I pickled some beets the other day using Alton Brown's pickle juice recipe and put it in the fridge. Haven't had the chance to try it yet, but it looks tasty. And it was easy. And I had two bulbs of kohlrabi still in the fridge so I figured why not pickle that too? Well, I'll tell you why. Using the vegetable peeler to peel the second bulb of kohlrabi resulted in me slicing the hell out of my left index finger. I mean, it could have been worse, it could have been my right index finger, but bleeding all over my kitchen floor is not my favorite thing to do. Still, I sliced the kohlrabi and sliced and parboiled the carrots, made my pickling mixture, didn't bleed on any of it, dumped it into an empty salsa jar, lidded it and fridged it. Hopefully I'll be able to serve pickled kohlrabi, carrots and beets at my shindig on Sunday. (By the by, it's finrto substitute prepared mustard for mustard seed in most recipes, but it does not do well to sub mustard in pickle juice. It breaks up weirdly)

So, that done, I shoved the carrot and kohlrabi peels down the disposal, turned on the water and ran it. Then the sink started backing up. The garbage disposal itself is clear, so whatever clogged it (either kohlrabi peelings or the outer garlic skin layer I think I shoved down there) is below the disposal bit. Baking soda, vinegar and hot water only resulted in me using up a bottle of white vinegar (we somehow have 3 in the house, so not a big). Plunging the sink just shoves water out of some kind of drain outlet next to the tap. One of the various answer sites said to run the dishwasher, which has resulted in the sink being full of disgusting gray water. Next step is Drano, which I hate because it's nasty, bad for the environment and frequently ineffective, but also a lot cheaper than a plumber. (This also begs the question of - do I tell my aunt I clogged the disposal? She might pay for a plumber but this also confirms to her that I am irresponsible and clumsy)

In other news, I love how much my side by side freezer holds, but the fridge holds surprisingly little. Though we do need to clean it out.

So, my passport expires in September and being the overly conscientious person that I am, I sent it in to be renewed. I just got it back today and noticed that my name is spelled kestrel127 Mc Gee instead of kestrel127 McGee. My ID does this too. I'm wondering if it's worth it to be fixed. (And if someone at the Social Security office screwed it all up for me somehow). All I have to do is fill out a form and mail it back with two new passport photos... except I'm pretty sure I threw out my extra passport photos. On the other, other hand, I have a digital camera and a photo printer.

( cut for exercise talk. No one cares but me. )
Bah. I need to stop talking big and start doing big. And maybe live with someone who shames me about eating again. That helped.

Karaoke tonight. Woo!

Saw (most of) The Unusuals pilot last night. Really liked it. Call me, Harold Perrineau!

Someday, I'd like to stop having songs stuck in my head. Christina's Internal Radio Station usually has songs on repeat and usually replaces words with things like 'monkeys' and 'pants' (for example, 'All she wants to do is dance' becomes 'All she wants to wear are pants.' And so on. And then I wonder... does she want to wear only pants (meaning no tops?) or just no dresses? Because apparently, I'm insane). It's weird.

Anyway, things and stuff. Stuff and things.

If you don't see the flickr or the twitter or the facebook, I fell down a flight of stairs at work yesterday. (Also, I probably should cut back on my social networking sites) It was the stupidest thing... I was wearing a pair of black, chunkier heels, got my left heel caught on my right pant leg cuff about 1/4 of the way down and just tumbled. The good news is that nothing's broken, sprained or anything else. I'm just bruised. I had my hands in or around the handrails when I started to tumble and I tried (really hard, if my soreness today is any indication) to haul myself up and regain my balance, so I didn't hit my head.

The best, the BEST part is that I fell right by the head of the company's office, so both he and his assistant came running out to see what was going on (as did half of my department and some actors from the rehearsal room next door). He accused someone in my department of pushing me down the stairs (jokingly) and made a comment about the henna on my hand before realizing I was pretty much OK and wandering off. Despite assurances that I was fine, they called in the paramedics (we always have some on site, due to the large number of people running in and out). They threw some ice packs on me, took my blood pressure (when I said that the rate was high for me, they pointed out that I had, in fact, just fallen down the stairs), made sure I didn't have head trauma, wasn't in shock and could walk, and then told me that I'd be sore tomorrow. They asked me if I wanted to go to the hospital and I declined (and had to sign a form refusing medical treatment. Fun). I figured that falling down stairs was a good excuse to leave early, so I got the OK from the boss, called stentoriansista to pick me up and limped homeward, where I proceeded to ice everything for a while.

Final tally is that both knees are bruised, as are both shins. My left shoulder (not great before this hullabaloo) is killing me, and my back is level of 'moved some heavy boxes' sore. I took a couple of Advil PM again last night (the itchies are still pretty itchy), so I'm still pretty tired. My low abs are super sore (they were sore from pilates yesterday, so it might be residual from that, I'm not sure).

Also, is it weird that my response to trauma was to be starving and sleepy?

At karaoke last night, I sang Sara Bareilles' "Love Song." I woke up this morning with it in my head, and like I usually do with song lyrics, started singing that I wasn't going to find you a monkey instead of write you a love song. And today's been light, so...

( Didn't you see that movie Outbreak? )
Clearly, I need to find something better to do with my time.

I'm having a trifecta of FAIL today:
-Last night, I left my knitting at a superbowl party. Luckily, it was at Mr. mel21clc's, so I'll get it back, but still... that pissed me off.
-Last night, when getting out of the car, I was carrying a coat, a purse and my iPod. Somewhere between the three, I dropped the iPod. It took me 20 minutes to figure out it was missing and another hour to find it, on the ground outside the car, which was parked on Meridian. (As a side note, I'm honestly surprised it was still there because this is Meridian. I was also surprised I didn't get set on fire while rummaging through the car at 1am) (Side note - see that black beetle in the third shot in the first post? That's stentoriansista's car. No, for reals) Because of these shenanigans, I didn't actually get to bed until 2am.
-This morning, after the usual 'omg, none of my pants fit' angst, I went to get dressed and go to work. I put on my super cool vintage necklace I got at accessories of old on Saturday... and it broke. Like, thread severed from findings, no real way to fix broke. Lame.

Since the universe deserves balance, here is a trifecta of WIN for you:
-Found said iPod, despite the fact that it was actually on the street and therefore could have been ganked by anyone with sharp eyes.
-Quickly got on to a completely empty S1 bus this morning, allowing me the seat of my choice (and a quick snooze).
-I still have 4 cups of cooked beets to enjoy at whim.

Though, another tick in both the fail and win columns is that I'm enjoying my first french press coffee with my swanky new french press at work (win!). Unfortunately, the hot water dispenser... dispensed some lukewarm water. Cold coffee. That I made way too strong (fail!)

You know, it was bad enough that I came in this morning and there was a mouse sitting ON MY DESK ON MY PHONE. Sure, one of the girls from the web department caught it and may or may not be taking it home to feed to her snake but then I got to clean mouse crap off my desk. Not fun.

Also not fun? These cramps. Ho mama, these are bad ones - I haven't had them this bad in months.

Also also? I'm secretly afraid he had a mouse buddy who's going to come along and nibble on my toes.

Just an addition to Friday's rant, the other things I absolutely cannot, cannot stand are:

-People who send in nice letters saying that they will be unable to support us and wish to be taken off our mailing list and do not include an address or phone number. Because, you know, I can totally tell which 'John Smith' to exclude.

-People who send all our mail to us back as a protest but remove anything that would include their name. There are few things more infuriating than opening an envelope to find all of the pieces we originally mailed someone, plus a privacy disclosure from their health care company (seriously, happened today), plus solicitations from credit card companies, plus the original response mechanism with the address carefully torn out. Please, continue shooting yourself in the foot.

The organization I work for sends out 'Become a member! Make a donation!' brochures 4 times a year, often to lists that we trade with like-minded organizations. These mailers include a prepaid envelope, brochures, etc... It's my job to go through any mail that comes through our PO Box that doesn't include checks - often times it's just 'take me off your mailing list' or 'I thought I already renewed' or, in rare cases, complaints that I get to address.

When acquisition mailers go out, I get a lot of 'take me off your mailing list' responses, which, fine, happy to do. And then... there are the weird ones.

You know, I'd really like to smack whoever wrote this email that makes the rounds. It's not true in several regards (the phone call where no one is there is a predictive dialer. Usually the person calling gets synced up with you almost immediately, but if everyone's busy, it can take a few minutes, leaving a telemarketer on hold for two minutes only gives the telemarketer a much needed break, since they can't actually hang up on you), but the one that affects my life on the day to day basis is the one where they say to return the junk mail in a prepaid envelope as a form of protest. People, this is just stupid. All it means is that you've cost me an extra stamp and that I get to recycle the mailer, not you. If you're so het up about receiving junk mail, why not mail back the response piece with the words 'take me off your list' written on it? It's not hard and it still doesn't cost you a dime because you've... wait for it... used the prepaid envelope! We honor your request so we stop wasting money and trees sending you crap, you live a happier life because crap is not sent to you. Huzzah! Everybody wins!

As a side note, if an organization is pissing you off enough that you want to call them and ask to be taken off their mailing list, for the love of all that's holy, have a piece of the mail in question in front of you. Exclusionary mail systems suck and one of the main reasons they suck is that if there's the slightest difference between what you ask them to exclude and what's in the system ("123 Fake St NW" vs. "123 Fake St. NW"), you won't get excluded. Having that piece of mail in front of you ensures that you'll off the lists faster and that the employee taking the call doesn't have to do 15 name and address variations in the hopes that one is right. (It's usually not)

Don't get me wrong, it's funny to me to see how many people just stuff the brochures in the envelopes to mail back, or what else they put in (today was Direct TV and religious tracts, more on those later, but I've also gotten Guns 'n' Ammo pages and a few other things). But when I get a stack of 'correspondence / no checks' mail as big as my hand and I throw out half of it because it contains shredded brochures, unshredded brochures and other stuff, well... it gets on my nerves. Really, it gets on my nerves because I picture these people at home going 'Aha! Take that, large non-profit organization! I tell you how much I dislike your mailing policies by sending you your own mail! I realize that you are a non-profit and rely on donations to survive, so I wish to charge you the price of stamp to express my dissatisfaction! My voice will be heard and change will come!' Because, you know, it won't and it won't. All I hear is a satisfying thunk in the recycle bin and I just accumulate a stack of premiums (here's a calendar! Now give us money for it) that I give to staff members and job applicants at whim.

Which leads us to probably the most fun part of dealing with the random crap in envelopes... the religious tracts. The stuff that comes in there is bananas. I've gotten this card:


twice. TWICE. What does that even mean? "Blood of Jesus Stripes?" As opposed to the blood of Jesus polka-dotting? The blood of Jesus in paisley? I've gotten a few other tracts, including one today telling me that we're in the end of days from Jehovah's Witnesses. I'm seriously considering keeping all of these things I get and making a collage except that I'm worried someone would think I was serious.

And before everyone climbs aboard the hate train, I would like to state for the record - I don't like junk mail. I tend to throw it out unopened. I understand the issues behind not wanting to receive junk mail. What I am annoyed with are the childish responses to it when acting mature would benefit all involved.

Last night was Thursday, otherwise known as karaoke night at Playbill. As has been our on again, off again tradition for the past six weeks, prettyprincessb, mareska, stentoriansista and I went out, had some cheap bacardi, ate some cake for bartender birthdays and sang some songs. My 'Add It Up' was shortly truncated at 4 minutes, so I did not, in fact, get to add it up. Woe. I might have rememebered what 8 was for this time... Also, I need some karaoke songs that both suit my range (mezzo soprano, actual soprano if I get warmed up) and level of awesome. Any ideas?

It got to last call and our fabulous server was singing 'Happy birthday... get the fuck out!' so we decided it was time to hit the road. I'd had just enough booze that going home at a relatively decent hour (2am) was outweighed by the promise of fried food, so we all headed over to the falafel and fry place in Adams Morgan with a few other folks. So, we've got our falafel and our fries, I have discovered the joys of garlic mayo, one of the girls has dropped one of the containers of delicious garlic mayo through the hole in the table intended for fries (and as I found out later, hit my foot), life is happy and we're being loud, generally happy, slightly tipsy people.

Until the people at the table next to us start getting into an argument with the employees. Apparently, one of the guys had spooned some sauces and toppings onto his half eaten falafel. That was unacceptable and a health hazard because he'd contaminated the food with his germs. We were kind of giggling at it, and then they started shouting at each other... One of the guys arguing told an employee to get the cops, the employee responded that he would, we decided that perhaps it was bed time after all. So, as we troop out of the falafel place (and I discover mayo on my shoe, woe), the employee heads out to the street. As we get into our car to leave, five moto-cops and three squad cars pull up, lights blazing. "Did he just call the cops for... double dipping?" We saw them escorting the gentlemen out of the premises as we drove off. Five motorcycle cops and three squad cards. (I wish the people starting flame wars on the 3-D substation Yahoo group about the lack of police presence in Adams Morgan could have seen that, too.)

Don't double dip, kids. They'll call the cops on your ass.

I've been meaning to blog both of these and have just plain forgotten.

On the way into the Old Crow Medicine Show, the guy in front of us is showing his tickets and ID, etc... He's got a small bag, which the bouncer asks him to open, which he does, to reveal a swanky camera. They tell him he can't bring it in. He responds that it's a low end camera. She asks if it has a detachable lens. He replies that it does. She says that he can't bring it in and calls her manager over to get the bag checked. This involves writing his name and address on a piece of masking tape, putting it on the bag and then locking the bag in the staff only box office. The entire time this happens, we can't go in because the bouncer has to check our IDs and the guy is whining, "I don't understand. It's a low end camera. I mean, it's a $500 camera!"

When the trashcan fire happened the other night, it started out with everyone in our building that was home kind of milling around and trying to figure out what was going on while getting deafened by the fire alarm until smoke started pouring from the trash chute. When the smoke first started coming out, this vaguely foreign lady in the world's ugliest nightgown (blue and orange flowers) was like, "What? It's just the incinerator." We don't have an incinerator. Thanks for setting the trash chute on fire, jackass.

Someone just set our trash chute on fire. Or something. We're not quite sure how the trash can at the bottom of our garbage chute caught fire, but it sure did. No one was hurt but we had to evacuate the building for a while. Sometimes it's nice to live down the street from the fire station. And have neighbors that are handy with fire extinguishers.

Nothing quite says minor building emergency like the smell of melted plastic.

I forgot to mention... with my tummy being punky on Friday, I ate several Pepto Bismol tablets. I woke up Saturday morning to... a black tongue. It's one of the side effects of Pepto Bismol chewables, but it definitely freaked me out first thing in the moring, like... did I have a lot of grape popsicles?! And all I could think about was that story of the poison on the edge of the Bible where the guy licks his finger to turn the page and then his tongue turns black and he dies and people stick out their tongues as a greeting to make sure that the person they're meeting is honorable. (Which I had been told was a folk legend in elementary school but is apparently in the plot of In the Name of the Rose?!) anneball thought I was a Chow Chow and stentoriansista thought I was a giraffe, so clearly I'm just weird that way.

Saturday night I fell asleep on the couch while watching Degrassi. I don't know which is worse. Crawled into bed to have one of the worst night's sleep I've had in a long time. I probably woke up 6 times between 12:30 and 6:30, at which point the cat realized I was awake and started meowing at me to come feed her (the cat is very sweet and very talkative when she wants something. Like food), so I stumbled out of bed and did and went back to sleep where I slept fitfully... until 8am. When someone nearby started hammering. And then they stopped. And then they started again. And then they stopped. And then they started what I originally thought was a chop saw but then later decided was an electric leaf blower. And then they stopped. And then they started again. And then they stopped. And then they started again. At which point I was seriously considering yelling out the window and telling them to shut the fuck up but I decided that wasn't polite, so I went back to the couch on the other side of the house to sleep (where I could still hear the leaf blower, but it was quieter) and continued to have really fitful sleep until noon. It was the kind of thing where you go to sleep and you have a bunch of dreams that feel really long and you wake up and it's 10 minutes later? Yeah, it sucked. Dragged myself out of bed, got some food in me and headed to the Uptown to see The Dark Knight with anneball and a friend. I got there wicked early and got in line at 2:30 for a 3:30 show... and was not the first person in line. (anneball, I will repay you for the ticket, I just didn't have any cash on me) We got kickin' seats and the movie was very, very good. I agree with the reviews... it's really not Batman's story, it's Harvey Dent's story and it's the Joker's story... both characters were much more interesting and dynamic than Batman's, who just stands around being conflicted.

The movie ended and it was 6:20 and there was a line down the street to Four Fields to get into the 7:05 show. Went to anneball's apartment to steal books and then I left 20 mintues later, the line was to the corner, around it and then up the street. For a 7pm show on a Sunday. Crazy.

Back at the cat-sitting house, the TV wouldn't turn on (...), so I sat and read on of the books I got while I listened to the people next door have a screaming fight for 45 minutes. At first I thought it was their television or people on the street, but I definitely put my ear to the wall like Nosey McNosersons and yep, this woman was full on screaming (at who? I have no idea). Took a bath, went to bed, left the house this morning and the owners should return tonight. All good in the hood.

Schwinn won't pay for labor to fix the crank and I'm sure as hell not going to, so it looks like the bike is going back to Amazon. I was actually really peeved when I went to City Bikes and found that they had two folding bikes after all. I guess when I get my prepaid return label and ship it back to Amazon, I'll have to go give the two folding bikes they have there a try. (That will make me feel better because I'll support my local bike store and get me some free service at the same time!) And if I don't like those, I might actually call Spokes Etc... instead of just checking their website. Hrm... now I have to figure out what to do with my b-day present from pucksraven and co (thanks again y'all!), since that got applied to the bike (which was also a present to stentoriansista since we could have gone on bike rides together... if said bike had actually worked properly. Bitches)

Also... the book I read last night? I am so embarrassed to admit it, but... Twilight. OMFG. OMFG. I just... wow. Y'all? ( Minor Spoilers. )

Just sent to metro via wmata.com's customer comment page

Why why why why WHY did you shut down one of the escalators for maintenance at EIGHT O'CLOCK ON A MONDAY MORNING?!?! It took me 10 minutes to leave the station this morning. There was a crowd of people (easily a 100) trying to navigate their way up one (non-functional) escalator, while the middle escalator was shut down and blocked off with one maintenance man just kind of sitting around not doing much. Foggy Bottom station still isn't air conditioned, so we got to broil while we shuffled slowly forward for 10 minutes. The other escalator worked... going down, so we got to watch maybe 10 people saunter down the escalator while we tried to press forward. Several people were late and desperate enough to try walking up the down escalator.

When at last victory was at hand and I started making my way up the stairs towards freedom, the same metro maintenance man told us we were walking up the stairs too quickly and we had to slow down.

I arrived at work 5 minutes late, sweating and pissed off, instead of 15 minutes early like I'd planned. Thanks a fucking lot, metro. I don't mind you screwing up my commute for reasons that make sense (track maintenance, issues with rail cars, traffic, and recently, when the bus I was on hit a car and made us all disembark and seek alternate means of transit), but this is just ridiculous. If you're going to close an escalator for much needed service, can you at least wait until rush hour is over?!

So, I had to go to Other Office today to drop off some paperwork. Other Office is up in Northeast, but I can get from work to Other Work back to work in about 40 minutes, so it's fine. Other Office also shares space with a dialysis center, so there's always MetroAccess cars and vans hanging around. Today, I'm walking up and there's a guy getting out of a car with the help of two ladies in scrubs.

Old Guy: Hey, beautiful, how you doin'
Me: ::smiles thinly, continues walking::
OG: She got some fiiiiiiiiine qualities about her, too!
Me: ::mouth open in shock::

Photocopy paperwork, exchange pleasantries, smooch girlyfriend, head out. About to cross New York Ave (a major, major street), when this SUV runs a redlight. As it speeds by, I see the driver talking on his cell phone (illegal in DC) and the DC logo and 'PARKING ENFORCEMENT.' I cross the street and see the back says 'How's my driving? Call 202-xxx-xxxx!' So, I did. I'm pretty sure I got his plates too.

Finally, I'm waiting for the train to pull in, as one comes in going the other way. Suddenly, the guy next to me screams 'NO NO NO NO NO NO' and goes running - turns out, he was stopping a young blind woman from walking into the gap between cars that she thought was the door. He then escorted her into the car.

How's your day been?

I was walking crosstown to drop off a grant application today when I saw a bus poster for K-Ville. The slogan printed across the top was "In New Orleans heroes don't run away." Which, I... uh... wow. First of all, that's the worst slogan ever. Heroes don't run away? What if they're chasing down bad guys? And then the bad guys come out with a rocket launcher? I know I'd run. And second, I know it's Fox and therefore dumb, but who is the genius who approved a major, national marketing campaign WITH A GRAMMATICAL ERROR? The COMMA, people. Learn it, live it, love it.

Good weekend. Saturday involved Terry Pratchett, a guy with a grey parrot on his shoulder, every street in civilization being closed off, ninth_raven being filled with rage, Becoming event at Haines Point (which was gorgeous!), home, grocery shopping, cooking everything in sight (chili, watermelon sorbet, roasted beets, chicken in crockpot & dinner) while listening to podcasts, spinning, wine, courtesans dying of consumption and wizards.

Sunday involved getting up, remaking the watermelon sorbet, eating leftover watermelon, going to Crafty Bastards, seeing the same guy with a grey parrot on his shoulder, buying too much stuff, getting jumbo slice, walking through an open house and doing a "what if we bought this?", reading bad literature, eating "dinner" with stentoriansista, mel21clc & friend at Bar Pilar (I spent $8 on a sausage), going home and eating real dinner, watching Stargate: Atlantis, reading some pr0n and going to bed. And now I'm at work. And I should be working. More.

Something had been bugging my foot for the past couple of days - I felt like I had something in my flip flop, but didn't. Finally, before yoga today, I decided I was getting to the bottom of this and noticed a small hole in the flop. After five minutes of wrangling, I pulled out a piece of glass that had somehow gotten embedded in there. The bottom of my foot is kind of raw now. Awesome.

Went to yoga with the annoying instructor. I don't like her, but the workout was pretty good and has helped ease some of the tension in my back & shoulders (a little bit less for the massage to take care of tonight).

This week has exploded into craziness. Trying to figure out which things to do over this weekend, what work commitments, what fun things, etc... I also need to get my shiny new stuff back from stentoriansista's and maybe play with the ice cream maker.

I let my aunt talk me into dogsitting again next week. Whatever, it's two nights and I can use the money. The good thing is the night I work is also the doggie day care day, so stupid fucking dog should come home and then pass out, leaving me free to take calls.

Dear Amazon.com, or more accurately, Dear Underpaid Customer Service Rep Who Has to Read This,

I just received an Amazon / Weight Watchers offer in my email. You know, I find this insulting. This is the second time I've received this offer in a year and I am not interested. The only conceivable "diet and fitness book" I could have bought was Overcoming Overeating (a book about how shit like Weight Watchers doesn't work and actually just sets you up for failure) from an amazon marketplace three years ago. For a dollar.

Thanks for saying I'm fat, though!

Hugs & Kisses,
Christina

First, the linkspam:

Christian group asks its members to pray for the demise of a watchdog group that turned them into the IRS for the improper use of funds - and people say Pagans are the evil cursers.

Don't sacrifice that goat in my backyard - except, of course, they don't. I mean, they do sacrifice goats occasionally, but it's done in a private setting. No attention-whoring at all. This is a great example of public perception vs. actual practices and how drastically different they often are.

DC's in a drought - what? We are? I hate to pull this out, but, yanno, I'm from California. (No, I, like, totally am) We had a 5 year drought when I was growing up. And you know what we did? We stopped watering our lawns. We put bricks in our toilet tanks. We took short showers with brand new low-flow showerheads. My teachers taught me the joys of "if it's yellow, let it mellow." But most importantly, we talked about it. Constantly. TV, class, social events. We talked about what was going on and what we should do to conserve water. It was like a game to us 8 year olds. We did not continue overwatering our lawn and keeping business as normal. I mean, really. Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to get some empty milkjugs to fill with sand or water and put them in my toilet tanks. PS - conserving water saves you money on your water bill, too, bitches.

In other news, stentoriansista and I watched three teenage girls fight with an old man on a bus last night. I mean like a change throwing, bitch slapping, physical altercation. For about 5 minutes. While the bus driver did nothing. Did I mention one of the girls was pregnant? It was awesome and slightly more entertaining than Reefer Madness, which we'd just come from seeing.

Yesterday, as I was taking the stairs to get to my street, a guy across the street on a bike started hey babying me. Like, he whistled and I looked up so he started yelling and calling me 'mamacita.' At this point, I was already up and out of sight, had been at work for a very long time and was generally cranky, so I yelled back for him to fuck off. I hadn't realized that he was crossing the street and then realized that I'd just insulted a guy and walked onto my quiet, secluded street and was about where I'd been mugged. Needless to say I started panicking. He continued yelling mamacita and said something about my butt (either that I had a great one or that I had a bug up it) and then I proceeded home without incident.

One of my roommates is moving out at the end of the week. This is fine, but she contributed a majority of the silverware and plates to the house. (Old Ex-Roommate left a bunch of her old plates, but it's not really enough) (Luckily, Roommate didn't contribute much else to the household) So, I need to get some plates and silverware. And there's a Crate and Barrel outlet not too far from where I live. And these are really pretty. Assuming the outlet store still has them. I know I'd probably get a better deal from IKEA, but is it really worth it to drive an hour to save $10? Their flatware is wicked expensive (also, ugly), so I'll probably grab that from Target. At some point. Anyway, I'm going to go look after work tonight and possibly buy it.

I desperately need to clean up - I've had a knitting project & various sewing projects hanging out in the living room since May / June and I need to wash my comforter because I spilled food on it last week. Something tells me that when I get home, all I'm gonna do is sit around and knit.

Speaking of, there's been a hysterical controversy over the Mystery Stole project I'm working on. Someone was looking at the chart, thought the designs looked SATANIC, so rather than continue working on SATAN'S SHAWL, she put it aside for a while and posted about it on ravelry and asked the designer. Everybody else knitting the shawl basically laughed at her and called her stupid names (I think - I don't read anything but special notices from the yahoo!group and I'll be damned if I go back to check), causing the mods to have a smackdown. Just really, though, the idea of it being SATAN'S SHAWL is just hysterical to me.

Someone started witnessing on the train as I was going to work today. He started shouting to the car, I said "Oh for Pete's sake" loudly and then got off (it was my stop). I was really tempted to be all "I r serious pagan, it r serious early" but I decided I didn't need an argument.

I am tired and my calves are sore. I don't think this has anything to do with the heavy drinking and various activities I did all three nights this weekend at all. Friday involved standing in hells for 6 hours, Saturday involved a big gay dance party and Sunday was walking around the national arboretum and getting winded after 5 minutes of hills. Please see one and two as well as a very little sleep for reasons why.

But yes, a good weekend. Friday was donor night where I realized one of the new girls in the box office went to my church growing up (in California). Her dad played the clarinet in the choir and my mom ran the Sunday School. We grew up three blocks apart from each other. So weird. Towards the end of the night, I got slightly drunk and honest and then I got home and got hit by a bout of nausea. Thanks tummy!

On Saturday, I got to be in the pride parade! stentoriansista had a car for work that was being used by a production company, so the two of us and some coworkers got to drive along or walk around and hand out flyers and things. Of course, the production company had a street team of 18 year olds who were acting very, very 18. The one downside of being in the parade is that you don't get to see the other floats, really. I mean, drag queens galore and HRC, SMYAL, Gay Men's Chorus, etc... but I missed Eleanor Holmes Norton and Adrian Fenty being prideful. And then I became a giant crankypants for reasons I'm still not entirely sure of - mostly whacking the hell out of my wrist on the car door and getting to clean up someone else's beer from the back of the car seat.

We took the bus back and 14th street was still blocked off. This old tourist couple from Florida on the bus saw us being cute and wearing beads and were all "Oh yes. We saw a bunch of gay men walking up the street earlier today." We gave them directions and the wife said that she was "sorry we missed the party!"

After a late dinner, we went to the pride after party at Love, otherwise known as a Big Gay Dance Party, which was too fabulous for words. I mean, the music sucked, a bud light cost $5, mel21clc couldn't drink because she was driving, but the scenery was fantastic. A couple voguing (CONSTANTLY), a guy in a spiderman hat and stilettos, an older leather daddy couple, etc...

Yesterday was Becoming and opening. Becoming was fun, if small. I think I'm permanently assigned dessert for their potlucks (fine by me! Cookies next month?). Went to go get my house key copied again to find that even the minions at Home Despot couldn't do it and I really do need to go to a locksmith. We are not amused. A trip to the fabric store, a trip to Wendy's, a glance through urban outfitters and I was at opening last night. Saw a show, hung out, drank booze, went home and went to bed. Managed to have a rather vivid dream where a woman was in my room. That was freaky. And now I'm at work. I'm going to the gym after work, then I'm making salad, and then I'm not drinking for the rest of the week. =)

Christina's Critic: Hey Psyche?
Christina's Psyche: Yo.
Critic: You notice something lately?
Psyche: Yeah. We rule.
Critic: Yeah. I'm not okay with this.
Psyche: No?
Critic: No. We keep this up, that stupid Sense of Self Worth might start actually acting up again.
Christina's Sense of Self Worth: Hey guys? Hello?
Psyche: I hate that guy. What can we do that would really, really crush him?
Sense of Self Worth: I'm standing right here...
Christina's Body: Done.
Psyche: Uh... wah?
Body: Done.
Critic: Explain, please.
Sense of Self Worth: What's going on?
Body: Remember how we've been eating well but having some portion control issues lately?
Critic: Weakling.
Body: And how we've been busy and stressed and therefore not exercising?
Psyche: Exercise sucks.
Sense of Self Worth: Why didn't someone tell me we were having a meeting? No one sent me the minutes from the last one!
Body: Well, now I've added inches. None of the summer skirts fit. Hell, she can't even zip most of 'em up!
Psyche: None?
Body: Not even the too big purple one she made last fall.
Critic: Wow, fatso, how much have you gained?
Body: Not that much... Five pounds? Maybe ten?
Psyche: Food makes me happy.
Critic: Well, I would have done it better, but that works.
Psyche: Let me just add some reinforcement that she'll die alone and unloved... and done.
Body: Who wants ice cream? I know I sure do.

Sense of Self Worth: So... cold...

Dear Amazon,

Thank you for this new definition of irony. I bought Overcoming Overeating from one of your marketplace stores two years ago for $2, a book about how diets don't work and you need to learn to just eat what you want, when you want, naturally and you'll eventually end at your healthy weight. And today, you send me an offer to get 25% off if I join Weight Watchers because I've bought books about diet and fitness.

So, thanks for the chuckle, but fuck you very much.

No love,
Christina

I got up at 6:35 this morning. I took a shower, got dressed and went down to the corner to wait for the bus. The bus arrived on time, the driver let me on and then proceeded to give me a lecture about how he doesn't pick people up from this stop during rush hour because it's impossible to get out of the mandatory right turn lane at that time. Which, true, but a) not my problem and b) the stop isn't serviced between 3-7pm for that reason, but there's absolutely NOTHING there about the morning times.

Then he let some guy on with a cat after Quaker Lane. My hand to ::spiritual being of your choice::, he let a CAT on the BUS. Not like a seeing eye cat, a cat in a cat carrier with a blanket over it. I thought it was a baby until it started yowling. The bus driver was annoyed with how much the cat smelled, so when he stopped at a red light, he parked the bus and got up to open all the windows of the bus. The light turned green while he was still parked. The guy took the bus for literally 5 stops, so tools all the way around.

Got to the dentist at 7:45 and got there before any of their medical personnel showed up. Awesome. Technician showed up about half a minute later and let me in, where I settled in with a glamour to wait. Interesting article about bisexuality in there, btw.

Permanent crown is in and it's sore, but it feels fine. Maybe a scoch too high - if it is, I'll call them about it.

So yes, I've been up for four hours, have just gotten to work, have five minutes to kill before this meeting and I'm seriously considering whether or not to make a complaint against this bus driver. Because that shit was bananas, yo.

I don't know if anybody saw this in the news lately, but an elementary school in California has banned most homework from the classroom. But, I should say, not just any elementary school. Oak Knoll Elementary School in Menlo Park, California. My elementary school. (Oak Knoll is our school, three cheers for Oak Knoll School! Rah! Rah! Rah!) Dammit, I graduated 15 years too late.

(link via my older brother, who shares my pain)