Complaints for April 30, 2002:

1. I can't stop being hungry.
2. The belt for my super-long jean jacket is mysteriously wet. This concerns me.
3. Heather is having a bad day.
4. I forgot to set Fear to record on the Tivo.
5. The light at the end of the exit ramp I use to get to work has inexplicably changed its timing. Now, it stays red for twice as long when I pull up to it in the morning. Who is responsible for this?

I'm sure there's more but that's all I can think of at the moment.

I was very upset to learn that the 100-year-old egg contestants ate tonight on Fear Factor wasn't really 100 years old, just old enough so that the "yolk turns into a horrible green mold and the white becomes a dark brown gel with an alkaline taste." Where is the integrity anymore, I ask you.

What in the he-ell is Billy Bob Thornton doing at the Fillmore? And do you think Angelina will be there? Maybe we should revive our Halloween costumes and go check it out.

Ah, the Amazing Race video is done! All awards, accolades, and prize money should be directed to my new hero, who is blessed with both patience and skill. And many name spellings.

Am I allowed to brag about being picked as a Random Blog Quote? Ok, so it's not like I'm a Blog of Note or anything, or even quote of the day, as they did pick two other quotes to accompany mine, including one from the scary blog, and it's really only because I voted on their site for a friend's quote, and no one's even voted on my quote... But still! I'm honored.

Last night I rediscovered a deep and latent love for the vintage Newlywed Game reruns on the Game Show Network. Good lord they're more entertaining than any sitcom on TV today. Last night, for instance, when arguing over the correct answer to "What's your husband's favorite thing to put on his weiner?" I learned that the proper condiment order is as follows: mustard, pickle relish, mayonaise, peanut butter, then onions. (Ah, such the bad-pun missed opportunity...) No matter how we try, there's simply no recreating the real thing, i.e. the glorious outfits, hair, and sensibility of the 70s. Here's to Broyhill furniture and wardrobes provided by Pierre Cardin.

It scares me that some people use Blogger to write about real, like, smart stuff.

Ever since my run-in at the eyeglass store, I've been super-duper friendly to the people I encounter on a daily basis. I guess I'm just trying to make certain I'm not sending off some sort of antisocial freak vibes or anything. Plus, it's just fun to be friendly. Take for instance these fine folks, who invited me to share their table during my layover at Cleveland Hopkins Airport. We enjoyed a Sam Adams together and traded Florida travel stories, and then they let me take their picture.

My flight out to Cleveland also provided a worthy addition to the Airline Food Project. Mmmm, meatloaf sandwich! On the way back, I got practically arrested at the DC airport for trying to bring back this thermometer shaped like the Washington Monument. I think the 67-year-old security employee yelled out, "She's got a spike!" or something along those lines. I was frisked, de-shoed, and swiped with strange-smelling gauze-like pads. Whoo-ee! Though if any weapon, it's particulary appropriate that I be carrying a spike.

What else. (Besides N Sync, I mean.) I got to see my long-lost friend Matt, who is fabulous in 103 different ways. I met Drake's good friends in Bethesda, was introduced to karaoke Washington-style, learned that we're lucky to have Frank, and spent quality time with the bestest of galpals.

Overall, a highly successful trip. And yes, the Amazing Race video was shot. Or, rather, "footage" for it was shot. Luckily I have a guardian angel coming to my rescue this weekend... Thank god for guardian angels.

When I explained to my manager today that I wasn't all that athletically inclined -- that is, after she announced our next team outing would be a sailing "regatta," which apparently involves some sort of seafaring/racing situation -- and she said, "Really?!" as in, no shit, just take a look at you! I wondered to myself: Now was that really necessary?

Since Sarah asked: My favorite moment of the N Sync concert was when vine-like ropes dropped from the ceiling, prompting each band member to grab ahold and swing – literally, like Tarzan – out into the audience. At least a good 10 or 15 feet out. Or, actually, there was that part when a huge horseshoe-shaped scaffolding contraption lowered from the very same ceiling so that the boys could traipse out into the whole of the crowd, spreading joy and invoking dog-pitched screams from the nether regions of DC’s MCI Center. Oh wait – the part where each one pulled up a barstool and they cracked jokes and chatted with the fans for 15 minutes? It’s just so hard to say.

Also, I have a t-shirt problem.

I have a few things to relate from the long weekend in our nation's fair capital. And pictures, of course. But, until there's more time for that, I instead will ask this:

Is it just plain wrong to wear a Wilco t-shirt to an N Sync concert? I did mention I was going to N Sync while in DC, didn't I? Oh maybe I didn't?

Interesting side note: Puff Daddy/P Diddy showed up (wearing Drew Bledsoe nostalgia jersey, no less) and wowed the 16-year-old crowd with his rendition of "How You Remind Me." He was pretty good, I dare say.

I'm not ashamed, I'm not! Those boys know how to dance.

Peach finally did throw up. Thus, last night, she and Mary were eliminated from The Amazing Race. Such a shame. I will have to remember to bring along the Emetrol when we get picked. (I'm inclined to fall victim to "food or drink indiscretions.") We learned yesterday that the deadline for Race 3 applications is May 8, foiling previous plans to make a video over Memorial Day weekend. Luckily! I am going to DC this weekend anyway, so it looks like we'll throw something together on Saturday. Thus, if you have any advice or ideas, speak now or forever regret not helping us get on TV...

Jen reported today about a new form of karaoke going on in NYC: live karaoke where you sing along with an actual band. Wow, I'm not sure even I would be up for that. Cheesy beach/80s hair/horse-riding videos are much less intimidating.

Finally, I found this old, pre-San Francisco picture of me and Jess kicking around my Hotmail folders this morning. (I keep getting the blasted warnings that I'm running out of space...) We had it taken at one of those silly background-adding machines at the Levi's store downtown, when we were both visiting northern CA before moving here. It's hard to believe that was us, just a little more than 2 years ago. We look so young (not to mention corny) and nothing like our SF selves. Amazing what years 28 and 29 yield in terms of wrinkles.

Someone's a little peeved about my, Sarah's and Heather's excessive use of commenting on Monday's post. You're right, and I apologize. But some of the blame must be laid at the feet of Blogkomm, for all their redundant commenting problems.

In related news, Sarah has moved over to The Minister. I will miss the Geocities pop up ads, for sure, but welcome the comments. Hey, where are the comments?? (I think I have a commenting problem...)

As my Microsoft cafeteria cohorts have attested to before, a trip to the "Cosmic Cafe" is never complete without an embarassing run-in or a suspect side dish. Recently, all of the below have been part of my lunchtime experience:

a. A food compilation that resulted in a charge of $6.66. Since this also just happened to Heather, at her local grocery, I figure we must be cursed. Completely cursed.

b. Victim of false poultry-smuggling accusations. Today the check-out guy looked at the salad bar fixins piled on top of my veggie burger with great hesitation and suspicion. When I, in a flustered state, tried to explain away my excessive use of the salad bar for sandwich toppings, he looked at me a little funny and proceeded to tell the tale of a guy at his last job who would attempt to hide three or four chicken breasts under his salad on a daily basis. I assured him this was not the case here. I mean, they don't even serve actual chicken at our cafeteria.

c. Victim of false "hey don't I know you" recognition. This happens quite often at and around the cafeteria, and manifests itself in different, equally uncomfortable situations. Take this one, also today: I said "Hello, John, how are you?" to a coworker I know while accumulating the aforementioned fixins. Another guy, to the left of me, apparently also named John (what are the chances??) replied, "Hi, fine thanks! And you?" Unfortunately I had no idea who John #2 was, so instead of trying to explain this and further confuse the situation, I chose to ignore him. Always a beacon of fine manners, I am.

d. The infamous salad bar maxing out. Occurs on a regular basis.

It's a tricky, tricky place, this Cosmic Cafe. And I think I failed to mention that yesterday, my manager brought a bird to our weekly group meeting. A bird that proceeded to shit all over the conference room chairs, table, and then, finally, her shoe. Not that this has anything to do with the Cafe, of course. At least not that I know of. Yet.

It's true: the brie definitely came off best in Saturday night's picture set.

I'm a little disappointed with the new camera -- especially the flash factor on the inside shots. Please, tell me what you think. I imagine I can still return it? Though the outside shots at high resolution are quite lovely. Hm.

I found out today that one of the girls I tutor has never heard of Nancy Drew. She's 13. This is a sinful crime and will be rectified by me, pronto. No Nancy Drew! Christ on a bike.

This weekend resulted in two nagging questions: 1. What was the name of the “fancy” brand of nightgowns worn by us east coast girls, ages 7-12? and 2. Who was the second female lead in the beyond-corny 80s-esque movie starring Kirstie Alley and John Laroquette that aired in SF at 2AM this past Sunday morning? She looks so damn familiar.

And the highly anticipated answers are:

1. Lanz of Salzburg. I really can’t believe I wore these once, even if I was just 10.
2. Alison LaPlaca. I totally remember her, though I can’t claim any specific memory of her acting endeavors. Maybe, just maybe, Duet.

I had to get a new Microsoft badge this morning – I’m on number 5 or 6. I really do think I lost the old one, though I have to admit to not trying all that hard to find it. Each time you get a new one, they ask if you want a new picture, and of course I always do. It’s an ongoing quest to see exactly *how* demented their crazy funhouse camera can make me look. This time: I showed the new (and improved, I thought) badge to a coworker, and she said, “Wow, you look like Monica from Friends! I mean when she wore the fat suit.” Lovely. At least I know where to go for honesty.

Last thing: I told this story about 10 times this weekend, so I'll make it short and sweet en-blog. I sum, I was verbally attacked by a fellow patron while trying on glasses frames in downtown Palo Alto on Saturday afternoon. She basically accused me of being “ignorant,” then in a panicked state asked me about 23 times if I “wanted something” from her. All this was very bizarre and really freaked me out, as I was simply trying on different frames and waiting for the sales guy to help me. Of course, I want to believe she was purely insane, but I also have to wonder: If you really are ignorant, then you probably don’t know when you’re being ignorant, right? Could she be on to something here?

Like Heather, I must admit to loving "christ on a bike" without full knowledge of what it actually means. (It just sounds cool, and usually that's enough for me.) In my search for the truth, I came upon a few different theories:

1. Here, Christ on a Bike appears to be the name of an actual TV sitcom. Of course, it's British. Of course, the picture alone is enough to convince me to convert. To Britishism, I mean.
2. Another entertainment outlet seems to take the saying a little more seriously, combining the "bike" motif with a religion theme to create an "action sports/christian message movie." Wait, is this a joke?
3. On August 29, 2001, this kind blogger used "Jesus H. Christ on a bike" as an expression of distress. He stopped blogging just more than one month later. Coincidence?
4. Ah ha! Maybe it originated from "Kids in the Hall." This revealing post seems to imply so.

Okay, I'm not sure I've made any progress here. But I am certainly learning a lot of British these days. Plus, I like research projects.

I just realized (after 1+ years with them) that my web hosting service provides stat reports for traffic, search terms people use to find my site ("pleather pants," "Paula Devicq anorexia," "Allyson Stern") and the like. The discovery led me to this most excellent definition of a "run-on sentence," which I'll have to incorporate into my site somewhere. I especially like the part where it says, "The effect is that the reader loses the main idea of the sentence." Neat.

I had lunch with a coworker of mine earlier this week, and we spent much of the time discussing previous lives. The best part was when I learned that he once worked for a company that provides ransom insurance for celebrities. (I've heard of insuring body parts, naturally, but ransom insurance?! Kidnapping is so, like, 1970. Saying "so, like, 1970" is so 1990s. It's a vicious circle, really. Vicious circle, or cycle? I never know.) Of course, I immediately asked if he actually met any of these high-value objects of desire. He said no, sadly, but that he did believe Aaron Spelling was a client.

I really need to remember to use "christ on a bike" as my expression of choice when wanting to convey disappointment or disgust. It's just so damn good!

Bryan just brought home a pint of the new Dave Matthews-inspired Ben and Jerry's: One Sweet Whirled. Though I could comment on the commercialization of DMB and the need for artists to hawk themselves in a shallow, retail-driven consumer culture, instead I will just say: Why, oh why, must Ben and/or Jerry insist on putting marshmallow and caramel into every goddamn flavor? This is seriously upsetting.

A few burning news items to report:

1. I heard on the radio this morning that Burger King will give you 50 cents off the new "Chicken Whopper" if you come on in and cluck like one. A chicken, I mean. Must we humiliate Burger King clientele even more? (Yes, fine, I'm a fast food snob.)

2. Yesterday Drake sent me this list of shows either cancelled or on the bubble for next season. It's an interesting read. Most deserving: The cancellation of is-that-show-still-on "Dharma and Greg." Most distressing: The bubble status of "Amazing Race." Taking this show off the air before season 3 will alter my entire life's course.

Finally, does anyone know what "naffly" means? This is either a typo or I'm terribly out of date.

I'm sure there must be an old Jewish proverb warning against she who wears red clogs to her step-sister's wedding.

I had a minor meltdown tonight when I discovered that some of my photos were inadvertently taken a low resolution. This upsets me greatly, because I had such grand plans for creating print albums for the newlyweds. Argh.

This photo provides further proof that the right side of my face is actually melting into my neck. But I'm okay with that.

This one, on the other hand, is my favorite, and luckily, it was taken at 2048x1536.

Moving on.

So I have this strange preoccupation with airline food. Well, maybe "preoccupation" isn't quite the right word. Love/hate relationship with? Unusual interest in? Odd attraction to? Whatever it is, it's definitely not healthy. (In more ways than one.) I'm always optimistically curious to see what the chefs at United or American have cooked up for us each flight, and I recently curtailed my brief flirtation with vegetarian meals because they were simply too wholesome. I guess there's something freakishly fascinating about an airline's ability to take chicken and rice to such terrifying depths.

So, I was inspired on the flight back from New York, new digital camera in hand, to begin a photographic study of in-flight meals across the world. Unfortunately, this effort is momentarily hampered by the fact that I don't actually fly across the world. Perhaps, I'm thinking, a wealthy benefactor will stumble upon my site and choose to fund this most noble and worthy venture. Until that time, I have captured for your edification this meal, taken on my recent Delta JFK-SFO leg; and I scanned in a print I snapped of the most intriguing Greek meal served on an Olympic airlines flight from Athens to Barcelona this summer. (That's ATH to BCN, in case you were wondering.)

In lieu of a rich benefactor, please send your own airline food photos my way.

It's probably a good thing that I'm heading back east this weekend, as I've spent way too much time working on this here blog the past few days. But I must say it's been greatly rewarding, and I thank you all for your copious use of the new commenting system! So far so good.

So my step-sister is getting married on Saturday, and I'm actually looking forward to the wedding. It's theme: casual, as evidenced by my choice of (red) jean jacket and (red) clogs for attire. Of course, I will be wearing a skirt as well. Though I've sensed a bit of trepidation from friends on the jean jacket part (but it's red! and from France! via vintage!), I somehow think Christy will appreciate the outfit. I admire her resolve in keeping the guest list small and the attitude nonchalant. She and her new husband are moving to Ireland at the end of May, which is even more exciting.

Luckily, my new digital camera arrived this morning, just in time to make me event photographer. (They didn't hire a professional one.) I'm totally into it since a) it is compatible with all the Sony equipment and peripherals we already have and b) it's 3.34 megapixels. Oh and c) it looks cool and is really small. The idea is to take 20 or so good shots, then get a print album made for her from iPhoto or some PC-related alternative I think I heard about.

While I'm on the topic, I highly recommend getting such a/v stuff from goodguys.com -- you get no tax AND free shipping! What's there to complain about?

Since Drake and I plan to be on The Amazing Race 3, we like to recap each episode to date by deciding who would've done the weekly "Roadblock," which is, as dashing host Phil explains, "a task which only one team member can perform." Last night's bat cave had me a bit spooked, especially since this would likely be my duty as I cannot perform anything that requires physical strength or sense of direction. In other words, I'd get stuck with all the gross stuff.

As for teams, I was so pleased that the noncouple gay guys didn't get eliminated. They're funny, nice to everyone and have been getting by mostly on the strength of their diplomatic skills. Though I do love to hate Peach (of "Mary and Peach" fame) because she says "I think I'm gonna throw up" at least twice every episode.

Thanks to Heather's friend Ezra, you now have a chance to post all the blog-related things you've been simply busting to tell me. I can't believe I actually got it working: Since the preferred method (yaccs) is no longer taking new blogs, I implemented instead the blogkomm system which allows for in-line commenting as opposed to pop-up commenting. (Oh the geek factor...) This system required me to alter the chmod settings on the files uploaded to my web server and change my blog to a "php" file. I'm not even kidding. I also added style sheets to play with the font size -- but I can't figure out how to make those dark black brackets smaller. If you know, please, um, comment.

I'll test out this whole commenting thing for 2 weeks and if it's too depressing (no comment, no comment, no comment) I'll return to blogging in a nice, safe, dark vacuum. Thank you and good night.

Or maybe this. I do buy wigs pretty much every year for Halloween, and I've even experiemented with styling and cutting once or twice.

Emode is driving me up a friggin wall. I just spent 10 minutes answering all sorts of questions about my work-related persona (though I do love to see that I fit into some pattern that requires, "When out with a group of people, I'm always checking to see if everyone is having a good time." Yes! Yes!) and then it tells me I have to pay $14.95 to discover the title of my dream job. Despite the fact that I know someone who works there, I may have to boycott the site altogether.

(I did find out I was "personable and creative." Perhaps I'm meant to be a stripper after all.)

Apparently I have a spending problem, at least according to First USA Bank. Today was the second time in as many months that they called me to verify my purchases. I know this is "only for my protection" and it's "just a precaution," but I choose to think they're being judgemental.

In related news, I checked back with TurboTax this evening as instructed, only to learn that my federal return was "rejected by the taxing authority." This is the first year in my whole taxpaying life that I'm actually getting a substantial refund, so I decided to file electronically for the low low price of $12.95. I did so in hopes, of course, of receiving my refund before First USA bills me for said spending spree. Rejected! I need to do some legwork to fix the mistake, so the prospects of a timely refund are quickly dwindling. Damn.

Today at work someone was talking about "fragels," fried bagels that one can find only in Lansing, Michigan. (Or so I'm told.) And here I thought that deep-fried turkeys were crazy... I wonder what other unexpected foods might taste good fried.

I finally watched Zoolander on Sunday. Though I wouldn't say it was a great movie, it did have its share of funny lines ("Sting would be another person who's a hero. The music that he's made over the years, I don't really listen to, but I respect the fact that he's making it.") And, if nothing else, I finally got to see the C-List celeb we met in Vegas this past January. He was Christine Taylor's brown-nosy assistant guy.

Ah! Much better.

Everyone is all abuzz with The Osbournes. All I can say is: Subtitles. Please.

I'm really mad that all of the images at the top of my blog are broken. But, but, I worked so hard on them last night! Dreamweaver is totally messin' with me. Sometimes, you think all the images are linked properly, but then the next day at work you realize it was just calling them off your hard drive... I'm sure this is a total novice mistake but for some reason I've been doing it for years. Argh.

Well, if anyone actually reads this thing today (anyone? anyone?), at least they'll have a reason to come back tomorrow.

"See what all the little "x"s are supposed to be!"