The New England Society for Tea Fetishism

I use a yahoo internet radio called "launch." I get to customize a station with all the Radiohead, Coldplay, Bjork, Aimee Mann, and Jeff Buckley that I want and listen to it for free. I've been doing this since Ron worked in security, so going on three years now. I've finally fine-tuned my preferences to the point where they hardly play nu-metal or emo at all. A while ago they started offering a pay-by-the-month version, which meant, of course, that they had to make the free version crappier. Really, all they did was limit the number of songs you could skip in a month and then tell you that the pay version had a better sound quality and unlimited skipping. Oh, and no commercials. I once thought of getting the upgrade free for a week, but they want your credit card number for that, so if you forget to cancel your free trial they can start billing you. As of now there is no such pay system put on the music videos on the site, which I am listening to now. Of course, listening options are limited to songs with videos, which means that I just skipped Linkin' Park and Yellowcard and am now listening to Hoobastank. Oh, the humanity.
Anyway, I went to lunch and came back to find that my radio was not playing. Instead there was a window that said my "free trial" of Lauchcast Plus was over, and that as punishment, I could not listen to my customized station for the rest of the month and would be relegated to the free stations with low sound quality. (Ahh, finally, Jane's Addiction is playing!). I was not aware that I had a free trial of their pay station. So I thought, okay the month is over, umm, today, so I'll just listen to a genre station for the next hour until class. Cut to me clicking on the 90s alternative station. Would you like to play station? it asks. Yes, I would. So I click on the listen button and it takes me back to the window telling me that I have been voted off the island and must pay 7.50 a month to get back on. I did this about ten times with about five other genres. Apparently there are no free stations, just an endless loop, like a choose your own adventure where you keep getting sent back to the page where you die, no matter what choices you make. I'm not paying for an internet radio. Suck my balls, yahoo!

I knew that Sonia was going out because at around 10pm she was wearing heels and clacking all around the suite, throwing stuff in the garbage and going in and out of the bathroom. I had a long day yesterday, what with all the filing and walking back and forth to that loathsome copier, so I went to bed early, let's say 11:45 (when I shut my eyes I saw my hands flipping through freshman and transfer files). Okay, cut to about two hours later at 1:26. I woke up to Janet Jackson and wafts of some really strong perfume coming under my door. Cue the clacky footsteps and several metalic-sounding objects being jostled and dropped. I assume that she was smoking in the suite and spraying perfume to cover it up. Oh, and I had to pee. As usual. But Lord knows I didn't want to walk out into the suite, so I waited until it seemed like she was in her room and then went to the bathroom. Eventually, the music turned off and she went to bed.

And the copy machine is still being monopolized. Honestly people, I have a schedule here! Well, not really. This is the most work I've had all month, and it's still not that much.
I went to the Galley to get some awful coffee (I found out later) and a cereal bar, and lo and behold, there was James Marsters on the Sharon Osborne show singing with his band, in all his peroxided glory. I'm guessing it must have been taped before yesterday afternoon. He has a good voice. So I pretended that I was checking my e-mail and sat by a computer and watched the performance. It seems like he's trying to plaster himself all over the tv, or at least shitty daytime tv, in order to bolster his career, and I only have one thing to say about that. Me likey. Honestly, can there really be too much James Marsters on tv? Or anywhere else for that matter? I hope David Boreanaz and Alexis Denisof do the same thing. I want to see them every day, as many times as possible.

The copy machine has been in continuous use for the past five minutes. Someone's copying a novel, I think. So, I've been waiting for them to finish and now I have to pee. I know that when I leave my office, I will miss my window to copy because that is how the world works. My eyes are just about bugged out of my head, with all the tiny print on these kids' transcripts and such.
In other, better news, I'm getting out of here on May 16th. For those of you keeping track, that's like two weeks and change. Thank the lord almighty.

Oh well, this may interfere with my feed the kitty intentions, but James Marsters is shaving his head for an AIDS charity today on Ryan Seacrest's talk show. Yes, I am leaving work to watch it. I hope his scalp isn't too horribly burnt and cracked from seven years (!) of bleaching his hair. The people who made the ten largest donations get an autograph and a lock of his hair.

Okay, feed the kitty is producing no results, and it was kind of annoying to have all over my blog. Experiment concluded.

I got banana bread! Yay! Unfortunately, I think it might be beyond help. It has dried with age. It took a whole week to get here. That seems a little longer than usual. Did they send it pony express? Anyway, thank you for the pretty flowers. Spring is trying its hardest but we don't even have leaves on the trees yet. Sucky Long Island. And the card is pretty, too. I love you Amy. Oh, and my box number is 748, not 749, for future reference.
I went to a cookout/house party on Saturday and I got to flirt with boys for eight whole hours! I was kind of focused on this one boy, though, and I tried to be where he was most of the night without actually following him around, which was pretty easy since the whole shindig was restricted to the large kitchen/dining room/living room area, and the downstairs where the ping pong table is located. I think I was successful. It was all very chill. We ate, we talked, we played asshole, ping pong (a lot of ping pong, actually), a little bit of poker, and listened to copious amounts of Phish, Grateful Dead, Bob Dylan and Dave Matthews. Yes, they are those kinds of boys (except for George, who listens to Slayer and Anthrax). I must remember not to drink rum again. I had a little daquiri when I got there and it made my stomach hurt for like two hours. Rum is evil.

Someday I'll blog about me again and quit posting about stuff from other sites, but seriously, you've gotta read this. I followed a link from Neil Gaiman's blog and ended up at another author's blog (Charles Stross, a gifted SF writer) who posted this from something call Strategeypage. It is not a joke. And in case anyone doesn't know, I believe that ICBM stands for Inter-Continental Ballistic Missile

In order to comply with EPA (Environmental Protection Agency) regulations, and at a cost of about $5.2 million per ICBM, the rocket motors on 500 Minuteman III missiles will be replaced with new ones. These rockets will emit less toxic chemicals when used. ... Thus, if the Minuteman III ICBMs have to be used in some future nuclear war, their rocket motors will not pollute the atmosphere. EPA regulations do not apply in foreign countries, so no changes are being made to reduce the harmful environmental effects of the nuclear warheads.

Can anyone multiply 5.2 million x 500?

Reported on Demagogue:

Doctors or other health care providers could not be disciplined or sued if they refuse to treat gay patients under legislation passed Wednesday by the Michigan House. The bill allows health care workers to refuse service to anyone on moral, ethical or religious grounds.

The Republican dominated House passed the measure as dozens of Catholics looked on from the gallery. The Michigan Catholic Conference, which pushed for the bills, hosted a legislative day for Catholics on Wednesday at the state Capitol.

The bills now go the Senate, which also is controlled by Republicans.

From what I understand, the main reason for this bill is to allow Catholic doctors the right to refuse things like abortion or the morning after pill, and it doesn't apply to emergency room situations, but seriously, if this goes through, your doctor can say, "What, you're (Muslim, Jewish, pro-choice, gay, etc.)? I'm sorry but you're going to have to find another doctor." Michigan is mightily fucked up. Mightily.

Steven Spielberg is making a movie based on the hostage situation at the Munich Olympics thirty-two years ago. Talk about depressing.

The good friend of a good friend writes:

My company, the 372nd Military Police Company has been extended for possibly over 120 days past our current year deployment, suffice to say, we are all ready to come home. To give you our status, we are at 48% our usual number of soldiers, we have no officers, our mission from Bosnia doesn’t count towards our time. So while I was activated during 7 months of post 9/11, Military saying that doesn't count. What I'm asking of everyone is please, write anyone you can think of to push the issue of us coming home, congress, governors, senators, when we go to this new mission, I'm very afraid people will die, it's that dangerous. Thanks for your help everyone.

SGT Jeremy McGuire

372nd Military Police Company

Sounds kinda like a weird Irish Bond girl, huh? Anyway, I wonder what would happen to the banner ads if one wrote the same word or phrase over and over again in an entry, for ten or twenty lines, perhaps. Like, if I just decided to write "Draino," or "feed the kitty," or "booger" a hundred times in a row. What kind of products and/or services would those be linked to?

I just saw a quote from Chapelle's Show that I thought some of you may enjoy, mainly because I don't think any of you watch the show. It's from a skit involving a black, John Edward-type guy called "Negrodamus"

"Why is President Bush so sure there are weapons of mass destruction in Iraq?"
"Becasue he still has the receipt."

Genius my people, genius.

Call me crazy, but I'm not really that intimately acquainted with the topography of my own ass. It's not like I've spent an enormous amount of time getting all the details down (well, except for that "exploration" stage I went through when I was about two, but everyone goes through that, right guys? Guys?). Therefore, if there were a problem, or a change, I most likely wouldn't notice. Where is this going and should I shoo away the children, you ask? Don't worry. My lower back felt kind of tight the other day, so I decided that a quick adjustment on the floor would take care of my lumbar woes. When I sat down on the cold, hard, dirty linoleum in my room, my tush felt kinda sore. I seem to have a little knob on the end of my tail-bone--a somewhat moveable, sore bump. Now, I wonder if this is something to worry about, mainly because my dad had a cyst on his tail-bone probably when he was my age.
I don't know. I'll keep you posted.

To rg, the token male,
I have no idea how I get the gray background with my titles. It's just part of this stinky blog template. I could look at the html and try to figure it out for you. And the Krishna guy was not the typical bald saffron-gown wearing airport Hare Krishna (Hey, have you ever seen Airplane?) but I bet he was bald under his hat. He looked like a hiker, or someone backpacking across Europe. I think he might have had a North Face jacket on, but that could just be me adding things.
Yay for nanner bread! Dinner has not been good here lately for those of the vegetarian persuasion. Like Friday, the menu read "Stuffed Artichokes" supposedly stuffed with peppers, tomatoes, and a variety of spices, including mint. Those were all of the ingredients listed. I got to the front of the line and saw artichokes stuffed with white rice, topped with a reddish brown dust that I assumed was paprika. When I sat down, I found that it was actually half an artichoke with rice on top. All the nasty hairy and purple insides were still intact. Oh, and might I add that this was a ticket night. We got a ticket at the register and then gave it to the server in order to get our food, since these entrees are just so good you can't have people coming up for seconds and thirds because there just wouldn't be enough. Or so I'm guessing. Maybe they just like the power trip.

Office Space was just on Lifetime. Is that wrong?

Excuse me if this post becomes too Freudian. I say that because it involves bathroom habits and dreams, two things in which Freud seemed to be very interested, when he wasn't doing cocaine.
Those who have lived with me know that I have a bladder about half the size of the period at the end of this sentence. Therefore, I visit public restrooms very often. Over the years however, I have developed an intensely shy bladder. It's gotten so bad that most times, even if I'm about ready to burst, I can't go if someone else is in the bathroom. But it depends on the circumstances. If it's just one person in the bathroom, it's a no go. If it's more than one and someone is in a stall, I can usually go. If no one is in a stall, then it's debatable. If I'm already in a stall and one person comes in, it might happen, but if I come into the bathroom the exact same time as someone else, I'm probably going to have to wait until they leave.
So, if you didn't know it before, the above should be evidence enough that I have some kind of neurosis. It's especially hard at this school because the bathroom is made up of two stalls directly behind a sink. If someone is in the bathroom already, I just wait until they leave. I often close the door to the bathroom, just so I can pretend that I have a little privacy.
I was thinking about all this the other day and wondering what the hell my problem is exactly when I decided that it all comes back to the itsy-bitsy bladder. Said bladder causes me to have to go to the bathroom at least once a night. During the night, almost every night, the urge to go filters into my dreams and I usually spend a good portion of my dream life either searching for a bathroom or in one. But if I go in the dream, there is a good chance that my physical self will go as well. This happened one time, and one time only, when I was seven. I found the bathroom, successfully relieved myself, and awoke to the warm sensation of me wetting the bed. To safeguard against this, my subconscious throws me into strange situations while trying to go when in a dream. Often the solution is to put me in a situation where I have no privacy and people can see me going. Maybe the toilet is in the corner of a crowded room, or the walls of the stalls are only three feet high, etc. I think my brain tries to do anything it can to keep me from fulfilling my mission.
The conclusion about the shy bladder is that almost every night for, oh, let's say, the past fifteen years, my brain has sent the message, "People in the bathroom=No Go Zone," and so now even when I'm awake I'm still getting that message from my subconscious.
This long and personal and somewhat embarrassing post has brought to you by the very bored Amy--see comments on previous post.

Get this--I couldn't give blood because my iron was too low. The scale goes from something like 12.5 to 20. I was at 11.5. No wonder I've been feeling unaturally fatigued lately. Goddamn vegetarian selections. If they had peas on the salad bar here, I'd be fine. I guess I just have to start grazing on spinach every day. Oh, also, they changed the form you have to fill out so I answered a few questions the wrong way and ended up looking like an anemic spazz. Not that I really care.
So, my multi-vitamin says that it has 100% of the daily value of iron. What is up with that? I don't ingest a lot of caffeine on a daily basis, so how did that leach out of my system? 'Tis a mystery for the ages.

While I was waiting for the jitney at the bus stop on the side of the Boston Public Library (I really should go in sometime) I was approached by a young-ish man with an Eastern European accent and asked if I was traveling today. He seemed harmless enough and since there were people everywhere I decided it couldn't hurt to strike up a conversation. Turns out, he's a monk, a Hare Krishna type, and he gave me a book of the teachings of his . . . ummm . . . head monk guy? Shit, it's not swami, I don't think. Anyway, he was a really nice man and he gave me a card for something like the International Center for Krishna Consciousness near Boylston Street. They're having a vegetarian feast and chanting this week, so if anyone is in the area, which would be Russ, it might be a fun time. We talked about karma a bit and how being a vegetarian makes you feel better because you have less violence in your life that way. I tend to go more for the whole, I'm putting less chemicals, assembly line garbage, and fatty proteins in my body explanation for why I feel better, but it does make sense.
Speaking of karma, I'm giving blood in about half an hour. Here's to hoping they go three for three on getting a vein without any problems.

1: Grab a book nearest to you, turn to page 18, find line 4, write down what it says:
"We loved each other with a premature love, marked by a fierce-" from, Lolita

2: Stretch your left arm out as far as you can. What do you touch first?:
The cheap-ass desk in my office.

3: What is the last thing you watched on TV?:
Live with Regis and Kelly, only it was Kelly and Jeff Probst. I guess Regis is on vacation. They were talking about Britney Spears.

4: WITHOUT LOOKING, guess what the time is:
9:47 Am

5: Now look at the clock, what is the actual time?: 9:54 am. Not bad

6: With the exception of the computer, what can you hear?: Craig singing and whistling. Ugh.

7: When did you last step outside? what were you doing?:
This morning, coming to work. It is overcast and looking like rain. Again.

8: Before you came to this website, what did you look at?: Donate your clicks, my blog, Kirsten's blog.

9: What are you wearing?: Jeans, sneakers, new gray tank-top from Old Navy, old gray zip-up shirt from Lerner. And contacts--hoooray!

10: Did you dream last night?:
I had a dream that I was at home, but I realized that it was a dream because I knew it was Tuesday and that I should have already left for school. So I tried to wake myself up and instead woke up in Hood's library. I was lying on the floor in a sleeping bag, and people were walking through like taking naps in the library with full-on sleep wear was completely normal.

11: George Bush: a power-crazy nut case, or...
Total tool

12: Imagine your first child is a girl, what do you call her?:
Hmmm...I like Grace, or maybe Carol, after my mom.

13: Imagine your first child is a boy, what do you call him?:
Something solid. Jedediah.

14: Would you ever consider living abroad?:
Possibly, if I knew people where I was going. Like Amy, I'd pretty much go anywhere they speak a form of English, or perhaps very slow French.

Home is great. The trip was uneventful, although, once again, I did have trouble on the subway. But it was't my fault. I was on the green line thinking, "Wow, for the first time, I got on the subway without any problems." Cue the loudspeaker "This train has been rerouted. Everyone please exit the train. The track to your right will have continued service to Lechemere." This was at Park Street, one stop before Government Center, where I needed to go, and a good thing too, because Government Center was the last stop for the next train I got on.
The other day I was thinking about Mother's Day and went to specialteas.com to find a nice gift basket for my mum because she's been talking about wanting to try loose tea. Well, she bought some the other day and we had a pot this morning. It's really good. So now that I know she'll like it, I feel a bit better about getting her the variety pack.
Home is good.

The Dean of my college is gay and he just had a commitment ceremony with his partner of 35 years. No wonder he's the advisor for GSA.

Cool as a Moose is looking for applicants. I could be a desk clerk or a chambermaid in the Best Western in Salsbury Cove--limited housing available. There's an office assistant position for the Acadia Summer Arts Program that has possible housing and sounds more my speed, but the position is open now. I don't think they want to wait for me until June. I guess I'll start with Acadia Corp. and go from there.

Thank the lord I have a job where I can waltz in any time I want (within reason, of course). After last night's very entertaining but ultimately useless lecture (I have no intention of becoming a playwrite), I went to the Tidewater with a bunch of people from the program. It was much more lively than last time so I ended up staying until around half-past midnight. Lots of loud music, good conversation, and the boy that Tracy has a crush on bought her a drink (hooray!). I was chatted up by an undergrad named John who's in the marine science program here. I wish he came and talked to me earlier in the night because by the time he offered to buy me a drink I had already paid six bucks for a mixed drink and was at my intake limit for the evening. Six frickin' dollars for vanilla vodka and coke. I think I'll just stick to my relatively cheaper Cape Codder and be done with it. But John works at the Tidewater on Tuesdays and Thursdays and some other days, so if I go then, I think I can get my drink on for free. Did I just say "get my drink on?" Sorry. So, I'm slightly hung over today, nothing 32 ounces of water won't take care of, but it does help that I can come to work an hour later than usual and no one says boo.
Tonight I'm going to the New Moon Cafe for an MFA reading. I have an essay that I'm working on that I might bring in. I will not, however, be drinking, since my wallet and my liver should have a break, and also the thought of being hung over on a bus tomorrow is just about the worst thing I can imagine right now.

I've added a link to Neil Gaiman's journal, because Good Omens is hilarious, and American Gods rocks hardcore. Check out the link to the photo-journal of a woman who motorcycles through an area around Chernobyl called "Ghost Town." Very creepy.

I'm going home because 1.) el dorko supremo misses her mom, and 2.) I really, really want to go to the optometrist so I can get contacts. I have been sans contacts since the end of December and my glasses are bugging the hell out of me. Here's to hoping that Dr. Stasio has my brand in stock. I have Good Friday and the Monday after off from class so I figured I'd hop on the jitney and come home for the weekend.

So, does anyone else use Always as their prefered brand of feminine accoutrement? I ask because I bought a package at CVS the other day and was surprised to find that they now come with a minty core of confidence. Honestly, there's this green stripe running up and down the middle. Very odd. I'm not sure if it's just decoration or if it actually has a purpose. And they changed their labeling, too. They seem to change it every year-and-a-half. This is very annoying, especially when my mom grabs a package for me. I say stuff like "I need the kind with the spade on the front" and she says, "They don't have the card suits on the front anymore so I got you this," and it ends up being the super-duper long kind that I hate because they feel like a diaper. Damn you, Always, damn you!

So, yay for home! Hey Tracy, maybe I'll even make it home in time to do the Friday night visit at your house.

I'm going home this weekend!!

It's accepted students day here at Southampton College on this overcast and drizzly day. It makes me think about my accepted students day at Hood. What an awful day that was. I had pneumonia and the plane ride got me so freaked out I was sick to my stomach the entire day. Then at Dulles my mom got a monster headache, and when we finally touched down at Logan at around 10pm we forgot which garage we parked in. Thank god it was a gorgeous day in Frederick and my Memorial tour guides were super nice (one of them was Jill) or else I might have said screw it all and gone to Smith.
Today at brunch, Kasey announced that she's thinking of giving up Catholicism (me being the jackass that I am asked "For Lent?") and her conservative Catholic friend Tanya wasn't very helpful about it. Kasey's pissed because the church is refusing to give Kerry communion because he isn't voting on things in a way that promotes Catholic doctrine--like abortion. Tanya seems to have a problem separating church and state. Kasey's sick of the dogma, I think, and is considering moving to an earth-based religion (she's also very concerned about the environment, so it makes sense). I just wonder if it's the actual religion or just the jerks who run it that make her want to leave. If that's the case, I don't know if she should be so quick to abandon it. So, in short, lots of tense religious debate at brunch today which I didn't take part in because I don't know these people well enough to piss them off with my liberal Protestant views. Maybe next year.

I went out last night. Yay!! Sally Jane organized an outing to George Martin's, a restaurant with entrees that average around $27. There's some kind of restaurant week going on so all of these expensive places have fixed menus where you can get an appetizer, an entree, and a dessert for 19.95. I had a lovely chopped salad, fish with some kind of tangy sauce and rice pilaf, and strawberry gelatto. It was all quite tasty. After we went to the East Quogue house (where about five of the guys in the program live--it was an MFA dinner) and played ping-pong until about midnight. Next up--MFA brunch.

So yesterday I was sitting in my office, probably doing nothing constructive, when Craig (Mr. Hemmingway 2004, she parenthetically said sarcastically) stopped in the doorway and asked if I was the one who wrote the "Ode to David Boreanaz." He's in my Finding Your Voice class. I said, "Yes, but it was actually a prayer to keep the show on the air. I'm more a fan of the show than David Boreanaz specifically." So he said that he was in a bar in L.A. three years ago when his friend pointed and said, isn't that the guy from Angel? Craig said that Mr. B. was there with Ian Ziering (who prounces his name Eye-an--what the fuck is that?) and, get this, not only was he short and balding, he was also "macking on some nasty groupies." Through the whole conversation I was like, "Oh really, Ian Ziering, yes, L.A., mmhmmm, yes, a lot of guys in Hollywood are on the short side, (granted, Craig is like 6'5", so almost everyone is short to him) while on the inside I was thinking, What a dickhead! If he actually thought that I really liked David Boreanaz, why would he feel the need to tell me this story just out of the blue like that, not even in the context of a conversation? It would be like me dropping a comment on Mare's blog that went something like, "By the way, I saw Tony Lucca kicking squirrels in the park the other day." I mean, unless he was eating babies or something else equally depraved, I don't see why I need to know about it, especially the part about being short and bald.
It's just that, "Guess what? That guy you think is so great is actually a loser and I'm the one who told you so," smugness that burns my bottom. I think Craig gets a kick out of bursting other people's bubbles since he doesn't have one of his own. Also, I don't care what David Boreanaz does in his spare time (it's also possible that Craig and his friend were mistaken--Craig's a heavy drinker). Remember my whole "I'm in love with Fox Mulder, not Davd Duchovny" thing? Well same thing applies to David B. and Angel, except for the "in love with" part. Maybe if we were talking about Spike.