2008 in Review

In the last year, things have changed quite a bit. The biggest change, for all of us, of course, is our selection of Barack Obama to be the next President of the United States. Our country is in one of the lowest of the lows, and this is huge. It seems like this is a moment in history our kids will be asking us about, and we'll remember.

For me, personally, things have changed quite a bit. The year I had my first skinny dip. My first apartment, all to myself. My first case of Shingles. SO many new friends. The top three events to define 2008 would have to be Paddling for My Soul (Moose River canoe trip.) The Break Up. And I know it sounds ridiculous, but singing I Would Do Anything for Love with Tess at karaoke. I think I'm that much closer to figuring out who I am and what I want- I almost feel like a different person. A new woman. I've gone from dating a journalist to Journalistic dating. And rekindling. Spring break Indiana wasn't bad, either.

Here are a few other standout 2008 things:

My cat Baby!

ChaCha!

Telethon at WABI (I do what I do for YOU!)

Best Birthday ever! (Thanks, ladies!)

The Theme Party that was not to Be.

Homecoming at Space.

DZUSA and Feel It Robot.

Best burger ever at Kelly's birthday party- it was made of Bison!

My Beyonce Pandora station.

"Hey, You bitches want some olives?"

The Mujoy Hill Exxodus (and the bittersweetness of it all.)

Gossip Girl.

The iPhone, obviously.

Booze or Bacon?

darcy: if you had to give up drinking or meat what would you choose?
me: whoa. that's really hard, considering i've done both.
darcy: so?
me: well. what would you give up?
both are really important parts of my life...
on one hand, i can't imagine not coming home and grabbing a beer after a really hard day at work.
or whatever.

darcy: right
me: but on the other, i don't know if i could go the rest of my life dealing with the smell of cooked bacon.
it would be more economical if i chose to give up drinking, but it makes me sound like a lush if i give up meat.

darcy: yeah i don't know what i'd choose either
me: i guess i'd have to choose meat and be that jerk that brings the boca burger to the bbq.

Prop 8- The Musical

"Prop 8 - The Musical" starring Jack Black, John C. Reilly, and many more... by Jack Black

Just a Quickie

I know I've been a deadbeat blogger. Here are some things.

• I love Beyonce's new single.
• My apartment might not be too small for parties.
• Over Thanksgiving I read five books in one day (to a child.)
• This month is my three year Portland anniversary. Hard to believe.
• At karaoke at the gay bar a drag queen compared me to Thora Birch in Ghost World, and after my performance told me I'd won a gold medal in the Hipster Olympics.
• I broke my iPhone and was able to get it replaced for free. My guy was so cute I couldn't help but flirt. Never underestimate the power of being cute.
• OMFG Gossip Girl!
• The Darjeeling Limited is on repeat at my house.
• This month I'm making my NPR debut.
• Making new friends is incredible.
• I'm finally interested in new music again.
• I subscribe to the Woody Allen theory of first kisses.

Hope all is well.

Warm Up to Winter

I just ordered this coat online. I couldn't help myself! I'll let you know how it turns out.

The New Apartment! Revealed!

Happy Halloween!

On my way home, my last walk home to the Hill, I saw two Uma Thurman character costumes. Poison Ivy and that chick from Pulp Fiction, with the syringe sticking out. Ha! Ivy and syringe! Then someone dressed as the teen wolf waved at me from across the street, as if we were friends. I couldn't tell who it was because they were wearing a mask.

I decided to stay in, battle a cold, and prepare for the big Move. At the video rental place, I felt as though I should've gotten Psycho, or something. But then remembered the last time I attempted to watch a scary movie on Halloween. It was the reissue of the Exorcist in the theater, and I'd never seen it before. I drove about 90 miles an hour home, went to bed with the light on, but was completely convinced that my bed was shaking. I slept maybe two hours that night, and for the next two months I'd be falling asleep then bolted awake by the moving bed. There were no earthquakes in Lewiston, so it had to have been an evil demon trying to possess me.

I left the store with When Harry Met Sally. Very Safe.

My New Digs

Pringles Come in a Can

It just occured to me that Pringles taste a lot like cold Burger King french fries, just crunchier.

That's right. I'm eating Pringles. I made sure to NOT accidentally get the fat-free kind made with Olestra, which causes anal leakage. It didn't actually happen, even though there is a WARNING LABEL, but it was a very stressful 24 hours of my life.

Chocolate Dipping

This afternoon I had a bit of a renactment of this episode of I Love Lucy when I was posting about 900 peices of mail. I thought I'd post it... the humor really stands the test of time, I think.

Stars "Bitches in Tokyo"

Lewiston High School, Class of '02

The girls and I decided to eat massive Rosie's cheeseburgers this weekend before going out to karaoke. I'm sitting there, burger juice dripping down my arm, and I see a man who I'd met a few weeks before. Since he was new in town, I prayed there was no cheeseburger on my face, turned around and said hello to the Carhart overall-wearing man on my left, Matt. We exchanged pleasantries, but it was brief, since it's not exactly polite to carry on a conversation while holding a giant cheeseburger.


A few minutes goes by, and a man comes over to our table, and crouches next to me and introduces himself.

"Hey, so how do you know Matt?"

"Matt??" I did not see the people Matt with the Carharts came in with.

"You know, my friend Matt," he gestures.

"Ohhh. That Matt." I explain that he's a friend of a friend, who I'd met only once before, meanwhile I'm thinking, what the hell is this guy doing over here, where could this possibly be going. You see, this man, who for the purpose of this story shall remain nameless, taught at my high school. It escapes me what exactly he taught, Jobs for Maine Graduates or something along those lines in the vocational wing. His classroom might have even been attached to the school store. Anyhow, I knew of this man for two reasons- the first was that my locker was right outside his class, and he was a young, handsome new teacher; the second was that he had to leave his job because he slept with student. That's right. He's Mrs. Robinson. From what I understand, the chick was 18, not that it makes it okay.

So he's going on and on. "You look so familiar, where have I seen you before, do you work downtown, etc." I'm thinking, "Holy effing shit I can't believe this is happening." Two of the three other people at my table had no idea what was going on, the other watched in horror.

It was at this time that I decided to go big or go home. I looked him directly in the face and said, "I went to Lewiston High School." He shut right up. 'Caught with his pants down' as my mother would say. It looked like I had sucker punched him in the stomach, and I wish I was quicker at the draw with the camera on the iPhone. He proceeds to make some even more awkward conversation about the high school, finally asking me if I was proud of my Lewiston heritage. I blinked twice for emphasis (did he really just ask me that?) I said I didn't know how to answer his question, because really, nine o'clock at Rosie's was neither the time nor the place for me to explain my complex feelings of being born and raised in Lewiston, let alone in front of two Bates graduates (humble, but proud and very defensive.) Finally acknowledging his defeat, he stood up and left with a meek, "Go Blue Devils."

The Ancient Japanese Art of Karaoke

For the past few Saturday nights in a row, a few friends of mine and I have been going out to karaoke night at a former gay bar called the Flask Lounge. And it's amazing. I don't understand the social stigma that comes with karaoke- every time I've been to this particular night it turns into one big giant dance party. Journey, "Don't Stop Believing;" Mama's and the Papas "California Dreaming;" any number of Bruce Springsteen songs; Fleetwood Mac; someone always does You're the One I Love from the Grease soundtrack... There are a few 'regulars' who are truly karaoke masters, who shine in the spotlight, tear it up, if you will. Other times the song isn't quite the right choice or the stage presence isn't there, but that's when you talk about the next song you're doing, get a drink, use the bathroom. In fact, I'd go so far as to say karaoke has been my sex substitute as of late- singing, dancing, my heart rate goes up, I start sweating... And no babies!

I've only ever sang once at karaoke, and it was... painful for everyone involved. My own boyfriend didn't even suck up and tell me that I did okay. It was Wham's Wake Me Up Before You Go Go, which sounded good in theory, but in actuality was really difficult. In my mind, the key is to pick a song that you already know some of the words to. I've been picking out the perfect song. It has to be something that everyone knows, gets excited about, and isn't too vocally challenging, because I'm rather tone-deaf. I'm thinking it's going to be a Violent Femmes song, but my ears have been open. Once, my friend Hillary tried to convince me that I should be in an all-girl band with her and Mandy- I was like but Hilla, I don't PLAY anything. She said it's okay, you can sing, you have the look! I'll try to remember that next weekend.

Oh, and there's this guy, who gets in on all the action with his inflateable guitar. He gives the term 'air guitar' a whole new meaning...

Tina Fey as Sarah Palin, Of Course.

Homecoming- A Night to Remember

When I found out that Space was throwing an all out Homecoming Dance, I got really, really excited. The only thing I could do to not jump out of my skin with excitement was listen to Meatloaf's 'I Would Do Anything For Love' on repeat, for an hour. I picked out my date, started shopping for a dress, and decided that this would be the end all be all of dances- to make up for all those dances gone wrong in high school. Like the time Annie ran over Renee's foot with the car. Or when I asked this college guy, and he still came, even though he was totally into someone else and I was resentful all night. OR when I went to Mandy's prom and everyone at her school thought I was her lesbian lover.

But a week before the dance, the 'date' I had picked out and just wanted to be friends, in perfect unpredictable fashion. So Mandy and I had a re-do of her prom in '03. On the big night, I went over to her place to get ready- pick out shoes, fashion elaborate updos, and inexpertly apply mascara. Two Sex and the City episodes later, we headed out in our three inch heels, ready to dance the night away.

And basicly, that's what we did! I danced, danced, danced. All the girls looked really pretty, and all the boys looked really handsome. I mean, we're not the kinds of people who exactly put on 'going out' clothes, you know? When we arrived the band formerly known as Cult Maze was getting ready to go on, and I was unbelievably happy- they were one of my favorite local bands until they broke up. They covered Feel Like Makin' Love, My Boyfriend's Back, and much to my utter delight MEATLOAF!! It was prefect. I could not stop smiling. The last time I'd felt that happy had to have been the This American Life live show, when Mates of State played. From then on the night was pretty dream-like, including photos, and even an onstage dance party started by yours truly and my Mandy. Some girl told us we were the 'hottest bitches in Portland.' I danced myself nauseous in three inch heels.

At some point, I happened to tell Mandy that I thought a boy was cute, she proceeded to tell his brother, and I spent the rest of the night coyly making eye contact from across the room. But in true high school fashion, I was too shy to actually let him come over and risk letting something happen (not even after a little liquid courage in the form of bottled PBR.)

We ended the night taking the Limo Taxi home to the Hill. I only wish I would have seen the faces of everyone milling about when the limo pulled up and we got in. There was no Red Hot 95.9, but he only charged us five bucks, which would've been less than an actual cab!

I'll take a side of truth with that coffee

Me: Good Morning

Brian: Good Morning, how's it going?

Me: S'ok. Tired, though. I stayed up late watching Gossip Girl. That show is amazing, just perfect. You just... Turn your brain off. I love it.

Brian: Yeah, I bet you were watching Sex and the City, too.

Me (not making eye contact): Yeah...

Brian: I can smell it a mile away! And then you wonder why you have problems with dudes in your life!

Me: ...(silence.)

woody Allen: Still Got It.

I've been satisfying a lot of guilty pleasures as of late- like listening to a crapload of Beyonce, watching movies like Superbad and Pineapple Express, and putting Laguna Beach and Gossip Girl at the top of my Queue. Is it because it's been summer and this is what you're supposed to do? Like, beach all day, then Gossip Girl then margaritas on the patio? Maybe. But it's also possible that I'm trying to make up for lost pop-culture time. It's possible I crossed the line, though, when on a recent trip to Marden's, I purchased a Gossip Girls novel for three dollars.

It's now the beginning of fall (yes, I said it.) I'm going to try and stimulate myself creatively. I'm most likely moving next month, so maybe this is a good time for me to do some more productive things with my time. Actually use those brain cells! I'm excited to say that I just saw Vicky Christina Barcelona, and not only was it amazing, but it reminded me that there needs to be more zing in my life.

Maybe I'll start that novel, finally. It's time to decide how I'll keeep myself occupied this winter, and, you know, figure out what I'm doing with my life.

Breaking News

Another year, another Teleton, another brilliant Photoshop job.

Me and the iPhone Don't Care What You Think

have I mentioned I'm now the proud owner of the new iPhone? It's 6 a.m., I'm at Telethon, waiting for the percolator to warm up, the volunteers to show, the phones to ring, and all I can think to do is blog about the iPhone and how cool it is.

So far, the best use of the iPhone was this past weekend. In the car we hooked it up to the car stereo. I then YouTubed the Lazy Sunday SNL digital short and we sang along on our way to Old Orchard Beach. I can also shop online while riding the bus. Last night I used the camera to take ridiculous pictures of my coworkerspretending to be anchors on WABI TV-5, then upload and tag them on Facebook. The iPhone is incredibly self-aware; it can capitalize it's own name, and knows what kind of accent to use on 'touché.' Though I try to not let this gadget get in the way of my normal social interactions, I have on several occasions walked by my destination because my head was buried in the iPhone.

If Craig were to read this, he'd tell me I sound like I'm working for Apple. In this case, I'd have to agree. I just found out I can stream mp3s. Seriously.

Can you hear me now?

Welcome to the world of mobile blogging! I just have to comment- sometimes there are people on my bus at 8am who stay on the phone for more than, say, 5 minutes. I can't help but wonder who on earth they're possibly having a conversation with so darn early. I mean, seriously. Most of my fellow commuters probably aren't working the kind of lucrative job that requires them to be available by phone 24/7.

I'm listening to Funeral by Arcade Fire, and it's still as good as the first time. It's more intense than doing it in a tent! (Get it?)

More to come on the most epic canoe trip of all time.

Last night at Greendrinks, a free happy hour for people who are interested in living green, everyone was asked to disclose their green vice. Meaning, what's the most wasteful thing you do, but really can't help doing? In my personal life, I commute green and have probably the lowest carbon footprint of anyone I know. We recycle everything we can at home, and I use a travelmug that has Cruella DeVille on it. I might not Buy Local or organically all the time, but I feel that's more of an income issue than a mindset.

Anyway, when e began disclosing our dirty little ungreen secrets the were pretty similar- I love using paper towels. I get a lot of takeout. I take long showers. And I realized how much more embarrassing mine was going to be, but I couldn't think of anything else. If I'm in the bathroom, and there is no lock on the door, I run the water the whole time. It's totally neurotic and stupid, if someone is going to try and come in without knocking, they're probably not listening for running water.

Bum Fights

Some guy beat up a drunk bum today because the drunk bum was yelling at me. I was on the corner, standing with this guy, and I'm like, 'Yo, that dude is yelling at me." Thinking he'd just tell me it was okay. But he yelled at the guy, then decked him in the face, he went down, and got kicked in the face.

It was almost as disturbing at the colostomy bag. But I guess chivalry isn't dead?

Washington, Washington

I know most of you, my loyal readers, will have watched this George Washington animation, but it's so funny, and Darcy has been using lyrics in her Gmail chat away message for DAYS. I had to watch it again.

Today on Funny or Die .com

See more Paris Hilton videos at Funny or Die

Indecent Exposure

Last Saturday about twenty or so of us Portlanders migrated north to an island in Harpswell called Bailey Island. Darcy was born and raised there, and her parents were gracious enough to let us invade their house, drink beer and eat lobster. It was great to get out of town for a day, and on the overcast but scenic drive over, Darcy explains that she would like to beat her skinny dipping record- most times skinny dipped in one summer. I had never taken that plunge, partially because I'd never had the chance, partially because I'm modest.

Well, a little liquid courage goes a long way. We'd been drinking, eating, playing croquet, earning weird nicknames from Darcy's nephew (you can call me, Slippery Pete.) Although it was unclear whose idea it was to head over to Land's End, which is iterally the beach at the end of the main road on the island, I took the lead once we got there. I'd say it was somewhere around 70 degrees that night, and normally, in daylight, I really only like to swim when it's almost eighty. Hot. But I took off my Chucks, my socks, my jeans, my shirt and finally my underwear until I was down to my birthday suit and ran into the water. Five of the twenty people I was with also went in, while everyone else, including one of my old boyfriends, stood on the beach with their beers and watched us get nekkid. The water was cold, but like a good Mainer should, I sucked it up until my body adjusted and it was fine.

It would've been the perfect first skinny dipping experience, with friends, under the moonlight... if the police hadn't shown up with their industrial strength FLASH LIGHTS, pointed them on us AND LINGERED.

Here is a pitcture I found on Google Maps of Land's End:

The Dean Machine

*Names have been changed so as not to embarrass anyone*


This is an email that I recieved about a month ago from a friend of mine, who we'll call "Roberta":

We are anxiously waiting for when Howard Dean shows up - it will be any minute - the other Maine Democrats are milling around our conference room like they own the place - and we're just pretending to work as though this is something that happens all the time. If I'm introduced am I supposed to say "lovely to meet you governor"? I'm more flustered about this than any first date i've ever been on. (also Amanda, just between you and me - I AM NOT WEARING ANY UNDERWEAR UNDER THIS DRESS - because while walking to work today they kept falling off - I'm deadly serious)

I then had an online chat with "Roberta" and "Josephine" about it:

Josephine: hahaha
me: i just laughed out loud at your email and had to tell my coworker because she was like, what's so funny?
Josephine: you're going to meet Dean without underwear
Roberta: it's all around very funny in here right now
neither myself or my supervisor can keep it together
Roberta: i can't look at her without cracking up
me: why is howard dean coming?
is he going to do that yell thing?
Roberta: howard dean is speaking in that performance space at like 4 and they are having their little pre-party in our conference room
Josephine: Let me point out again that you are about to meet Dean without underwear on
I hope you don't slip up and talk about it because you're really nervous.
Josephine: like, 'uh, it's nice to meet you governor underwear'
Josephine: 'uh, i mean, no underwear'
Roberta: STOP
I SERIOUSLY CAN'T KEEP IT TOGETHER
Josephine: 'uh, i mean, no just kidding I am wearing underwear i promise.'
me: okay. I checked. he's not the governor anymore
me: but he's the chair of the party, and also a dr.
Roberta: ok good, so - "hello chair man?:
Roberta: so is he dr. former governor?
Roberta: "head chair man?"
"dr head chair man"
Josephine: "hello Mr. Underpants' should be fine
Roberta: ok thanks for clarifying
Josephine: or Dr. Underpants if you prefer that
Roberta: i like that the most
me: okay. my coworker thinks it'd be pretty funny if you addressed him dr. governor chairman
i just laughed so hard i cried.
this is the second day in a row... my boss made me laugh so hard i cried yesterday too

Colostomy Bag, Anyone?

We all know I take the bus. It's my earth-friendly public-transportation cost-effective ride to and from work. There are stories, oh so many stories about the bus people. People saying things, doing things, which I suspect will eventually lead me to the end of my proverbial rope. People talking about their ex-boyfriends sex fetishes (right next to me), people who wear hand-knit tank tops under un-buttoned button-down shirts, and people who check their blood sugar. I've learned the best way to deal with this is to wear headphones and sunglasses at all times. But, it's just not always avoidable.

I was walking toward my bus stop when a man approaches me and says, "Excuse me, can I ask you a question?" I'm thinking YOU JUST DID, but I look at him and keep walking, indicating, yes, you can ask me a question, but make it fast because I'm not stopping. I expect he's going to ask me for a dollar, or where the bus is, or whatever.

He starts, "Hi, I'm Roland." I stare blankly. "Do you know anything about prescription medication?" I stare more. "See, I'm from Arizona, and I was stabbed seven times last week." WHAT?! So I reply, "Listen, if you're in pain, you need to go to the emergency room." "No, I've been there ya see? Do you know what a colostomy bag is?"

This is where I made my mistake. I was nearly one hundred percent sure I knew what it was, but decided maybe if I played dumb he'd go away. Instead he lifted his shirt to show me stab wound bandages and a fucking colostomy bag. I cringed, yelled through my hands covering my face while looking away, "If you need medication there's a pharmacy right there. Ask them." And I ran away while he apologized profusely to the back of my head for scaring me.

Totally Stupid: I love AWK

For this blog I tried to find a postable video for Andrew W.K.'s Totally Stupid, but I couldn't find the one. It's awesome. The video contains a lot of really funny clips from his short lived show on MTV, and I always laugh out loud, even if I'm by myself. For about two months now, nearly every day on the way to work I've been listening to an AWK mix, trying to stay positive and gear up for the long work day.

You might be thinking, "Amanda, really? Don't you listen to Belle and Sebastian and only Belle and Sebastian?" (Or whatever sissy indie band you'd like to name that I do actually like.) Really. Andrew W.K. Ever catch him on Conan? They're like, friends. And once, AWK got Conan to do "moves." Like air punching and shit. Oh yeah, seriously. Anyway, this whole AWK thing happened when I found out that he was starting to give motivational talks. Josh ended up interviewing him and doing a whole story for the radio. My idea, technically. Check out his website, http://www.andrewwk.com/, and prepare to be wowed. Oh, and I also have a Pandora station seeded from AWK and a few others. It's called Rock Your Socks Off.

Here's an old picture from when I had a facial piercing and listened some tougher music. When I went to find this in my comments section on MySpace, there were SO many people that I don't recognize. It's been four years, me and my space.

I Heart ChaCha!

Has anyone else heard of ChaCha? Because it's this amazing question answering service. For free, you text a question to ChaCha (242-242) and within about a minute, you get an answer. I'm serious. It's not only incredibly useful, but really fun.

Here are some of the questions I've had answered so far:

Q: How do you say, "Please use other door" in French?
A: Veuillez employer l'autre porte.

Q: Should Amanda get a dog?
A: Only if Amanda promises to feed it, take care of it and love it every single day.

Q: What ingredient do I need to make crepes?
A: 1 cup/125g all-purpose flour, pinch of salt, 3 eggs, 1 cup/250 ml milk (more if needed), 2 tbsp/30 mg melted butter.

Q: Should Katie have the grilled chicken sandwich or the cheeseburger for lunch?
A: I guess whatever she feels like! I would have a cheeseburger! ChaCha!

Q: What does Probate mean?
A: Probate is the court-supervised legal process of providing a will, appointing an executor and settling an estate.

Bastille Day BBQ!

Heather and I threw our first party in honor of Bastille Day, and much to our surprise, it was a success! Despite being a Monday, and all the way on the Hill, at least twenty people showed up! We drew moustaches on faces (with Heather's expensive eyeliner.. oops!), served brie, French 75s (then switched to High Life, the champagne of beers!), listened to French pop, played bocce, and said "Merci" instead of "Thank You." No French kissing or spin le bottle, which I'm thankful for. The night ended at a reasonable hour with night swimming at the East End Beach. Perhaps next year we'll get someone to smuggle in some illegal fireworks.

Where's the Beef?

Yesterday, my bus honestly mooed like a cow. It was actually more like close cow-shaped cream dispensers, and it happened every few minutes. So weird.

More Office Humor

The First Time I've Ever Felt Bad for Knowing Trivia

At Trivia on Wednesday, the first question of round five was, "Please name the more common name of Herpes Zoster." We'd been significantly behind the whole game. My teammates exchanged blank looks, and I put my head down. "I know it," I said, then wrote "Shingles," and stared at my lap. Heather and Laura then gave me the most sympathetic faces. I'd gotten it a few months before, due to stress. Shingles, Herpes Zoster, adult chickenpox... All I could think when the doctor told me was, "Isn't this an old people disease?" Apparently, you can only get it if you've had chickenpox as a child. The virus stays dormant in your body your entire life.

It wasn't as bad as the time I saw Michael Showalter doing stand-up and he started going on about all these health problems and... nevermind.

The Key to Getting In

My friend Laura is staying with me for the next few weeks, while she teaches at a summer camp here in Portland. Since I'm not the most organized person, I did not think to get a set of keys to my apartment before she moved in, so loaned her mine, assuming that we'd be able to work it out for a few days until we got the keys copied. I was on a coffee date Monday, and Laura called me ten minutes before the coffee shop closed to tell me she'd left to run an errand. So, instead of waiting around on my porch for half an hour until she got home, I went and got a beer.

Half an hour later, she called me because she couldn't get the door open. (I had at least half a beer in front of me.) Please keep in mind, no one has ever not been able to open this door. She had to come pick me up at the bar, unlock the door for her, then bring me back. Since she didn't know how to get there, I gave her directions. She did not see the sign, drove by it, so I chased her car for three blocks. It didn't help her case that she was holding the key with two hands, two fingers pinching the top and two fingers pinching the bottom.

Apologies for the recent lack of posting, I've been preoccupied with some things. My coworker said that I should write about it, that it'd be very Carrie Bradshaw of me.

The Theme Party that was Not To Be

Has anyone else ever had one of those naked dreams? The dream where you're naked in a crowded corridor of your high school and you feel embarrassed, panicked, and confused? Well, the closest real life equivalent to this nightmare happened to me on Friday night, when I told my friends to come to a theme party, which turned out to not be a theme party at all.

When my friend Tess emailed me this invite, I figured, awesome! Tess is throwing an Office theme party! I can't wait to dress up!

But when we got there, my friends and I completely decked out as Pam, including hairdo; Angela, including turtleneck, framed cat picture; the Purse lady, including multiple purses for sale; and Roy, in his warehouse uniform, including Dunder Mifflin patch and Roy name tag; we were the only ones dressed up. What Tess MEANT was to have an awkward dinner party, LIKE the one in the office. Darcy laughed so hard she cried, but at the time I was pretty sure that she was just crying. I couldn't believe it! It was all my fault! I asked all of my friends to dress up and come to this party with me, where they didn't really know anyone. They could have totally mutinied. But luckily, they can all take a joke, and for that, I'm glad. It's also pretty lucky that I didn't accidentally invite them to a KISS party, or a Pimps and Whores party. In my defense, she did tell me to find a Dwight and bring him.

Slightly Windswept

I was walking to work this morning, and there was a slight breeze. I happened to catch my reflection in a window walking by... and that breeze made my hair look so much better than normal! So I was thinking how awesome it would be if I could have a slight breeze blowing through my hair all day, when I remembered that recent episode of 30Rock when Tina Fey's ex boyfriend came by and he met her in the studio- and she had a slight breeze blowing through her hair. I love that show.

The Office

Looks like I'm going to a party themed "The Office" this weekend. As in, the hit NBC show. I'm totally going as Pam, and I think I can do a wicked Pam hairdo, like this:

I think I'll bring Post-Its and a pencil. Here is a link to Jenna Fischer appearing on FreshAir, and she's really funny.

As I believe I've mentioned, I also work in an office. Mine, in particular, has a bunch of women, and as an office, we spend a lot of time together. Here is a little anecdote...

Last summer, my boss had plans of some sort, it was school vacation or something. She comes over to where the other assistant and I sit and starts complaning- going on and on about Aunt Flo. It's such a horrible time for her to be visiting, and she never wants to see her but she has to because she's Aunt Flo. That their plans to go to the beach and they were going to have to be cut short, or something. And the whole time I'm picturing an actual Aunt Flo, with that blue-ish old lady hair, a cane, rhinestone sunglasses and maybe a red tracksuit (or something.) I'm nodding in agreement and thinking, "It's really too bad that she can't just tell her aunt that now isn't a good time to be visiting, because it sounds like she's all alone in her life, and that's what family is for." Really, this is what I'm thinking, and all of a sudden it dawns on me and I say out loud, "Wait, you don't actually have an Aunt Flo!!" (She was talking about her period.) To which all of the ladies in the room died laughing.

Seperate, but Equal

Got links to two websites today that I found MOST interesting:

http://loannabeek.blogspot.com/

http://www.cassettefrommyex.com/

I Can Haz Cheezburger

more cat pictures


This is my one-hundreth post.

Not for all the Olives in Italy

Last night at the Beer Garden, There is this new bar in the Old Port which has some foreign name and about a million really expensive beers, which we've been calling the Beer Garden. Last night, some friends and I were enjoying a round after dinner, on their deck, just a quiet Sunday night, when this happened...

Guy from table perpendicular to us: HEY! You bitches want some olives?

Me (frowning): No!

Guy: How'd you know I was talking to you?

Me: Because you're looking right at me! I don't even like olives!

Sound Opinions

As most of you know, I've become the biggest public radio nerd ever. I know almost the entire Maine Public Broadcasting Network weekend schedule, by heart! Ask me what the difference between NPR, PRI and APM is... and prepare to get bored.

But in all seriousness, it's partially because of my job. For approximately an hour every day, I have this one task that involves some data entry, then mail merging that data, then stuffing envelopes. That hour goes by much faster when accompanied by an episode of This American Life or Weekend America, or some other hour long program. Next week is my two year anniversary at this job, so ah, I've sort of run out of shows to listen to. I was streaming New York City's public radio station, and then I was streaming Chicago's public radio station (the two best in the country) but in the morning they do a lot of local news... and it doesn't really apply.

Let me get to the point- I've been listening to this great show called SoundOpinions. As a person who has spent a lot of her life talking about music, it's been great to kick back and hear someone else do the talking. People I agree with, no less! The hosts of SoundOpinions, the only rock and roll talk show in the country, are both critics at newspapers in Chicago... the Sun and the Tribune. They are very, very aware of things going on in the world of music, and have some great opinions! They don't always agree, and they often take calls from listeners. I highly recommend checking it out at soundopinions.org, especially the episode they recap their SXSW trip.

If you are right now thinking to yourself, "I would never ever listen to that, Thanks for a waste of a blog entry, Aman-duh," do me a favor and mentally count the amount of times you've watched High Fidelity, then reconsider.

Like a Unicorn jumping over a Rainbow

Heather and I were just blog-skimming. We saw something of interest... that was pretty awesome. Without saying a word, our jaws dropped, we BOTH pointed at the screen, then gave each other the best, most in-sync high five ever.

Then proceeded to laugh really hard at how ridiculous we are. AMAZING!

Hopefully this is newsworthy...

My cat just played fetch with me. She is pretty awesome.

Jon Lester and the Fabulous No-Hitter

Me (upon arriving at my coffeeshop in Westbrook, The Daily Grind): Hey, how 'bout that Jon Lester no hitter!

Daily Grind Guy: I know! It was awesome!

Me: Yeah, what cancer! (high five) And did you know that Varitek-

DGG: Caught the last four no hitters! That's a record!

Me: I know. And that diving catch Ellsbury made? He's like, on fire.

DGG: Man... chicks who like sports are awesome!

What kind of music do YOU like?

Being a person who worked at a record store for a long time, I've had a fair amount of time to think about the question, "What kind of music do you like?" It's just about the dumbest question you can ask a person. How are you supposed to answer without sounding like an idiot or a snob?

I never know what to say. I can't say "Rock," because that's too broad, but it's the most accurate. I can't say "Indie Rock," because that's too specific, and half the time people don't even KNOW what indie rock is! Plus, it doesn't nearly explain the wide range of my collection. It's also not appropriate to say "Everything." When people say that they like "everything," they mean everything on the radio. But it's awkward to explain, "Well, I like Indie Rock, Soul, some Rap, Top 40, Jazz, but only in the morning, Showtunes, and the occasional Punk Rock."

This happened to my friend Heather the other day, while she was working at the coffeeshop. Her coworker, who usually listens to upbeat Soul, Dance and Hip Hop while working. He asked her, what kind of music she liked. I saw her face go blank and the wheels in her head turning, not knowing what to say. She is the kind of person who likes bands no one has ever heard of, and things that are only available on vinyl. But you can't really say that, even though it's true. So I piped in and SAVED her, with a joke. In a matter-of-fact voice: "Heather really likes hits of the 90's... especially TLC and 'No Diggity.' " Which isn't necessarily false, but we had a good laugh.

Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom

You might think I'm crazy, but I just saw Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom for the first time. And, I'm not sure if it's held up! I was offended on behalf of Indian people everywhere- I know that they don't eat scary bugs and monkey brain, they eat nan and mush! Sure, the end was exciting with the freeing of the children slaves and the train car ride (which reminded me of Kong for Super Nintendo... what a great game!) This doesn't however, hinder my excitement whatsoever to see the new Indy movie.

Just thought you guys might think this is funny:


It was a Red Cross Blood Drive. And I got bangs:

Blue Skies...

I know it's been a while since I've written, and it's certainly not due to a lack of happenings in my life. Indiana was great, Heather's birthday was great, the Kentucky Derby was great... I'm at sort of a turning point in my life, things are changing, decisions are to be made, and I've had to give these things a lot of thought. What do I really want to do with my life, what will really make me happy?

* * *

The other night, I was out with Josh's kickball team, celebrating their victory. Has anyone else had the experience of talking to someone new and them causing you to remember something you'd long forgotten? There was this senior thesis exhibit that I saw while I was attending Montserrat, and it was the most beautiful thing I'd ever seen. This girl took all of these pieces of white, antique fabric, which turned out to be many different shades of white and textures, then quilted them together. But before she did that, using a typewriter, she wrote on some of the squares what seemed like random lines from a diary or something. I stood there and looked at it and wept like a baby. And I'd completely forgotten.

From the Portrait Studio

Toilet Paper Wedding Dress

My coworker Katie, the one who gives me the tomatoes off of her salad and lets me pick out the least-beer-y beer for her, had her bridal shower today. Much to my delight, it wasn't horrible! We had a good time! The food was great, her family is really entertaining, and I probably had one glass of champagne spiked punch too many, considering it was two o'clock in the afternoon. She looked beautiful, got a million gifts, and wasn't too embarrassed by the box "to be shared with your husband."

But you see, my first real bridal shower left a bit of a sour taste in my mouth. She was my neighbor growing up- she was nineteen, and had been dating her fiance since sixteen. There was food, presents, relatives, the usual ho-hum. Then the games began. If you've ever been to a bridal shower, I'm sure you've played this game too. The toilet paper wedding dress game. (Katie, if you're reading this, I know that I just used a fragment sentence.) I was actually pretty psyched- at the time I considered myself something of an artist. My sister was the model and I made the best looking toilet paper dress in five minutes. It had a fitted bodice, trumpet skirt down to her calves, it really looked like a dress! However, it lost to a dress with a plastic cup bra a la Madonna modeled by some elderly, overweight aunt or something. Everyone thought it was hilarious! I was furious, and vowed never to play the game again OR to have fun at a bridal shower again.

I had just finished telling this story to Kelly, when some Memere came out with five rolls of unwrapped toilet paper. We looked at each other as soon as we saw them with the expression, "Holy Shit!" With Pauline, our boss, who is another veteran toilet paper dress maker, my coworkers and I made a dress so stunningly beautiful it will be remembered by all who was there to witness it. I'm not sure if I'd told this tragic tale to Katie or not, but she picked our dress! Redemption!

There will be a picture, eventually, but until then, look what I found when I Googled toilet paper wedding dress:



Apparently, there are contests...

These photos need no introduction

Last week on Conan

It's no secret that I'm a Sex and the City fan. Love it.

Has anyone else noticed how amazing Sarah Jessica Parker's ankles are?

Get Smart

I'm really excited to see this.

It was my Birthday!

I'm not usually this into birthdays, really, I'm not. Sure, there have been a few really awesome ones (ten-day birthday in Burlington, that boys vs. girls dance off at Darcy's, TCBY) and a few really bad ones (Captain Newick's, that time in Beverly when I didn't tell anyone.) I suppose I was craving attention or something, because this year, I told everyone.

You could say the celebration began on the Friday before, where my coworkers showered me with unexpected gifts, such as a bright yellow Steve Madden clutch, which I can't wait to take out, cupcakes, a gift certificate to the bakery, and a Charlie from Lost figurine with real sound from the movie "You All Everybody." Which has got to be the stupidest made-up hit song ever. Work didn't end until AFTER we got home from a fundraiser which happened to be a middle school dance. There were little mini versions of Pete Wentz, his girlfriend Ashlee Simpson, and his best friend the Panic at the Disco guy. Now I know what the Soulja Boy dance is, too (look it up on YouTube).

Saturday morning Heather and Darcy treated me to the Port Hole's version of the Grand Slam. We picked up Andrea, then did a ridiculous photo shoot at Darcy's, where we pretended to be professional figure skaters.


Josh took me out to a delicious sushi dinner, where he gave me the surprise of my life. He snuck out and gave the waitress my birthday present and a giant balloon. Then, the entire waitstaff came out with my ice cream, my present, and sang. I was so surprised.

After Jonathan Pappelbon struck out three batters in a row, and yes, he is on our fantasy team, Josh and I headed to the Top of the East, where I was about to accomplish the only two goals I had for my birthday: look hot and get drunk. Sammie and Isaac were waiting for us, and about thirteen more of my friends showed up. It was so nice to have everyone there just for me! All of my favorite people came, except for those who live far, far away, have babies or went to Man Man in Boston. We read Laffy Taffy jokes, Rebecca gave me earrings, Mandy brought presents too, Heather almost asked out a decorated Navel officer, Andrea charmed my friends with her out of town-ness, a large black man bought me a drink, and I met a real life Gaysian.


You can't tell from this photo, but my dress showed wicked cleavage. I was also wearing my "sexy" heels. Too bad it's over until next year. Also too bad my cat totally fell in love with Andrea. Slut. The cat, not Andrea.

And if any of you are reading this and thinking, but you didn't remember my birthday, I probably didn't... you should just remind me.

Batman?

Malcolm Gladwell wrote this book you might have heard of called the Tipping Point. It's on the NY Times best-seller list, or something. It also happens to be the book I'm reading right now. It's about how little things can make a huge difference. There is this chapter about the power of context, and as an example Gladwell talks about how New York City was ridden with crime, murders everywhere, conspiracy, and then in five years the crime rate dropped by 60% or something. And the way city officials were able to make the city safer by cleaning up the graffiti on the subway and stopping homeless people from peeing on the streets. Sounds like baby steps, right? The thinking was that if a potential criminal sees all these little crimes being committed, who is going to stop him from shooting someone.

MY thinking was, why not just do that Bat signal thing and get Batman to clean up the city? I'm also really excited for the new Batman movie.

Since You Been Gone

Before Josh and I headed over to the 500s show on Thursday, we decided to stop by the Flask Lounge. It's a former gay bar, reinvented as a hip new hangout, and they have a Wii! I popped a few bucks into the touch-screen jukebox, and gave Josh a few picks of his own. When it was my turn, I picked Kelly Clarkson "Since You Been Gone," which in case you don't know, is a pretty amazing song. Josh was able to only mildly ridicule me for this, seeing as though he'd never even heard the hit by the American Idol. It came on, I cheered, we finished our drinks, and headed over to the show.

I've never seen a 500s show that I didn't have complete, unadultered fun at. It's sort of impossible to not have fun when someone is singing songs about riding bikes and ice cream. Then, as if they knew somehow, the closed with none other than "Since You Been Gone." I punched Josh and jumped up and down like ten times while screaming the words at the top of my lungs. It couldn't have been awesomer.

Four Allagash Too Many

The other Tuesday night, I had a bit of a frustrating day at the office, and invited a coworker to go out with me for a beer. We shared a plate of mussells (where I pulled them from the shell!) and I enjoyed a nice cold Allagash. Then we talked about all kinds of office stuff, and decided that we'll see each other in hell for being so judgemental.

Anyway, so that was beer number one. I then met Heather at the Snug, where we talked about our weekend, etc. One thing led to another and I was on my second Snug beer, which was my third for the night, when Heather decided she shouldn't finish hers because she was feeling sick, so I downed the rest. In no time it was nine o'clock, and two more friends, Darcy and Nick, joined us when their movie got out. We ordered yet another round. I had no dinner, was four beers in, and feeling really, ah, giddy. We were having fun (so I'm told. I don't entirely remember.) Before Darcy and I went up for her second round and my fifth- I kind of wobbled over, I sent quite an inappropriate text message to an inappropriate person. When we sat back down, the bartender followed with my debit card. He closed my tab, cutting me off. It was a Tuesday night, and I got cut off. Granted, I'm a small person, and I had no dinner, but seriously, I felt bad about what I had done until I talked to the same coworker from before. She totally reassured me by saying something along the lines of, it's always a random Tuesday night that that happens. When you go out specifically to get drunk, it never seems to work out.

Unmentionable Places- Mentioned!

I went and had my *hmm-hum* looked at on Wednesday, and the good news is that I'm healthy as a horse. And in fact, either I had mistaken my weight, or I've somehow lost six pounds. Then I got to thinking about the reasons why I might have dropped some l-b-s, and it came to me: my boyfriend eats all of the food.

One Night at the Front Room

I had the weirdest night on Thursday. I left work at three to go see an apartment for my friend at four. It was a mere five blocks from my apartment, so imagine my joy when I walked up to my door to see my cat, an hour and a half earlier than normal!

Then imagine my horror when my keys were not at the bottom of my bag, but at the office, in my coworkers pocket, because I lent them to her. Josh was not going to be home for over an hour, so with few other options, I headed to the Front Room for happy hour.

It was pretty empty and quiet at first, with only a few other patrons at the bar. I talked to a man about how the day after St. Patrick's day should be the national holiday, so everyone could sleep off their hangover. Then a petite, well dressed black lady came and sat next to me. She introduced herself as Eman (or Iman?) and we began talking about all sorts of things, where she's lived, the Pretenders, jobs, non-profits, until I decided to ask her if she could think of anything that a group of 30 or so Bates graduates could work on for their day of service. But for some reason, I could not figure out how to properly phrase a group of Alumni. So I kind of stuttered a little bit until Eman said, What are they, black? And I smiled and said no, and she laughed at me because she saw that I was struggling and was just trying to help me out.

Rob, the bartender asks me if I want another beer and I say yes... Then I ask him if he thinks it would be possible to put Lost on if I stayed until 9. He went oh man, I wish! Wait, I don't wish, because then I wouldn't be able to see it! I tell him that I think they put Juliet on the show because she's got huge boobs, and none of the other women have huge boobs.

Then Bill, a lawyer/government official walked in. He knew Eman, so they started talking. The restaurant is getting louder by the moment. Bill is a man in his mid-fifties, I'd guess, with a military haircut, very white teeth, who was drinking Absolut in one glass and tonic in the other. I guess you get more alcohol that way? Since Eman abandoned me for someone more interesting and important, I called a friend, sent a few text messages, and then Andrea called and we talked briefly. During this time, Bill is making eye contact with me, which on one hand, freaks me out because I am a young lady at a bar, alone. On the other hand, I can't help but let it boost my ego a bit. More people that Eman knows come in and she talks with them, giving Bill the opportunity to come over.

He puts on is glasses and says that I have the most interesting phone, and asked me if I'd show him. Really, it's and LG White Chocolate and I got it free with my new-every-two thing. It looks cool, but it's just a crappy cell phone. Then he tells me that he hopes I'm not offended, but that I bear a striking resemblance to his mother when she was young. I am a little bit weirded out, but don't really mind. We talk about where he's from (Munjoy Hill) and I talk a little bit about where I'm from, tell him that I met Muhammad Ali, which I only tell people who I don't think will find me too interesting otherwise, it's like my high card. He's shocked and impressed. We get on the subject of coffee because I used to be a barista, and he tells me that he's got a very expensive espresso machine in his house- but it took him pounds and pounds of coffee to get it right! He asks me what my boyfriend does and I happen to mention that he went Brown, because he did, and Bill went to Brown too! Class of 83, graduated with JFK, Jr, who was even more handsome in person than in pictures. We talk about our humble beginnings, my art and finally Josh comes. It's 6:00 and I'm on my third beer. No food since lunch.

Josh walks in and the first thing he asks me is, aren't you supposed to meet Mandy (my face drops.) Josh and Bill start talking about Brown, then general Man stuff, and Mandy calls, I have her meet us at the Front Room. We were supposed to get together that night to give her a haircut. Surprisingly, after Bill paid for our beers and we all left, I convinced her that I could! Three beers in, although slightly functional, if I turned around too fast I'd loose my balance. Not exactly the state that I'd trust anyone to cut my hair. Mandy wanted me to take an inch off, I wanted to take four. I think I took about six, and she wasn't very happy (although her hair looks much healthier now.)

All in all, it was a quite a night. I never do that- but it felt good to be entertained by people I'd never met before. Here is a picture Mandy took the next day of her hair. You decide.

I Ain't No Baby Mama

Almost every young, sexually active woman I know is on some form of birth control (except for my teenage mom sister, but that's a completely different story.) I was having dinner with three such young women the other night, and somehow the conversation turned to birth control. Who's on what, who's tried what- it sort of felt like we were one of those informational articles you read in Glamour or Cosmo every six months. One of my friends, who would possibly actually kill me if I revealed her connection to this story, told us this, about the first time she went on the Pill...

I wasn't on the Pill for very long before I switched to the Nuva Ring. It was too many hormones, it totally messed me up. I'd take my pill, then for the next hour, I would be unbelievably horny. So horny, that I'd want to jump every man I saw! And you guys know that's very unlike me. I'd actually have to go to the back room and take a few deep breaths to calm myself down. Then, I'd get really, really nauseous. Like, doubled over. That pill messed with me, man.

My Doppleganger

I think I have a Doppelganger. Or, at least, there is someone walking around Portland who looks like me. A lot like me.

Josh and I were at Rosie's the other night. It's sort of our go-to neighborhood bar/burger place of choice. The woman who was waiting on us, presumably Rosie herself, came over and asked me if I wanted a Woodchuck. I politely declined, and instead ordered a Hooker Brown. There might have been once last fall that I ordered a Woodchuck, maybe. Figuring it was just a mistake, since we are frequent enough customers she MIGHT THINK she knew what my order was, I let it go. Until she came back for our food order and asked me if I was going to have the buffalo chicken fingers with ranch dressing. I sincerely hate ranch. She had be mixed up with someone else.

Then, two nights ago, I was at Shay's, and the same thing happened. The waitress asked me if I wanted a Malibu. I looked at her like, what the heck is a Malibu and why would I want it? And she quickly realized her mistake and said she mistook me for someone else who looked exactly like me.

My coworker was also out the other night and came back to work Monday morning and said, "I saw this girl in the Old Port who looked exactly like Amanda! She had the same purple tights and everything! But then I looked a little bit closer and realized she WASN'T Amanda." Which was correct, because Josh and I were at Norm's that night, where I was covering my face with buffalo wings.

So, I don't know what all of this means, other than sometime, I might be out, and see someone who looks exactly like me. Which might be weird. Although I think it might be weirder when you see someone wearing the same jacket or with the same coat... because that's obvious. On more than one occasion people have told me that I bear some resemblance to Larry David' wife on Curb Your Enthusiasm, but at least I'll never have to run into her at the Downtown Lounge.

See also the Andrew WK song, "I Want Your Face."

Fantasy Baseball

So, there have been some exciting changes in my life in the last seven days, although I've only mentioned one.

I joined a fantasy baseball league. No joking. My friend Maggie invited me to join, and all I could think was, why not? Since then, I've been thinking a lot about building my team. Which players I want (the good, likable ones), like that pitcher on the Cleveland Indians who completely held it together in a game against the Yankees last year- the field was inexplicably swarmed with these bugs- and the bugs were all up in the pitcher's business. But this guy stayed completely composed the whole time. There were these little bugs on his face and he threw strikes. And the ones I don't want (The Yankees), even if A-Rod is the number one draft pick in fantasy baseball. So, this should be pretty entertaining. I was explaining who my short stop choice was to a man I'd never met at a mutual friend's party on Friday, to which he told a friend via text message, who offered me a date if I was ever in LA (no, not Lewiston/Auburn.) I'm excited for my draft pick!

The other piece of really good news is that my job now offers a dental plan! Yay! Goodbye, cavities. The even better news, the man who took over my childhood dentist's practice, his son, moved the practice to Portland!

My New Baby

I adopted a cat on Friday. She's pretty much totally awesome, very curious, really likes to rub up against my legs, and even fell asleep on my lap! It's only been two days! We're calling her Baby, (Dirty Dancing... "Nobody puts Baby in a corner!") At the Animal Refuge League, I had to fill out a survey about the qualities I am looking for in a cat. The last line was a fill in the blank. It said: The most important thing is that my cat ______. I said, loves me. And I think she does!

The Day I Broke My Veggie Edge

In a recent post, I mentioned how delicious the hangar steak was at the Blue Spoon. A former coworker called me out, "Amanda, you eat meat now!?" I used to work at Austin's Fine Wine and Foods, where I dealt with some pretty gross, bloody, stinky meat. I'd slice the roast beef and there would be blood everywhere. I'd heat the corned beef and sauerkraut sandwiches with thousand island dressing on pumpernickel bread and want to DIE it smelled so bad. Now, I eat steak, burgers, bacon, bacon burgers, chicken on the bone, pork chops, buffalo wings, hot dogs...
(Abby, by the way, if you're reading this, Scott totally was sleeping with Missy and now Tim is my neighbor.)

For a while, it was back and forth, until deciding yes, I will be a vegetarian, (who occasionally ate fish for protein.) I only relapsed once in those years, at Mandy's birthday party. I was drinking, and must've been eye-balling Emily's chicken fingers because she offered me a bite, and I took it! But overall, I was proud of myself for resisting the temptation, and there are some delicious meat-free meals to be had out there, and a lot of scarily similar meat-tasting products. The whole thing went downhill once Josh came along. He himself is a former vegetarian, and he was meat-free for a lot longer than I was. Although I can't exactly remember the first meal we shared "out," I think it might have been when he got his first story aired on national radio. We went to Sebago Brewing Company and he ordered himself a Grey Goose martini and a burger. The first of MANY burgers I'd watch him eat. My mouth would water each and every time. Finally, one night I was on the phone with my carnivorous friend Andrea. I was planning on mac and cheese for dinner, supplemented with green peas. She says, "Nono, hot dogs in mac and cheese." That was it. I replied, "That sounds delicious... screw it. If I want a hot dog, I'm going to have a hot dog. I gotta go. I'm calling Josh and we're going to get a burger.
" That was it. We went to the Great Lost Bear, who I heard had one of the best burgers in town. (Their wings are awesome, too.) The bacon I ordered with breakfast the next weekend didn't sit quite so well in my stomach. Maybe it was my body telling me I wasn't getting enough protein, maybe it was peer pressure, but the rest is history.

Didn't You Know?

You know how there are things that you just wonder? Like, how they get the caps on the toothpaste and whatnot? I've been wondering whose job it is to shovel out the fire hydrants after a storm... is it the fire department, the dept of transportation, the plow people? It's the fire department. This weekend I saw out my window a firetruck drive by really, really slow. I squinted like George Castanza and realized it was two firefighters riding on the back, jumping off to shovel.

There was also this four foot, white haired old woman who I'd seen on numerous occasions, to my horror, leave the coffeeshop without paying. Then I saw her go in the law office next door. Ohhhh., I thought, they have an agreement!

And then there was the time that I said that I wanted to know who the Portland Valentine Bandit was. Someone told me. But I didn't really want to know... I just wanted to express how much curiosity it provokes. Who could possibly paper the city with taped-on red hearts? I'll give you a hint- they are probably on the clock when they do it at 3am. And yes, it's a they.

I know who does the Portland PSST blog too.

***

My mailman died of a heart attack while shoveling snow last night. I walked in this morning and asked, Why the long faces? He was a fifty-something, four foot nine little man full of piss and vinegar, as my mom would say. Once, I think he accidentally on purpose fell on me, but an otherwise harmless man who had pet names for all the girls. He walked around all day delivering letters, and seemed to have more energy than... most anyone else I know. I just can't believe that I razzed him for the last time. Life is so unpredictable.

The Blue Spoon

Josh and I just went to the Blue Spoon, a restaurant that we walk by every day.

I wanted to order a second round of everything I ordered- so I could make love to it. Usually, fancy dinners are reserved for times when someone else is footing the bill. But we went for it. I wore a low cut dress and actually put make up on. And it was so worth it. I got the hanger steak with rosemary broiled potato rounds. Josh got the big order of mussels in a white wine/garlic broth, then atlantic salmon with broccoli raab and an apple/celery puree. We shared entrees. And then shared the most delicious bittersweet chocolate thing.

I've had fancy meals before. I've had delicious meals before. But I can't remember being so thoroughly satisfied, ever. It was so good!

I am, by the way, digesting, in bed, and streaming this show called Cashmere Mafia, while writing (it's a show that's trying, and not exactly succeeding, to fill the void left by Sex and the City when it went off the air.) Josh is lying on the couch reading the most recent issue of the New Yorker.

Walk-a-thon

I don't generally talk about the actual work that I do about my job, here in my blogosphere. It's much funnier to explain why I couldn't figure out how to properly lock the bathroom door.

I help Jerry's Kids. Seriously.

In 2008 at the Muscular Dystrophy Association, the Maine chapter will raise over a million dollars. Seriously. Something like 76% of that money goes back to the families we serve. My job is to do mailings, pay the bills, answer the phone, etc. And it does get monotonous, even though my team of coworkers is as good of a team as anyone could ask for (not just saying that because one or two of you might be reading this.)

This weekend I was supposed to attend a fundraising event that we were having in Bangor. Barack and Hillary would be there (in Bangor, not at our fundraiser.) My coworker and I would go out to a movie, we'd have dinner together, and then I would go my OWN hotel room with my own bed with my own television. I was really excited... but we cancelled the event due to inclimate weather. Barack and Hillary are still going to be there. Honestly though, I was a little bummed. There were going to be families that we serve in attendance, and there is nothing that makes me more gung-ho to do my work than hanging out with a family who is excited about one of our events. It sorf of, you know, makes all the mundane stuff worth it.

The Greater Portland Metro

My neighbor rode home with me on the bus the other day, and it was a relief. He is the kind of person who knows everyone, and is extremely easy to talk to, friendly.

There is also a new guy on the bus. A normal, non-smelly guy, who could be the only person on the bus more normal than my. I heard him talking to some one else at the bus stop about this crazy ridiculous person he saw the other day! It was the man who shows up every once in a while dressed as Uncle Sam. I think I went through the same shock last year when I found the man on the bus dressed as Uncle Sam... until I realized that at tax season, which is now, his job is to stand outside Liberty Tax.

Other people on the bus... I try and decode who they are and where they're going, based on their dress and where they get off. What their jobs could be and which places are close enough from the stop to possibly be their jobs or wherever they're going.

The Misadventures Continue

In addition to people not respecting my personal space while in line, one of my other biggest pet peeves is bathroom doors with no locks. Because it is just about the worst, most embarassing thing ever for someone to walk in on you while you're in the bathroom. There is no lock on the door to the bathroom in the house I grew up in, so everytime we had guests I was completely paranoid that someone would just barge in. So I always run the water, in hopes that the person on the other side of the door will hear it.

At my office, a few people have been walked in on, myself included. The worst is always when that person gets in far enough to make eye contact. I'm particularly paranoid that same person will walk in on me again, because to begin with, we don't have the best relationship. I go to the Men's room, because there are no men in the office and it's like, three steps closer to my desk than the ladie's room. I recently realized that the button to lock the door will automatically unlock if it's locked before the door is closed. It's some kind of safety feature, so you don't get locked out. But until I realized that, I'd get in the door and lock it immediately. The door would close, then unlock itself, unbeknownst to me. With my pants around my ankles, just about ready to go, I'd squint at the door to make sure that it was locked. There is really no way of telling if the button is in from that distance, so I would hobble over to the door, re-lock it, then silently curse myself for forgetting to lock the door again. This whole hobble thing probably went on at least once a day for the last six months or so. Just thought you should know.


I can't believe I have no comments about the Netflix thing. How did that movie get back to my house?? In addition to watching and enjoying Best in Show today, I made cupcakes. According to People Magazine, cupcakes were a hot fad in 2007. I hope they are wrong about that, because I'd like cupcakes to be readily available forever. In this batch, I used half frosting from a can, half Fluff, plus a cherry. The results? Well, I'm going to finish my beer before I try it.

My Queue

The weirdest thing happened. We have Netflix and it's great... Josh and I enjoy democratically updating our queue, trying to compromise when rating movies. Movies come to our door, we put them in the mail, and another comes back. Until last Thursday, when everything changed.

During Christmas Movie Madness, we were going through movies like hotcakes, or more accurately, cupcakes. Somehow, since the beginning of our subscription, two movies had been sent back, but never received. The first time I thought, how strange! The second time, I thought, am I doing something wrong? And when I realized that Netflix hadn't received yet a third movie, the Charlie Brown Christmas, I really worried. If we reported another movie missing, again, it was going to look very suspicious. It was suspicious.

Last Thursday, Charlie Brown showed up in our mailbox, with no red envelope. Just the movie, in the sleeve, in our box. But how? Was someone stealing, watching, then returning our movies? Was it our neighbors? Was it purposeful? Something isn't right here.

I told Josh that we needed to stop leaving the movies for the letter carrier to pick up when he drops off the mail, that we need to start putting them in the blue USPS receptacle. But that didn't work. Saturday, on our way to Rivalries, I had two movies in my bag. One was Joyeux Noel, the other Easy Rider. We hadn't actually watched either. For anyone who doesn't have first hand experience, the packaging you receive the disc functions also as the return packaging. To return a movie, you tear off the front, which has your name and address, slip the disc in, and it seals. Josh tore off the front and sealed both of the movies. I put them in a mailbox across the street from the Asylum. There, I thought, try and take my movies now.

I suppose one could argue that what happened next is possible. Maybe I was distracted, or tipsier than I thought, and maybe one of them fell to the ground, or wasn't sealed properly or my name and address was still on it. I asked Josh three times if something could have gone awry when we were sending those movies back, and he said absolutely not, he is totally, completely positive. He was there, he sealed the envelope himself.

Joyeux Noel arrived in our mailbox yesterday. It was in an opened, but the front had not been torn off, rather, just taped closed. Now, how did it become reunited with the portion that has my mailing address? Did someone commit a Federal offense to take our movies? Is someone screwing with us?

More updates to come.

Who is this?

Last night, after eating delicious homemade pizza with Darcy and Heather, watching King of Kong and developing a crush on Steve Weibe, I reluctantly accompanied Josh to Rivalries, for the Patriots vs. Jacksonville. It was ridiculously packed, I mean, you could not turn around without bumping into the people surrounding you on all sides. If two years ago, you told me that I would have been at Rivalries, watching football, on that very night, I would have never believed you. Rivalries, for those who have not been there, is a dude bar. The front of house staff is entirely female, there are a million TVs, and the only girls who are there, except of course yours truly, are the kind of girls who wear pointy heels with their pink Manny Ramirez t-shirts, with the exception of the occasional over 40 married couples. Plus, I don't know anything about football. I can't even name more than one player on the Patriots, and the only reason I know that one is because he's dating Gisele!

Anyway, it used to be unlikely that I'd ever be there at that time. So I tried to think of someone who would appreciate the humor. My friend Gerry, who engineered the biggest tampon in existence, first taught me about Chuck Klosterman and has a nice smile, was a customer turned friend a few years ago. When I still thought of myself as "cool." Gerry, among other things, like the local music scene, drinking, and sports. We could not have been more different. He seemed to be the perfect person to be given the opportunity to make fun of me, so I sent him a text message that read: "Just wanted to let you know that I'm at Rivalries, and it's a klusterfuck." He responded, "Who is this?"

So much for my self deprecating humor that night.