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They Make a Great Team

Overheard one October eve in DC:

MS: Do you ever get the sense that we are a damn fine team?

GA: Sure.

MS: We’re like Simon and Garfunkel.

GA: I would have gone with Peaches and Herb, but whatever you say, Peaches.

MS: No man, seriously. We’re Simon and Garfunkel.

(Brief pause)

GA: Wait, does that make me Garfunkel in your little metaphor then?

MS: It’s an analogy.

GA: Oh, right. Still, you think I’m the Garfunkel, don’t you?

MS: Well, you are taller. . .

GA: Come on, he was a goon! I don’t want to be Garfunkel! With his yellow sponge cake head! Simon was the creative one. He was the one who played the sweet axe. What the hell did Garfunkel ever do, besides sing high pitches, and look like a tool?

MS: Yeah, but Garfunkel definitely pulled more chicks I bet. Think about it. He was the tall one, plus girls probably dug that awful hairstyle back in the day. He was definitely the ladies man, while Simon was more of the short dorky one. Bridge Over Troubled Water? Come on dude!

GA: I guess. . .

MS: You know I’m right. Garfunkel was the pimp! You are Garfunkel!

GA: You know what, I am Garfunkel! Damn right! Thanks, buddy. I needed that. Let’s hug it out.

MS: OK. . .

(Hugging it out)

MS: Hey, are you in the mood for yellow sponge cake now?

(Short pause)

GA: Yes. . . Jerk. . .

SCENE

Resisting a Cell Phone Culture

Maybe it's because I live on the side of a hill that sits on the fringe of cell phone tower range. But I can't seem to get over the frustration when people call my cell phone while I am at home. Call my home phone!

Some people don't have landlines anymore. Fine, that's their choice, but most of the world still has landlines. Those technology-forward folks have strong cell signals and assume everyone else does, too. They assume that because they only use their cell phones, I should be the same. I should no longer use my primary number because they don't. And for some reason, these people are incapable of grasping the concept that they should try me on my landline first.

They HAVE my numbers, all of them, but insist on calling my cell phone as their first and only point of contact for me. My phone will ring in the evening while I am at home, and because I know the call will sound broken up, I won't answer. I don't even retrieve the message they left until I am on the road somewhere the next day. To me, cellular service is still MOBILE service, often used as a quick convenience, not some everyday "catch up on everything" call. But I'm suddenly realizing that I am the minority here. (It's my 71-year-old mother in law who makes me feel like I'm behind the times when she calls on her cell phone to mine.)

So here's where I made a mistake - recently I started turning my cell phone off (gasp!) whenever I am at home. I figured people would take a big hint that if it goes staight to voicemail, call my landline. Duh, right? Well.. no. My doctor's office called last Thursday with an emergency related to my baby and I didn't get the message until Sunday night! I freaked out when I heard the words, "Come into our office immediately for another ultrasound..." Luckily, nothing was wrong and it's just a false alarm. But hello, call my house!

Here's another thing that pisses me off about cell phone culture: People who assume that just because they pay for text messages in their cell phone plan, I do, too. Um, no. I text message as fast as a snail and only do it three times a month. I don't pay for the service because it's silly. But the following is a real text message conversation I recently had. Please tell me why this couldn't be done over the phone or even in email. Why do I have to pay for these text messages???

You testifying on Monday and Tuesday?
No, I'm 9.5 months pregnant, I can't go.
I need you.
But I told you weeks ago.
My son is the most important thing to me, I need you to help me get
custody.
Yeah but please understand
I do, but you need to understand me, too. It helps my case for a pregnant
woman to testify against my ex wife.
I want to help but I have Dr appts and am exremely uncomfortable
I'll bring pillows
I need to put my feet up
You can do that
Please don't make me feel bad...

etc etc etc...

So annoying. Other examples are people texting me at midnight on a Friday asking about work stuff, or texts that I get days after they've been sent because, again, I do not keep my phone on during the weekends!!!

Another thing, and I'll make this short, is people who call me from their cell phones because they get free long distance, but they don't get it that they have bad signals and I can't hear them and they end up yelling during the entire conversation. UGH

OK i'm done... I hate cell phone culture.

A Cruel Twist

Why do we always want what we can’t have? If you think a girl is out of your league, you want her. If you ask her out and she inevitably turns your mediocre self down, you want her more. What a cruel twist of fate! There is only a short list of things that this theory does not apply to. That list is as follows:

• Ovarian Cancer: As a male, I can’t have it, but that doesn’t make me want it more.
• Siamese Twin: It’s simply too late to be born again with a sibling sticking out of my back. And that doesn’t make me crave that awkward deformity in any way.

End of list.
A Cruel twist indeed.

Jeering Johnson

Yesterday started typically. Had a voice mail from a friend of mine letting me know that in India, more people travel by train in a single day than by air all year long. I had to look up some more figures from the CIA World Factbook: It turns out that India has 63,230 km of railway. In comparison, the USA has 226,605 km. As far as airtravel goes, India has only 341 airports. 341! That's for 1 billion people. The USA? 14,858 airports for less than third of India's population. If everyone in India and the United States decided to fly at the same time you would have to cram 3,212,176 and 20,086 people in each country's airports respectively. I hope India either decides rail is just fine, or builds more airports.


While contemplating the conundrum above, my other friend announces she's pregnant. Her and her husband have been trying a while and we are all really happy for them. She thinks it's a girl. Statistically, according to ABC News last week, she's probably right.

I was looking for a proper segue to get the real subject of this rant, DC United, I couldn't think of anything clever. So, I thought I'd just come out with it: DC United's home opener was yesterday. We lost.

We didn't just lose. We played horribly. I cried in anger because United never mounted a significant or convincing offense. I watched in awe as our defense gave up four easy goals. I realized for a eternal moment, the man, my national team hero, Eddie Johnson was with the enemy.

Eddie played well for the Wizards. Really well. He had two assists and one goal in their 4-2 route of the home side. He seemed to be everywhere all at once and our defenders were either missing him all together or concentrating so hard on him, someone else got an easy chance at our goal. I was in almost the exact same seat when Eddie scored a hat trick for the US Men's National Team in their 6-0 clobbering of Panama in October of 2004. I had never been so floored by a USMNT player as I had that night. Chants of EDDIEEEEE, EDDIEEEEE, EDIEEEEE rang through RFK. The bleachers at RFK quite literally move up and down and they were moving that night. My friends and I cheered for Eddie as loud as we could until we were all hoarse. With sore throats, we went home wrapped in a blanket of victory.

Yet, Saturday night, as I watched Eddie Johnson move into what is now our house, not his house, and dismantle my team, I did something I never thought I would do. I cheered against Eddie Johnson at a live match in which I was in attendance. But I still couldn't do it out loud.

Links:
CIA World Fact Book
ABC News
My Pictures of USA Panama (Oct. 13 2004)
Eddie Johnson

Rachael Ray Diary

Rachael Ray - running diary of MLK day 30 Minute Meals. Today, she is making: penne pasta. EVOO counter: IIII

I judge celebrities the same as everybody else, I imagine. That is, to what degree would I have sex with them. I suppose I need to retain my credability by being honest here, so I'll admit I would do it in Rachael’s case. But it would be bad, I mean strictly missionary, preferably in the dark so I could picture somebody else. And she would have to have two solid layers of duct tape over her gigantic mouth, or be passed out. I probably wouldn't even be able to finish. I'd have to rub one out in the shower, get dressed quickly and drive home, weeping. So bottom line, it's not a ringing endorsement. Anyway, enough of the side bar. I now present to you my running diary of 30 Minute Meals, MLK day.

Show just started, and already annoyed. How many hand gestures can one use in a 30 second intro? answer: 17.

She says "cauliflower" with a huge overemphasis on the 'colly' part of the word. I hate her.

She's making a cauliflower sauce to accompany. . something, and says the sauce is an Italian classic. really? a classic? who eats cauliflower? I'm calling bullshit here.

The sauce is deemed "de-lish". Just awful... Finish your words, douche!

Good day to be Rachael, she's in the mood to thinly slice! fantastic. I'm in the mood to kick her.

She really hates 'too big onions'. I am wondering her thoughts on too small boobs.

"Anywho..." Christ, she's fake.

This meal is "super healthful". boy, oh boy, she has a way with words.

Apparently, she prefers a high volume of food in her meals. So, you like to eat big meals then? No shit, chubby. Look at yourself! Visible gut, no chest... reminds me of,...well, me. let's move on...

6 minutes in, first commercial break. She's averaging 900 words per minute.

Her mouth is gigantic. I am holding my remote control up to the tv sideways. It would fit... Rare positive thought: I bet she gives pretty decent head. I mean she sort of has to, right? That’s right girl, thin coating of EVOO on the digler, and go to town! Yeah, it’s ok if you want to go back for seconds. I know your hungry. And, scene.

She's quoting Mark Twain, "Cauliflower is like cabbage with a college education." That is going to be the dumbest thing you read for the remainder of the year. I'm not actually going to do the research here, but something tells me this is a gross misquote.

"De-lish" again! Again, Rachael? Really?

Close up of her hands. Nice nails. She must play softball. And a sharp white belt also. I'm just saying, if you wake up in the morning, and you know you are going to be on TV, why would select the white belt that is scuffed and dirty? I'm just saying...

"De-lish" again! Unbelievable.

So, portabellas are a beefy mushroom? Pretty good description... dummy.

She's off on a little tangent now, she simply doesn't understand how somebody could say they don't like mushrooms, because there isn't a lot of flavor there. Well, stupid, I don't like mushrooms! Why? Because they don't have any fucking flavor!!! They're bland! As a matter of fact, this napkin in my hand doesn't have much flavor either. Guess what, I don't like eating napkins!

16 minutes in, commercial break #2. This half hour can't pass fast enough. I still don't know what her main dish is. I guess I've been too busy pointing out her many flaws. What is accompanying that classic cauliflower sauce? I'm going to stop writing until I find out, plus my hand hurts a little...

Oh yeah, penne pasta, and now a side of kale. Yeah, this meal sounds de-lish!, if you enjoy the taste of anus.

Quote of the show so far: "I'm giving myself a pasta facial here." Let that quote sink in. I'm actively giggling as I write this down.

She's dumping pasta into boiling water, "just plop the kids into the hot tub..." That kind of sounds like a metaphor for taking a shit.

9 minutes to go!!!

Pasta facial! She said it again!!! She's filthy. She looks like she has bad breath, I can't explain this.
Last commercial break! almost there! Why am I punishing myself?

Back on, and Rachael is telling us that she is not a picky eater. So, I have a thought about this. Can I really take her opinion about food seriously if she's not a picky eater? I mean, if she is telling me that a meal is superb, why should believe that if I know she likes everything? Is any meal not superb? If some meals are not superb, then perhaps she is somewhat of a picky eater after all. But she just told the world that she not a picky eater. How can I ever believe her? If you don't have trust, then you don't have anything, and now I don't trust her. Give me a second, I need to regroup.

Alright, I'm back. She's making the finishing touches to the cauliflower sauce. It resembles vomit.

"De-lish" again!

And again! Twice in less than 20 seconds! She sounds like a complete moron at this point.

For the record, penne pasta with cauliflower sauce looks absolutely terrible. I mean, really really bad. Congrats on throwing together a shitty meal in only 30 minutes!

She's planning on treating herself to two helpings. I will now allow you to recover from the shock of hearing that. When you prepare a meal that you consider light and healthy, you want to eat more of it, according to Rachael's logic. Sort of defeats the purpose, don't you think? Perhaps I'm being a bit negative.

Alright, shows over! I feel terrible right now. I feel bad about what I'm doing, and what I just put myself through. I'm gonna play some nerf hoops for a little bit, clear my head.

10 minutes pass. I went 8 for 10 from the field with a wicked up-and-under dunk. I'm nasty.



Wrap up thought: So, I don't cook as often as the average person. I don't cook as often as the average paraplegic. But if I did, there is no way every dish I made would require olive oil. It's unbelievable to think of the amount of oil this girl puts through her body. Her digestive system must literally be a well-oiled machine. I bet if she swallowed an M&M whole, that very same shelled candy would completely pass through within a few minutes, and the ‘M’ would still be clearly visible.

Alright, I’m done. If you are a Rachael Ray fan, I’m sorry. Lata.

Hello, Goodbye.

And it's so far to fall
From the warm light in your eyes
To nothin' at all

-- Cheryl Wheeler, "So Far to Fall"

A few days ago I received a very special letter. It was a response to last week's letter I sent to my biological mother who gave me up for adoption 32 years ago. It was the most beautiful thing I've ever read in my life. She's kind and intelligent and witty and thoughtful. She answered some of the questions I had asked her, and some questions I didn't even know I had. Many questions, however, were left untouched. And faster than I could put pen to paper and write her again, she let me know that this would be the last time we'd correspond. In the kindest of ways, she asked me to not contact her again. It stung, but I cannot take it personally because I know how hard things must have been for her, and probably still are.

I know she is OK and that in many ways, I am like her. One thing in common is that we both love music. She gave me the name of a folk singer she loves, and suggested I check her out. I'm listening to Cheryl Wheeler's songs right now, wondering so many things...

Everywhere I turn everyone is lost in this thing
'Cause something feels gone
Life is nothing like we dreamed it might be
And we don't move forward, can't move back
We hold our hands out hoping for that
--
Seems impossible to know
What is real and what is just some restless thing
And our hearts learn slow all the miseries bad choices bring
So is it wise or lazy holding tight to what you've known
And is it brave or crazy searching for some

-- Cheryl Wheeler, "One Love"