites and their language have had on how businesses are practiced.

Instead I was stuck, nay, FORCED to hear the distinguished voice of Robert Seigel, utter things like "sutton" and "coo". The final blow occurred when a researcher from Carnegie Mellon answered questions, and explained to Siegel that "sutton" basically meant, "something." It was like a sit down between generations, the younger explaining pop culture to the older. This is really the second time I have felt this way; the first being when Terry Gross spoke to Green Day on "Fresh Air" about their musical based on "American Idiot".

As the researcher began his analysis of Laughing Out Loud, or "L-O-L-ing" I sighed and sadly clicked on my classic rock station. I realized I was annoyed and saddened by two factors- the overall catering to a generation and the seemingly enthusiastic demise of our common language.

As I mentioned I am still new to NPR, but from what I gathered already is that it is a station that encourages artistic and scientific thought. Though the shows are diverse they all share one common thread that unites them; they are all meant to enlighten. They can all teach you something.

Maybe it's just me. Maybe this is where the pretension and age seeps out of me and I come across as a know-nothing know-it-all or just a young old-fart. But I can't help but think there is much more to ourselves than these social fads, no matter how great or ever-present. I don't want to learn about the casual language of pre-teens. I want to know why we are in a war, explained to me in simple terms. I don't care about a band that has all but given up their relevance and social response for a short stint back in the limelight by reusing old songs into a trendy musical. I want to hear NEW things, by people I've never heard of- jazz singers or folk artists, rappers who truly use language as art and not merely as means to obtain frivolities like sex and money. When we become soft in our minds we become soft as as society. We are told to never stop learning, and we never will stop. But the materials we incorporate into our brain stems must be of a greater quality if we are to progress, not just as a generation, but as the holders of the future.

Now onto my second point of this boring lecture- the crushing of our language. As little as I am informed in the history or standards of NPR, I am in the history and standards of our language. However, I can say fully and without fear of retaliation, that I am just as informed as you. And still, I say we must reclaim our language.

Though my stint as an English teacher was brief I can tell that we are doing the generations below us a great disservice if we do not at least make the effort to encourage and teach basic language. Part of it, I know, is due to the people that are surrounding these kids, but it certainly cannot help when we are waving a flag of incompetence and saluting it.

I think about that movie, "My Fair Lady," another musical (ironic on my part, or just lazy? You decide) in which Henry Higgins finally creates a breakthrough for Eliza, reminding her that our common language is the greatest thing we could possess. Beneath the idealistic and corny words themselves, there is great truth in that. Our language is an equalizer, allowing us to come from whatever background we are thrown and find a commonality. I understand the need for casual language, I realize even other languages have both formal and informal usages. However, I fear that we have become too lax in ours, the linguistic equivalent of wearing gym shorts to a black-tie affair.

What will become of us if we care only to get by, put in little but expect much? IDK.

Deal or No Deal

So Joe went off to bed and before I went too I decided to just briefly scan the listings on Vehix.com. As I went through page after page of posts that I had already checked and cast off, I came across two new ones. So new that the listings had barely any info about them- no pic and no exact location.

But the basic specs were there- one was for another Ford Sportage, older but with less mileage, while the other was another 2005 Hyundai Tuscon. My eyes jumped to the Tuscon immediately, especially when I saw the price. Then I looked at the next major thing on my checklist, the mileage, and frowned. At over 90k miles, I knew it would be a stretch.

Still, the price was within my range so I filled out a request for more information and when the email came I immediately wrote back.

The next day Joe and I planned how the day would go- we would visit two more dealerships and if I still didn't see anything I liked I would reconsider the Sportage I had ridden the previous night. First up for the day was a Honda CRV.

Honda CRV-

PROS: Reliable make and model. Price was (somewhat) reasonable. Very low mileage.

CONS: Old (2002). Nothing exciting and ugly color.

We pulled up to the dealership and met with the salesman. He explained that the car was either being inspected or had been sold off, so he left us to find out. We stood around inside the small used-car building for a good 15-20 minutes. He then returned, said they were still looking for it, and went back out.

Meanwhile I began to get a little impatient. Not with the salesman, but I realized I was getting more excited to see the Tuscon than this car, so since he still hadn't located it, and Joe had to be back at a certain time to get ready for his show, the salesman suggested we return in an hour and by then they will have located it.

So we hopped back in my sloppy jalopy and headed for the Tuscon.

Hyundai Tuscon-

PROS: Well within my price range. Newer year. Ranked well in Consumer Reports and Edmunds.

CONS: High mileage. Bigger engine.

We pulled up the next place on fumes and walked in to be greeted by David, the salesman here. He seemed excited to show us a couple of other cars while another person was looking at the Tuscon. Finally they left, and without putting any kind of money down to hold the car, so it was our turn. He walked us out to it and I was in love- small and sporty, yet roomy inside. Easily foldable back seat. Privacy partition in the back. Trunk and window separately open. Heated leather seats...AND a SUNROOF! Even a pocket to put my sunglasses. I was sold.

Thankfully I had test-driven two Tuscons already and driving this one reminded me again why I liked them. They are so smooth, really like driving a car, not necessarily a truck. Joe and I drove along the highway, even to higher speeds, and the Tuscon just glided easily under my hands.

When we pulled back into the dealership Joe tried to coach me into having a poker face, which eventually fell by the wayside. I soon became a yammering yes-doll. Thankfully Joe was there to ask the questions I should've been asking, and we actually didn't get ripped off- well almost.

The thrilling conclusion tomorrow...

LOST on a test drive

Fer real, I am keeping this sucker short. For one, I don't really have a topic in mind and two, I'm sucking in barely enough air through one nostril. I guess I am in the grips of a cold, which sucks. I can normally deal with the blocked off nose, but the cough is just annoying. Especially when it wakes me up in the middle of a sound sleep. Poor Joe is suffering too, but I'm trying to blow my nose as quietly as possible. Oh well, chances are he'll get it from me soon anyway and then we'll lovingly keep each other awake.

But instead of rambling about illness again, I have more exciting news to offer- I am about 90% a car-owner. Yes, I am happy about the car and no, I have no idea as to what I will obsess over instead. And I cam upon it very much the same way I happened upon attending Towson University. Back then I didn't exactly have schools pounding on my door, so my options for college were a tad limited. I was certain I was set to go to one school (Virginia Wesleyan) and while it is a nice school I still wasn't sure it was the school for me. As we drove home from looking at it I could tell I was depressed because I would be going there because I hadn't any other choice, and not because I really wanted to go there. When we arrived home, there in the mail pile was an acceptance letter from Towson University. I remained objective when we finally went out to see that school the following weekend, but in the end I knew the fit was right. Oddly enough, Fate once again intervened to help me make my big decision....

Last Friday I was scrolling through the latest car listings on Autotrader and happened upon what looked like the car I had been waiting for- small, low mileage and reasonable price. And bonus- a sunroof! I don't know why but I was secretly gunning to have a sunroof in my next car.

I tried to calm my excitement as Joe and I drove to the dealership to take a look. It was getting dark and cold so I was only able to take a brief look at it before the salesman was already to start talking numbers. Things were moving so fast and I hadn't even taken it for a test drive yet. I finally asked the guy if I could and as he handed me the keys Joe stayed behind to watch the dog (whom he had brought with him, since we didn't know how long we'd be). I sat in the car and waited for the salesman to join me in the front seat. Instead he just handed me the keys and waited for me to close the door, then walked back inside. Umm ok. I had never been in a test drive where the salesman didn't accompany me, so that was weird.

I realized I would be flying completely solo- probably not the best idea since my sight isn't the best at night and I had little familiarity with area (and no one to advise me). Still I pulled out into traffic and decided to see what the car was like at higher speeds. I suddenly realized the road I was on became a long stretch of highway. I tried to keep myself calm and just told myself I'd simply get off at the next exit. Unfortunately there were few signs and only one other exit..that lead to I-95.

To make matters worse I realized that the headrests in the back seats were obstructing my view from behind and I hadn't had the chance to play with the mirrors, so I'm basically driving blind..while driving blind. Meanwhile I'm bouncing up and down and gripping the wheel like life itself, trying to get used to the very "truck-like" feel of this car that I was warned about on many automotive sites.

Finally I see a blessed streetlight, but with no easy way to turn around I simply make a right....down onto ANOTHER (yet smaller) highway that eventually lead to a mall. A few more turns there, and trying like hell to remember my way back, I found myself bouncing all the way back to the dealership, where I promptly handed back the keys and told him I'd think about it.

As we came home I was downtrodden that the car I was so excited about turned out to be a dud. But little did I know that Fate had something ELSE in mind....

The sequel tomorrow...

Brief Moments

You have to think that there is someone out there, be it God or Fate or whatever, that enjoys your moments of stupidity, right? I mean those moments when you really have to look around and make sure there is no one there- you have to think SOMEONE is laughing at your expense.

Take the other day...

Georgia the Dog is many things. And one of those things, is gassy. I have been around dogs for the better part of my youth, and yet I have NEVER come across a dog as flatulent as this one. And they aren't the cute little pipsqueak farts, they are the rank old sour Puppy Chow kind that infect the air so that you are left gasping on the floor (sorry, didn't warn you if you were eating).

So I was just getting up from the couch when I leaned right into a fresh air-bomb that left me gagging. I reached for the ever-ready air freshener (and when you need an air freshener like an asthma inhaler, I think you know you have a problem) and sprayed it all around me. Only problem was I sprayed just as the heater kicked on so the fresh mountain scent was blown directly back into my face. I swung my arms like an orangutan trying to keep both the chemicals and toxic gas from choking the life outta me, and I had to wonder....someone must be enjoying moments like this, right?

Of course, in those instances you can at least take in the comfort that no REAL person is witnessing your worst moments. The same can not be said when you are out in public and Embarrassment singles you out.

Tonight my friend Ash invited me to accompany her to her gym. We spent a few minutes on the treadmills but then decided to give the ellipticals a go. I was a tad unsure as we noticed the only available machines with two next to each other were right in the front row, with at least 3 or 4 rows behind us. Still, we each took one and after she was finished with her workout I still had a few minutes left on mine. She mentioned she was going to work on her arms and left while I was huffing and puffing, trying not to pass out.

As I was trying to bang out the last few minutes I kept getting the feeling my pants were creeping down. They are not especially low exercise pants, but where the seam was kept making me think my pants were falling and exposing my underwear. So much so in fact that I casually tried to pull them up, just to make sure. Then in the distance I swear I heard a tittering of laughter. Now if you are at all like me, when you hear laughter in the background, no matter where you are, you automatically think it's at you. The feeling and fear of exposure returned so often that I started to not even fake it, and just kept yanking my not-even-falling-down pants up, till I probably looked like It's Pat on an elliptical.

As my workout concluded and I gave one final tug at the waistband, I began to think that maybe there is a force out there that gets some enjoyment out of seeing us in brief moments of embarrassment. And maybe the reason these moments are deployed around each other is to make sure none of us ever takes ourselves too seriously. Just make sure your pants stay up.

What's My Deal, Anyway?

I try too hard. I definitely do. I know this is a subject I have beaten to death (probably) but it really struck me just now as I was taking over over 6 minutes just to post something clever or meaningful on my wall on Facebook. I took at least 10 minutes to write something as a comment to someone's picture. And this is FACEBOOK we are talking about, not the ten commandments. Yet, I panic and freeze, just to type a simple LOL. I then spend the rest of the day worrying that in some realm of possibility my comment will come off bad and I'll end up looking like an asshole. I'm thinking I'm making George Constanza appear less obsessive and neurotic.

I have a feeling if someone for some reason was mentioning me to someone who had never met me their description would be the same, whether they liked me or not; only their inflections and delivery would be different.

EX 1: Person who likes me says in quiet desperation, "Oh she tries too HARD," while squinting the eyes and tilting their head slightly and sympathetically.

EX 2: Person who doesn't like me says more loudly and drawn out, "OH, she TRIIIES TOO hard," while rolling their eyes and rolling their head.

To the people who like me, I know what you mean. For the people who dislike me, I know what you mean, bite me (but still like me).

Anyway, speaking of trying too hard, I visited the place where trying too hard is an art form...the car dealership. Still on the hunt for my new car. Ready for a double whammy? I take Joe and convince him to sign on the loan with me, and lo and behold, we are approved! Call the guy I had been dealing with for the silver Hyundai Tuscon and....it was sold the previous night. God DAMN. In fact my mom had seen another one for sale (almost eerily the same..same year, about same mileage, and so same price. Kinda weird I'd stumble upon not one but 2 within my price range.

The salesman tells me to visit anyway to see what other cars they have but unfortunately I wasn't impressed with anything so today I decided to try my luck elsewhere.

I drove up solo to the Hyundai dealership in Towson, figuring if I were to find another Tuscon I'd have luck at an actual Hyundai dealership. I see one or two, but given the low mileage and young age, I'm doubtful. Still, the salesman asks if he can make it happen would I be interested? I say sure, if the numbers are right. I say off the bat that I have a loan ready and that I'd already done my research, even taken a Tuscon for a test drive before already. He seems to be uncomfortable with my not wanting to jump in for a test drive, so I quickly recover and say, "Um, I mean, sure, why not."

Now, I think the reason I hate the test drive is because I don't feel it's so much a test for the car, as much as a test for you, the driver. I feel like I'm back in driver's ed where every move and hesitation is recorded, and the guy next to me is just sitting in judgement. I glance at all the mirrors and windows at least a half dozen times in a 10 minute test drive. It doesn't help either when he shifts uncomfortably in his seat. I'll admit I'm not the best driver, but am I really cringe worthy?

We pull back into the dealership and it begins: the mating dance between salesmen and a possible sale. I am ready for the onslaught, but try to remain cool and unwavering. He explains the pricing and how I am CLOSE but that I'd either A.) have to put more money down or B.) apply for a bigger loan. Well, I don't have more cash than what I can put down and there's no way I'm pushing my luck for a bigger loan, especially if I think I can get a better deal elsewhere.

In the end, he did try. He even offered me a helluva lot more for my Altima than I think it's worth, but still I couldn't attempt to pick up the slack by putting myself in dire financial straits. When I was about to walk out the door he handed my keys and asked if I would wait. I did, thinking, 'here it comes...the big payout..' Instead he merely shook my hand and said thanks for dropping in.

So the search continues. I know you are out there, little SUV with a 4 cyl engine, sun roof, roof rack, 4 wheel drive, 86k miles or less, made by either Honda, Hyundai, or Kia for $9k...but where?

Insectuous

Had kind of a weird moment this morning. I was eating my bowl of cereal in the living room and Georgia was sitting beside me, staring off into space (she was, I wasn't...or maybe I was..who knows).

Anyway, when I finally centered on what she was looking at I realized it was a spider that had dropped down from the ceiling and clinging to a strand of web. I probably would never have noticed it if Georgia hadn't. The strand was so small it looked like the thing was truly hovering in midair.

Still, I leaped so fast off the couch you'd think my pants had caught fire. Georgia just kept gingerly trying to stand on her hind legs to snatch it up so I quickly took one more bite of my cereal and then smacked it with a shoe (the spider, not my cereal. I am a shameful English degree-holder).

Now that I recall, that was the second odd bug-type thing that happened recently. The first occurred yesterday, I think, but this week has been flying by so who knows. One of the fremps gave the other and me a small potted plant to put on our desks, an incredibly sweet gesture. A little while later one of our coworkers stopped by desk.

"So we'll probably have a meeting for that in a day or two....hmm...looks like you have a little friend," he said.

I wasn't sure what he was talking about until my head spun around and noticed one of those damn Japanese stink beetles climbing ostensibly from my little potted plant. Again, I overreacted and immediately pushed my chair away. We all began laughing because it did look as if it was a prank, but the fremp assured me it wasn't and apologized. After that we all quieted down, but I was still left to do something about the beetle. I explained how I was worried about the odor it would emit if I tried to kill it. My fremp Les explained how it really wasn't all that bad, unless you had your nose right up it, and encouraged me to just squash it.

Now, I don't know why, but I have a hard time even taking a tissue to squish a bug- its probably the wimpiest thing about me. I always figure somehow it will escape and suddenly crawl up my arm. It's also difficult because, unlike flies or mosquitoes, this thing is big enough to almost have a personality. I'm not saying I expect it to suddenly throw on a top hat and tap dance, but I'm sure it doesn't WANT to die. I was ready to just leave it alone, but I felt I should try to do my part in eradicating these things from our office.

So, I took a deep breath, plucked a tissue free, and gently place it on top of the beetle. I then knew I wouldn't have the guts to kill it so instead I tried to flick it away. Three attempts and three smacked fingers later, I finally decided to simply let it live. I justified it to myself by thinking I just gave it a pardon and that maybe I'd get some good karma out of it.

Still, things usually happen in threes...maybe I better check the sheets before bed tonight...

Fateful Food

Holy hell, is anyone else freaking out that it's almost Thanksgiving? I feel like I was JUST looking at my calendar and thinking, "Oh, we still have a few weeks till Halloween". But it never fails...this time of year is truly a roller coaster. You feel the click, click, click as you roll up towards Columbus Day, pass that and before you know it you feel the first drop of Halloween. From there the twists and turns come faster and faster- Thanksgiving, Christmas, New Year's, Valentine's Day...whew, it hurts my head and wallet when I think about it.

Still, I manage to have spare a weekend here and there, especially when it comes to friends visiting. Thanks again to Ken and Jay for spending the weekend, it was such a blast. And speaking of which...

You know how I say that it seems that fate likes to keep me from being on time? I think, in addition to that, fate likes to mess with my eating. No matter how much I try to be "lady-like" when I'm eating, I always get screwed. Example...

My friends and I were walking around Federal Hill when one brought our attention to a "cupcakery" shoppe as we walked by. Jay asked if we wanted to go in, and we decided to check it out. It was a tiny little place with delicate and enticing cupcakes, however they were shown individually in a small case each, like little frosted gems. I spied some chocolate confection and Jay purchased it for me. As we were walking I tried my damnedest to not make a mess: I carefully mouthed small bites, licking a little bit of frosting with each bite. However, as is the innate engineering problem with cupcakes, I found myself running out of cake and facing a small tower of frosting. I first encountered the faulty physics of cupcakes back in elementary school. There is no easy or clean way to eat a cupcake with your hands, unless u have an exceptionally big mouth. Finally I just had to go for it and smush the rest in my mouth, and hope for the best. There was, of course, collateral damage, and for the rest of the day was constantly wiping my mouth for any phantom chocolate.

But it doesn't stop with cupcakes. My fellow fremps and I decided to grab lunch out once and we opted for Chipotle. I ordered my usual, two soft and one hard tacos, and immediately realized I was putting myself in the middle of a messy meal minefield. It's one thing to be in the privacy of my own home, shoving a taco in my face, picking up whatever scraps have fallen out and dropping them back in my mouth. It's a bit different in public, and especially around work colleagues.

I ran over to grab a plastic knife and fork and tried to elegantly slice my taco with it. Now, I don't know what that thick slab of plastic is meant to cut but it did squat. I barely managed to cut through anything and the fork must've been coated in Pam, cuz every bite slid back in my red basket. Finally, I figured I could either starve or just pick it up and eat carefully-which is what I did. What I hadn't counted on was that my first bite was going to be smack-dab in the middle of the biggest chunk of beef. The rest of the taco fell out as I tried to quickly shovel the big piece of flesh and everything along with it in my mouth, so as to hasten any gross scene I was causing. Unfortunately it was also still hot, so it was scalding my mouth so bad my mouth fell open more. I finally swallowed what I could and quickly hid my mouth behind a napkin.

See? I try to be careful. I try to take my time and eat small bites. Somewhere out there is getting a good laugh at my eating expense. Hopefully you will join in with them. Anyway, thought this topic was especially fitting given the upcoming holiday. Tomorrow's a travel day for me, so if I don't get the chance, Happy Thanksgiving kids!