This is going to cause problems for me.

I've already seen TWO men in the newly-women's locker room. The looks on their faces were priceless, but will definitely be less amusing when its on my face instead.

Speaking of the BSC, one of my frequent complaints about their facilities is that we're not allowed to take photographs of other members. That stuff is seriously blog-worthy, and I just don't believe in my power to paint a verbal picture of all the craziness I see. It's ridonkulous. More ridonkulous than the word ridonkulous, fo' realz.

But, unfortunately, there are signs posted everywhere that if you use a camera (or a camera-phone) you will immediately lose your membership, and I would not want to deal with the embarassment of that. I did, however, whip out my camera phone the other day when I was watching Trivial Pursuit. This girl just looked so DUMB. The pictures don't really capture it. She needs to go on What Not to Wear worse than anyone I've ever seen before. I hope Christopher Knight (My Fair Brady, husband to the first America's Next Top Model, and apparently host of Trivial Pursuit) nominates her secretly. Clinton and Stacy would pummel this blonde bimbo:

While I was taking this I was imagining one of the trainers coming over to me and initiating something like this conversation:

Trainer: Hey! Is that a camera?

Me: Um...no. Yes. Not really.

Trainer: You can't use that in here!!

Me: But I was just taking a picture of my TV...

And then I felt weird that I've become a person who takes pictures of TVs.

In other news, I made this ring today:

It kind of looks like something I would have purchased on a 3rd grade field trip to the museum...but having made it myself makes it so much more special.

Feast of Love

[Note - Cassie's computer sucks and I tried to blog all of this stuff as it was happening, but unfortunately could not. Here it all is, as recorded in the diary of my brain.]

Friday

As promised, my parents brought a barrel full of laughs with them down the interstate, but first, Cassie and I got in some nice girl time...ALONE. I made her cuddle me, hold my hand, and kiss my cheeks basically...non-stop. She hated it. I loved it. She's just so adorable.

She did take me to a den of sin called "AC Moore" and tried to get my hooked on crack, though.

Then, Bonnie and Doug arrived with these thoughtful gifts for me:

Three Cadbury Creme Eggs and a self-help book. Nice.

We spent the evening having dinner and giggling like a happy family should. I can't really remember what we did... Eh, must not have been blog-worthy.

Saturday

Saturday brought joys untold, including the best joy of all - the joy of knowledge. Bonnie researched a great spot for us to learn how to tap trees for maple syrup, the Genessee County Museum. We arrived early to fill our bellies with this delicious meal (buffet style, of course):

Then we were ready to tour around the countryside. This "museum" was actually a collection of old houses and other buildings that have been restored and are filled with human reinactors. They were a real treat. I suspect they also work at the Renaissance Faire during that season. (Speaking of which, Cassie got lost at a Renaissance Faire once when she was very young...but that's a story for another post.) Here are some pics:

I took this one primarily because I knew Mom would not want a picture of her rear end on the Internet:

Later that night, we exhaustedly settled in to Mom and Dad's hotel room to find that Mom had rented us a movie about a lesbian love triangle. She tried to pass it off as a "just some comedy" but Cassie and I were not fooled.

Sunday

Saturday and Sunday were the ying and yang of days. Saturday was pure joy, and Sunday was pure sadness. First, Mom and Dad left to drive home, which wrenched my heart in two. Second, I got a stomach virus and vomited all over Cassie's bathroom, which her roommate Eileen had to clean up. It was horrid - although, to my surprise, I think I heard Eileen singing quietly to herself whilst cleaning, so maybe it wasn't as bad as I thought. No...it was. It really was.

On a not-sad note, before the leaving and puking commenced, we went to Cassie's church where I snapped this pic of the worship band:

No words necessary. Also, I know for a fact that mine eyes caught a glimpse of Cassie taking wine for communion when there was juice clearly offered. Never in my life would I have imagined such a disgrace. Mom and Dad stayed chastely to the Welch's side of things. I let you guess which wild vine I pursued.

All in all, Rochester isn't really the most fun of all towns I've ever visited, but the Beams always class-up and fun-up any place we're at, so it was a good time. I spent Monday there too, but it was such a bust that it doesn't deserve its own section of this post. I basically just moped around and imagined the smell of vomit everywhere I went. Nast.

Ferrero Rocher

Having previously established myself as the premier photojournalist of our time, I planned early on to capture this weekend in digital images. I am visiting my sister in Rochester, NY -- a beacon of middle-class Americana, which currently looks to me like a big pile of crap, but after a few more years of this recession will probably live on in my memory as a city of impossible wealth.

My flight was awkward and uncomfortable. It was on one of those tiny little planes, the kind that have just 3 seats per row and like 2.5 inches of legroom. I was sitting next to this kindly gentleman:

He wanted to strike up a conversation, but I did not relent.

Cassandra "Boobs" Beam picked me up at the Buffalo airport in this fine stallion of a sedan:

She was looking as boobalicious as ever, and refused to help me with my luggage. I stowed it MYSELF and then hopped in the seat to let her drive me off into the sunset. I immediately asked her where the closest Arby's was, and she happily took me there. ("Oh Jack, you know I love my Big Beef and Cheddar.") I love Arby's so much. It is by far my favorite of all the fast food chains. It also offered me this fortuitous message:

Yes. Yes I will, Arby's.

So far, the second best thing about Rochester (first best being the proliferation of Arby's) is the radio stations! We all know I love a good "Magic" or "The River" to get my soft rock fix, and they are supplying me heartily. Toad and the Wet Sprocket, I had all but forgotten you! But thanks to 100.5 reminding me of your beauty and talent, you just got yourself about a haypenny of royalties from my recent iTunes purchase of "Walk on the Ocean." You're welcome. Put it towards your kids' college fund.

More to come tomorrow, I'm sure. Douglas and BJ arrive in the PM and will be excellent fodder for more journalizing.

Am I a baby cougar?

Today I was at Starbucks doing a little reading/latte drinking (simultaneously trying to ingratiate myself in the out-of-work community) when a heavenly angel seated himself right in front of me. I couldn't believe my luck - he was so handsome! He pulled out his laptop and some books and settled in to study, all while I admired his choice of outfit, hairstyle, and unshaven face.

Then, fate pulled the unlikeliest stunt of all time. I looked at the book he was holding, and to my extreme surprise, saw that it was "The Official SAT Study Guide." The kid I was looking at was, what, maybe 17 years old?? Maybe even 16!? I couldn't wrap my mind around it. Look for yourself! Does this kid look like he's in high school?

I think not. I tried to distract myself with the opening chapters of War and Peace (I have a lot of time on my hands...) but that obvi wasn't working. I found myself thinking of things I could say to convince him to give an older woman a chance. Things like: I don't live with my parents; I could buy you beer; or the ever-popular, I'll write you a note to get you out of homeroom.

Fortunately (or unfortunately, depending on how you look at it) I left before I could do anything creepy. I kind of regret it though. We totally could have had a beautiful life together, much like Seth Cohen and that blonde bartender that he dated for a while (before she left him for Marissa). Or, better yet, I do recall an episode of Home Improvement where the oldest son dates a girl in her 20s...

I'm getting carried away. This is gross, and I'm going to get arrested. Moving on.

Goodbye Shepley! (I hated you anyway.)

Today is day 1 of "working for myself" a.k.a. unemployment. So far, getting laid off is awesome. I found myself accidentally thinking today, "I hope I don't get a job too soon. I kind of want to enjoy some time off..." Of course that's not really true; I plan to accept any job that comes my way, and hopefully it will be soon. But I can't help it if so far I just feel like I'm on an unexpected vacation!

Here's a list of my activities so far today:

1. Watched Regis and Kelly. (They were doing their "America's Most Beautiful Baby!" competition which was adorable. Also, Kelly shoes were p-h-a-t and upon seeing them, I did feel sad that I don't have an income anymore which would permit me to purchase them.)

2. Went to the unemployment office, made friends with lots of the government workers there, had my head scanned by a metal detecting wand, and then was turned away for trying to apply too early. I have to go back Monday. No big, I have nothing else to do anyway.

3. Deep-cleaned my apartment. It is SPARKLING! I love it.

4. Emailed two places about volunteer opportunities. I want to stay busy to ward off boredom-induced depression, and I also think that if I ever get an interview, I can slip that little tidbit in and my potential employer will be really impressed with my industriousness.

So, things are really looking up, and I am feeling quite happy about this opportunity for change. However, I can't let my happiness overshadow my practical-ness, and make me forget that I'm poor now. Because I am, or will be shortly. If anyone has any loose change, there's a Dunkin Donuts cup outside my door. You know what to do.

edit to previous post

If you can't read the diagram in the post below (and you probably can't, its ridic small) just click on it. It should open in a new screen, MUCH larger.

Yay!

“You all up in the kool-aid, but you do not know the flavor…”

Professional writer Jaclyn Marie Beck has agreed to do a guest piece for my blog today. I'm extremely pleased with the results, and I think you all will be too. If not - feel free to throw virtual tomatoes at her.

Sam and I have a lot in common. We both love sushi, we both hail from the mid-Atlantic region, we both appreciate a good game of do-marry-kill, and we both like to drink through straws. However, of the various things that bring us together in laughter and in tears, nothing eternally unites us as comrades more than the deep appreciation of a single rock and roll band: Aerosmith.
Aerosmith is such a part of our friendship that many a conversation is centered around the band whose fan base spans three generations. Sam once heard an Aerosmith song playing in the locker room at the gym, and thought of me. I once told Sam that if she’s not “livin’ on the edge,” she’s taking up space.

Needless to say, Steven Tyler’s ribbon adorned microphone stand has been keeping us going since January ’06, and I can’t think of a better way to thank him than with a Venn Diagram- a compilation of striking and uncanny similarities that unites the three of us into a single whole- for all the world to see. *Cue “Just Push Play”*

Finally, let's end on a more serious note. While we personally like to think that The Steven is immortal and will be with us forever, experience has proven that he will probably die one day. Fortunately, when we take our inevitable trip to his graveside to weep a few tears and pour out a splash of our Mike's Hard Limeade on the grass, we know what we'll be reading on his tombstone. (This is factual, taken from the erudite, impervious interwebs.)

Here lies Steven.
The Deamon of screamin
Who never woke up from the dream he was dreamin

Till one day he took some magic potion

Now all that's left is sweet emotion

Babar

I stumbled upon two really weird news stories about elephants today.
http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/asia-pacific/7934419.stm
http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/asia-pacific/7597835.stm

My questions regarding the first article:
1. There is such thing as an elephant orphanage? Do the elephants sleep in dormitories on twin beds and eat cold gruel for breakfast?
2. What do they mean when they say elephants work in the forests close to the Thailand border? What kind of work does an elephant do?

My questions regarding the second article:
1. What the heck?
2. Seriously, what the heck?

if you like it then you shoulda put some schmear on it

Title of this post = new hit song by my band, Sandy Cohen and the Lox Pox.

I wanted to take advantage of my position as the proprietor of this most excellent public arena to talk a little about a very important food group in my life: bagels. This weekend I found the best bagel place EVER. Espresso Royale, 286 Newbury Street. Go there. Be happy. Spread the joy of bagels.

Second order of business: I don't exactly know how to go about this, but I am trying to start a blog protest of Gossip Girl and their yellow-bellied, two-faced, inconsiderate ways. What is UP with all of these reruns? Every week, more reruns! So, I feel like there is a way to unite bloggists everywhere to send a message to the CW, but I have no idea how. I guess I just write my thoughts here and hope it catches on in a sort of "small town girl reaches the masses and changes the face of TV forever" kind of way. So here it is: Gossip Girl, mend your ways. Or else!

my precioussss

Yesterday at school I made a real, not amateur-looking piece of wearable jewelry! Please see below:

It looks simple...and it is. But surprisingly complicated to make. It took about 2.5 hours, which is actually less than I had been planning on. It's made of two pieces of silver, hollow in the middle. Very exciting. And I fully intend on telling people that it was "forged in the fires of Mordor."

Also while I was there, I walked through one of the galleries, and loved the paintings that were hanging there. I'm not sure if the painter is a student or not. His name is Chris Reid - I assumed it is a student, since I couldn't find anything about him when I googled his name. But he's very talented. I was pretty amazed. Here are a few of my favorites: (Reproduced without permission of any kind. But I figure, this is like free advertising, and fully credited to the artist, so hopefully I won't end up in jail.)

Al's Favorite

Today is a day of many posts! My internet hasn't been working at home, so I haven't been able to update as much as I wanted to.

We'll start with my attempts at photo-journalizing my Friday evening.

Mary kindly picked me up at work! It was kind of a disastrous time of us both yelling into our phones "I don't know where I am! Where are you?" but when we finally found each other, peace was restored and we laughed about it.

We met at Sarah's house, where she blessed us with champagne and a wheel of Brie.

Jenelle came!

We moved on to La Famiglia Georgio's for dinner. The knife is sort of a metaphor for the damage that occured. I would have included a picture of my enlarging ass but didn't feel comfortable with that. But, you get the idea. The lasagna was amazing, the carbonarra was a little too eggy for my taste, and overall it was an explosion of calories and guilt.

I only eat at restaurants that are Phantom-approved.

After dinner we hit up the Sail Loft (is that what its called?) for some fun times and cougar-watching.

I spent most of the rest of the evening watching this guy. I have a strange penchant for bald men. I can't explain it, nor do I even want to try. But he was beautiful.

my best friend Leslie says, "oh she's just being Miley."

It's going to be a great day, for the following reasons:

1. When my alarm went off at 6:05am, I popped awake feeling joyful and rested, which is about as rare as a liger bred outside of captivity.

2. My favorite coworker is wearing a vest today, similar to the one pictured.

3. In the elevator this morning I was alone with a man who works on another floor, and as soon as he got on a recorded female voice started singing from his briefcase. I thought it was his cell phone ringer and didn't really notice it, but he got really embarassed and started digging around frantically, and then pulled out a Miley Cyrus pen (apparently a singing pen) and screamed, "HAHA! SO WEIRD! I GUESS MY KIDS PUT THAT IN THERE. MY KIDS! ARE YOU A MILEY FAN?!" Yeah right, dude. That was YOUR Miley Cyrus pen, and you secretly play that song over and over again in your office and hum along. You can't pull the wool over my eyes.

These are the Days of our Cold, Dead Lives (Part Deux)

This has been contributed by the lovely Jenna "DJ Jamz" Mucciarone. Many thanks to her for this gem.

SCENE 17

[Meanwhile, across town, Sergey and the rest of the team have been quarantined in windowless room at the heart of the Ruggles Retirement Facility. There has been an accident. Everyone is dirty, as though they've been wrangling cattle back on the farm.]

Katrina (glaring at Josh): I can't believe you got us into this mess. If you had charged Frank's Box for an hour before dead time none of this would have ever happened!

Sergey: Kat, come on. Josh had no way of knowing that a poorly charged battery can lead to mixed signals from the spirits. We honestly thought that they were telling us to go further into the chemical storage room.

Katrina: Don't pretend like to believe this bullsh*t! Ghosts arent real!! I feel like I'm taking crazy pills! And now I will probably need to. Who knows what those chemicals will do to us?!

[Sergey vomits.]

Elfie: I'm sorry for lighting that cigarette so close to the cabinet labeled "flammable." I didnt know it would cause such a disaster. All those drums of peroxide, just toppled! I thought they'd be more sturdy.

Sergey: I hope it was worth it, you pagan freak.

Katrina: Serg! hey! That's not okay. In PRS we don't descriminate based on beliefs. I mean, Ryan's a "catholic" for chrissake.

Josh: (chuckles) Yeah, I hope he gives me one of those St. Michael medallions soon.

Elfie: Thanks, Kat. But none of this nitpicking is helping anyone, we need to figure out how to clean ourselves off and get out of this quarantine. Maybe if I smoke another cigarette the sprinklers will go off...

All: NO!

invisibility cloak - DEACTIVATE!

Today as I was leaving Borders, a man got in the revolving door WITH me. As in - he followed me into my little one-person-size section of the door. At first I didn't notice, but then he stepped on my heel. He quickly apologized, and left me wondering, Was he apologizing for stepping on me? Or for getting in the door with me in the first place?!

I can only draw one conclusion from this mishap: I am invisible. Or, sort of invisible. This isn't an isolated incident, either. Similar things have been happening at work, school, and the gym. People keep running into me, and upon impact they look up with genuine surprise and say, "Oh! I didn't even SEE you there!" And over the past few days, there have been several occasions when I've tried to hand my boss something, and she doesn't notice until the papers are directly in front of her face. Like - she can't see the human holding the papers. It gets awkward.

I think I'm going to start wearing a reflective biker's vest. If you have one that I can borrow, let me know. I'm worried for my safety.

murmurings

I like to try to listen for messages from the universe. You know -- wrangling the power of coincidence and stuff. Well, in the past 24 hours, the universe has sent me two HUGE, GLARING messages, which I will happily share here.

The first message was last night. As I was leaving my apartment to go to the gym, I found this gold medallion... dare I say, a Spanish doubloon? Wilder treasures my eyes have never had occasion to look upon. Probs going to quit my job and live off the proceeds of selling this to the highest bidder.

The second message is more detailed. I took a quiz at work today called "Who would you be in 1400AD?" and my answer was Harlequin. (Which I momentarily confused with Harlot, and was very upset/confused until I read the description.) This is what it told me:

You are a mystery, a jack-of-all-trades. You have the king's ear, but also listen to murmurings of the common folk. You believe in the value of force and also literature. Truly you are the puzzlement of the age.

Like...holy crap! I totally am the puzzlement of the age. I'm glad I finally know it.