BlogSport: November 2004

This is an atrocity

Shelby sent me this link to oddball automobiles and while most are entertaining, this one just made my blood run cold. If god blesses you with a high quality item, don't fuck it up, mmm'kay?!

Suzi spoke the words and a curse descended on the wine tasting....

A couple of weeks ago I noticed that the school's wine club was sponsoring an evening of Australian wines, hosted by none other than the Australian embassy. SWEET AND HOLY OZ. Could a night be more tailor-made for our ADD? Methinks....no. So right quick I wrangled Suzi and Grace and got us tickets to said event.

That same day, in chatting with Suz about the upcoming hoedown, she piped up with the following observations: 1. The tasting would be populated by only SAISers and 2. if there were any Australians there, they would no doubt be very unattractive.

I know!! Her heart is full of hate! Hate of Australians and not a little pessimistic buzz-killing of your ADD's full-blown lervy lerv lerv of all things antipodean. I assured her that she was full of shite, we made up, and I continued to look forward to the evening.

But I had forgotten that she is Asian, and therefore powerful and crafty (but neither sham nor bad morality, thank goodness) and lo and behold the wine tasting boasted only ONE Australian man and while attractive, I don't care for the "all my eggs in one basket" scenario and so, in that sense, the night bore out Suzi's dire predictions to a "T". Fortunately after the antics of last weekend I didn't much care, and catching up with Vroom^2 and the Q was plenty entertaining. Forgive and forget...but it's a good thing I like Suzi an awful lot, otherwise...POW!!

At least the wine was good, plentiful, and strong. Nothing like a buzz on a Monday night to warm you on the long metro ride home.

I think my relationship with my Express distributor has moved to a new level. I don't even read the Post's little morning 'zine, but the same fella is always by my metro stop handing them out each day. For the first few weeks that I was living at my apartment I would always greet him with a "Good morning" and "no thank you" when he tried to hand me a copy. Despite my never taking the paper he would always wish me a good day as I scooted past and into the depths of the Virginia Square station. Sometimes I thought he said something else, so low that I couldn't hear it, but I've never been sure. I just hoped that it wasn't vulgar or, worse, that it was something I should be replying to but I was unwittingly being rude by not answering. But this morning, as I passed him, after my "Good morning" I heard, low and clear, "Have a good day, BABY." Normally I would feel this was taking liberties and constituted grounds for an eye roll, but with him it's all good. BUT if we move into the realm of "sugar" or "boo" that's a whole other ball game.

Of course there's a whole story that goes along with the reunion and many pictures, but I haven't had time to download or clean up or compose anything. Plus, I'm going to the Australian Embassy (!!!!!!!!!!) for a wine tasting tonight so I probably won't get around to it before sometime tomorrow. But you wouldn't want me to rush it, would you? No, I didn't think so.

HHS Class of 1994. Not everyone squeezed in for this shot (which we took 1. for posterity and 2. for a classmate who is serving in Iraq right now) but I think you get the idea. It was a BLAST.

Pre-reunion, at the Fisher family home. More or less, Corinna and I look exactly the same as we did 10 years ago. We dress better now, but seriously...pretty static.

BlogSport is on a mini-break for the next few days while I trek home to Harrisonburg for my 10-year high school reunion. I have my new digital camera, extra batteries and memory card, and shiny new togs packed and ready to go. I doubt anything so interesting as James' party (complete w/ hooches) will take place, but here's hoping.

Happy Thanksgiving!!!

Have a lovely holiday full of food, fun, family, football, and the Bondathon on Spike TV. Or any combination thereof.

xo :)

Stone Finds New Career As Mail-Order Minister

"Sharon Stone is turning her hand at being a mail-order minister after performing her first official wedding over the weekend. The Basic Instinct actress, 46, presided over the union of restaurateur Michael Bourseau and sometime stylist Brenda Swanson at her Coldwater Canyon home in California - with Jack Nicholson and Robert Wagner serving as witnesses. Bourseau tells website Pagesix.Com, 'No one's going to believe it when I hang my wedding certificate up on the wall.'" (link, info courtesy of IMDB)

WTF, mate?

Hold still while I preach again on the necessity of knowing how to drive stick. People are so challenged by this sort of driving and it really isn't that big a deal. The learning curve is a bit steep at first, and the halting start-stall of early days is annoying, but once you know how to handle a gear shift you are SO HOOKED UP. I feel I need only direct you to case in point (WARNING: Spoiler alert), Maria and Mara who were eliminated from TAR last night because neither of them knew how to drive a standard transmission car. This handicap ate away at their time and made them juuuust slow enough that they lost. They lost a million dollars. They lost the chance to stay in for a few more legs and see some incredible places around the world, all on CBS's dollar. All because they learned on an automatic and left it at that. Don't let this be you, people.

On another note, in between hassling with my car last weekend, I went to see Bridget Jones 2: The Edge of Reason. My hopes weren't high because the book of the same title is not great. The original book is so clever and real and personable, but in the second Fielding has Bridget getting into scrapes that are so improbable, and behaving so dopily--the first Ms. Jones was comical but endearing. The second was simply hapless and painfully silly. I thought, with rewrites, the movie would be better, but alas, no. As much as I love the character, and love Colin Firth, the rest was just trumped up and disjointed and hamfisted with its attempts to play on the antics that charmed audiences the first time around. I'm sorry to say it, but save your money. Netflix it, maybe, but don't even fall all over yourself to do that, either.

The preview for "Meet the Fockers" looked AWESOME though. Can't wait for that.

THE SAGA

Saturday evening, after finishing a weekend shift at work, I hopped into BD and headed for Virginia Beach. Apart from drizzle and bad traffic as far as Quantico, the journey began uneventfully. Somewhere south of Richmond, unable to ignore the persistent, painful need to use a potty, I pulled off at a rest stop (an aside: I NEVER do this. When I drive somewhere, especially alone, I get in and I JUST GO. Back when I lived in Boston and I would come home to Virginia, I would do all eight hours of that without ever getting out of the car.) After coming out and starting up again, I noticed that BD had developed a distinct, loud, perpetual noise. BRRRRRRR RRRRRRRRRRRR BRRRRRRRR GRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR. This bothered me quite a bit, but he seemed to be running alright, and so I decided to press on. However, about 10 miles away from the rest stop, a white Hummer pulled up just off my bumper (other lane), flashed his/her/their brights, and then? Just sat there. Right off my bumper. FOR MILES. Now *that* officially freaked my shit out. Every email I'd ever received, every story I'd ever heard about women alone being preyed upon flashed through my mind. It was dark. It was late. It was remote. But the car kept running, so I kept going.

About 10 minutes of this tailing, and the Hummer finally pulled past and moved on, but never so far that he couldn't see me and I couldn't see him. Repeatedly, too, he would slow down enough that I caught up to his position. This went on for a good 30 miles, but each mile was bringing me closer to the end of the journey and apart from being really noisy, BD seemed fine, so I chose to press on rather than get off God knows where. Finally as I neared Newport News I felt I was close enough to my sister's that they could get me if the worst--a total breakdown--happened, and so I called her. I went so far as to give her the Hummer's license plate. Then, I kid you not, as soon as I made that call the Hummer took the next exit. I found that entirely sketchy (as if the situation wasn't already). After that I limped through the Hampton Roads Tunnel and off I-64, and made a beeline for my mechanic and had my pit crew (pictured) come pick me up.

I don't know what the deal ultimately was with that car following me. My car wasn't smoking, or sparking, so the Good Samaritan thing seems unlikely, especially since after the Hummer left the picture no other cars made similar gestures or alerted me to anything. I asked my mechanic if the problem with the car (a major exhaust leak, fixed to the tune of $225) was from normal wear and tear or if it looked to be manipulated or sabotaged in some way. He said no, it was just the consequence of having a 12 year-old car. So why the brights flashing? Why the tailgating? Why the preciptious exit after seeing me make a phone call?

That ordeal was not fun.

The Rescuers. Shelby (l) and Samantha, in their family minivan. After I limped the last 80 miles into Virginia Beach, they saved my sorry ass, picked me up at the service station, and comforted me with hugs. Thank GOD for family.

Saturday, I-395 at the Mixing Bowl. I thought that, leaving on a Saturday night, I'd miss most of the traffic hassles that this drive can visit upon a girl. I was wrong.

Tuesday: I-64 eastbound just before the Hampton Roads tunnel. I had been sitting in traffic like this for over 45 minutes by the time this picture was taken.

I-64. East- and westbound were both clogged like a motherf#!$er this morning. People LOSE THEY MINDS when it rains. StOOpid people.

The most rockin' librarian there is, full stop. Meet XO London, aka Steve.

My #1 SAIS wingman, Suzi Q. She and I make frequent forays to bakeries in the area, and then walk around to convince ourselves that we went out for the scenery and not the sugar. Yeah, right.

The streets around Dupont Circle have the sweetest, prettiest, most charming homes. This is a wee example of an inviting entranceway.

Don't these leaves look more like flower petals?

On walkabout with Suzi, we spied this heavenly golden tree near Dupont Circle.

Another view of The Perfect Fall Tree.

A flawless autumn tree at just outside my brother-in-law's office.

Is this for real?

I stumbled upon this, and at first thought, "Awesome! New international blogger!" (I particularly thought of Kristin and that she'd probably be tickled with his description of himself--especially that he is "sly") but then I saw the name of the blog and now I'm wondering. But feel free to look for yourself; time will tell.

Dear Diahrea

Been a long time gone

At least, it feels that way. I will write more later (and post piccies) but I did not have a relaxing beach getaway. First, Virginia Beach is only about 200 miles south of here, so not significantly different weather-wise (as in, no pool lounging or sunning-of-self took place). Second, the aforementioned major car hassle and sketchy highway experience (deets to follow). Third, traffic coming back this morning was ri-goddamn-diculous and what should have taken just under 3 hours took 4 and a half. I was un-motherfucking-happy. BUT I had a chance to listen to a lot of radio and enjoyed 1. a story about credit card debt in the US (a companion piece to a Frontline episode airing tonight) and 2. the first airing of the James Brown Show on WJFK, which just came onboard with the show today. Good S; more later.

Just to whet your appetite...

Got to Virginia Beach alright. Barely. Automobile troubles and some sketchy following/brights-flashing from other drivers.

Yeah, I had a BIG BEER once I got here.

Awww. The whole world doesn't hate us after all.

We said sorry. They said "We feel you."

Um, yeah, I'm at work right now and immediately after work I'm heading to Virginia Beach, so you won't hear much from me for a few days. BUT, I promise to return with photos and stories (mostly about how I'm taking a *mountain* of laundry to do to mooch off my sister's resources--scintillating) to fuel you those last few days before Turkey Day. Enjoy your weekend, bustahs!!

DON'T TEASE ME

Word on the street is that there's a live-action/CGI Transformers movie in the works. For rill. That would be so effing awesome...don't joke if it isn't happening. Link courtesy of Jimbo

Remember about a month ago when I told y'all I was getting a lovely new chair in my office? It arrived today, in all it's wine-colored glory. We're very thematic here at the library, with Tech Services sporting a wilderness green and Interlibrary Loan opting for a regal purple. But the best part is that the chair is factory fresh and has that new car smell!! Every time I pivot or flex, it's like I'm in a new ride, and who doesn't love that?!

I think most of us feel this way, but I CANNOT BELIEVE that it's less than a week until Thanksgiving. I always feel like Fall passes so quickly, but apparently I'm on some sort of hyper-accelerated turbo track that leaves me feeling very "Wha happened?" It doesn't help that it's going to be about 65 degrees today, making it that much harder to psych myself into the season. I've also mercifully stayed out of most stores in recent weeks and haven't seen the crush of premature Christmas decor that abounds, so I haven't been pummeled with "DID YOU KNOW IT'S THE HOLIDAYS?" references.

Of highest interest, though, is my 10-year high school reunion which is next Friday. That's a big part of why I got the new camera, and I will picture monkey as much as conversating and imbibing will allow, have no fear. I have to admit, I'm astonished at how excited I am for this event. Of course, it doesn't hurt that it's a chance for me to see my best hometown friend, Corinna. And did I mention the drinking?

Bubba done shrunk hisself!

I remember reading, just after Clinton's heart surgery, that he lost so much weight that the people finishing the PR for his library had to wait until he bulked back up so that pictures taken now more closely resembled older ones where he was his Mickey D's-loving self. I thought, nonsense, how can he look that different? But this picture illustrates the point. His face is much thinner, his neck all waddle, and all his wrinkles have sprung tiredly into relief. Go eat, man, for the love of Mike!

Sour grapes? Nah...

Yahoo! radio just spooled up one my (cliche) favorites, Frank Sinatra, singing a song titled Goody Goody. Anyone familiar? It is a very up-tempo, perky *sounding* song, but check out the lyrics:

So you met someone who set you back on your heels - goody, goody
You met someone and now you know how it feels - goody, goody
You gave him your heart too
Just as I gave mine to you
And he broke it in little pieces
Now how do you do

You lie awake just singing the blues all night - goody, goody
And you think that loves a barrel of dynamite
Hooray and hallelujah
You had it coming to ya
Goody goody for him, goody goody for me
I hope you're satisfied you rascal you
I hope you're satisfied 'cause you got yours

Damn, that's cold.

If this is not a shout-out, I don't know what is

Last night's West Wing episode featured 1. a blogger who 2. wrote about Josh who was 3. driving a huge vehicle with an internal combustion engine.

CLEARLY I am loved and appreciated, hailed in the halls of NBC. Now if only I could wield my power to do away with "ER."

Kills time *and* makes you feel muuuch better about yourself.

Say it with me, people..."Inner beauty. Inner beauty." Check it.

As Kristin likes to say, it's travel porn

As promised (or warned, however you look at it) my take on last night's Amazing Race premiere. First, I was with James all the way, rooting for Gus and Hera (he had me at "clandestine") but dude just does NOT have what it takes to make it through too many more challenges. I give every prop to his life experience and expertise but he is simply too out of shape to pose a threat to the whippersnappers. Sigh.

I'm a little disheartened (and I've said this before) about the propensity to cast models/actors on this show. Everyone seems to be from Texas or California, and while I like pretty as much as the next person, it gets old. BUT the teams comprised of said people fared well last night--as did Brandon and Nicole and (blech) Colin and Christie last time out, so we'll see.

There are several early contenders for the ADD "HATE" award. Among them the wrestling wife who sinks deep into redneck twang while browbeating her husband; "not gay" Adam (Hellboy is too cool a nickname for him) and his similarly illiterate partner; and finally, but most forcefully, Jonathan and his plastic, simpering wife Victoria. He is so hateful. Seriously, every word out of his mouth was a harangue of his wife (HOW has she put up with him for 5 minutes, let alone 7 years???) and it's his way or no way at all. He is convinced he is right and smart and best and handsome, while in fact being none of these things. His is a chafing personality. Except he has NO personality and JUST chafes. Cannot. be gone. fast enough.

But I am still endlessly pleased to have a new season up and running, going to new places (how breathtaking is Iceland, Land of Loca Bjork?), and editing the shit out of the antics perpetrated by these people. One request: STOP HUGGING PHIL. It was slightly entertaining when Myra did it because she was fucking crazy, but this is just a stale gag at this point. Don't ruffle the Kiwi.

The boys are back in town!

Huzzah!! Sonny and Steve returned safely from China last night. They are both home today, sleeping off their jet lag, doing laundry (hint hint, fellas) and figuring out how to transport all the goodies they bought me in to work. I've spurned all their emails with replies along the lines of "Steve who?" so don't let on that I missed them, mmm'kay?

D'oh, sorry Clarice!!

A belated happiest of birthdays to Clarence, whose big 2-8 was yesterday. I knew it but then promptly became ensconced in work and neglected to post about this most auspicious of occasions. I hope you and J-Blo celebrated in fine style!!

I can't believe I didn't mention this earlier, but last night on my way into the Farragut West metro station I heard the following:

"Mama. MAMA! Wartch the 6-o'clocks nehws tuuniiite. Some idiot set hisself on faaahr out fronnuh the Whiiiiyte Howse.

[pause] No it weren't me!"

Ah, tourists.

Apologies. I've been MIA today because it's been cra-zah bus-ay, but now I have a moment to write more about something truly important: TAR. Hee. CBS's website was being a POS this morning so I couldn't read about and vet teams as James so ably did, but now that I've had a chance to read their bios, I can chime in with some early thoughts.

The most prominent is this: in one of the bio "snippets" a team is quoted as "[hoping] to show the world that Mormons, Utahans and women can be interesting, exciting, and capable of competing in high-stress situations while maintaining core values." Very red state, no? Anyway, if you read on, you discover that this statement comes from 2 women who 1. consider one of the most special times they had as sisters was living together in Las Vegas--that hotbed of morality and traditionalism. GOD says what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas. 2. One of the women is the single mother of a 6-year old. Absolutely nothing wrong with that in my book, but as I recall out-of-wedlock fornication and procreation is grounds for eternal damnation per LDS, no? and 3. the other is a former STRIPTEASE AEROBICS INSTRUCTOR. Is that the typical CV of a Utah woman? Because if so, I would imagine that Adam is packing his bags RIGHT NOW to move there.

I just...give up. Do these people not read or understand what they're putting out there on the internets? Have someone objective proofread, chippies. Although, it shows YET AGAIN how masterful the producers behind TAR are, juxtaposing contestants own obliviousness and sans-irony self-absorption to highest comic value. Heart!

I can't believe I haven't been doing a countdown, but...

THE AMAZING RACE premieres a new season TONIGHT. 9 pm. CBS. Watch it b/c 1. you won't regret it 2. it's the best reality show out there, period and 3. I'm going to be talking about it a lot on this site so you best be learned up.

HOW TOXIC ARE YOU??

So titled was the piece of paper handed to me by a canvasser at 18th and M St. this afternoon. Some of the questions asked to help you answer this question:

1. Do you ever feel "wooden" or lifeless?

2. Have you ever experienced drug "flashbacks"?

3. Do you practice "excessive" use of "quotation marks"?

OK, not that last one, but I felt it pertinent. The flier goes on to talk about "accumulated" and "detrimental" levels of toxins, how they "dim" your life, and how L. RON HUBBARD and his Purification Program have the answer. Crazy reaches out from beyond the grave.

In case you haven't already...

I suggest you Ask Snoop. He will for rill translate the site of your choice, as he kindly did for the 'Sport. Some of my faves:

Instead of this, this: Where yo' ass goin? Kept this one show yo' ass how blue 'n clear da sky is today n' shit. This picture is totally unaltered n' shit.

Instead of this, this: Would yo' ass trust this mutha?

And this: It'll be like I has paparazzi! Christmas came early fo' yo' ADD." ...I gots a new digital camera yesterday!! I hope make BlogSport a much mo' photo-tastic place, full of da quirks 'n random beauty that I see from day day." Or just lots of freaky shit n' shit. Whichev n' shit.

N'shit.

Achieving Inner Peace

A woman read an article that stated: "The way to achieve inner peace is to finish all the things you've started." So she looked around the house to see all the things she started and hadn't finished....and before leaving the house this morning she finished off a bottle of red wine, a bottle of white wine, the Bailey's, the Prozac, some valium, some cheesecake and a box of chocolates.

Heh.

De facto Christian Scientists

I listened to a story on Morning Edition today about how most Americans are without adequate health care. Nothing new there. But the story quoted a woman who said she foregoes health insurance and regular care, and instead "...prays that nothing goes wrong."

Nothing against the Church of Christ, Science, but I'd rather that people were practicing its tenets out of choice and not out of impoverished desperation. Just sayin'.

I am OVER this shit, I tell you.

I stopped by Gravelly Point on the way home, in case you couldn't tell....

I got a little "Amelie" with this one

Pretty city

Where you goin? Kept this one to show you how blue and clear the sky is today. This picture is totally unaltered.

Would you trust this man?

Wow, Anne, another rowing-related story

Hey, I never purported to offer you anything different, and I must deliver the "sport" in BlogSport. Cherish this, because it'll be the last for awhile.

Last night I had my team dinner. A woman on the team lives in the swank townhouses right on the water just next to our boathouse, so it seemed the perfect location to gather. Better yet, we didn't fuss with a potluck or coordinating dishes. We got BARBECUE from Rocklands (godDAMN that stuff is good) and just did BYOB. Some people were Type A and brought food, but it wasn't necessary and I was mighty pleased about that. Anyhoo, we had a great time. I am by far the youngest person in my group, and they all treat me as a daughter, in the best way--all of the fondness with none of the rules or hassle. Just lots of great chat and comaraderie, and getting to meet people's spouses. The best part (from my POV) is that we finally get to see each other cleaned up, in street clothes. NOT at 5 am, NOT with bed-head. I honestly don't recognize people at first, the difference is that strong. I really love that gang of people--we've been through a lot together this year and have gutted it out and truly become a family of sorts. I'll miss them terribly over the winter.

I left the dinner needing to go home and straight to bed (more on why later) but got cajoled into meeting Des, Bry, and Matt out at the Sports Pub for a brief chat. I haven't seen any of them in ages, and I needed to see my peeps, youknowwhati'msaying??

So I agreed to be at the boathouse at 8 to help winterize and store the engines and launches used by the coaches. BUT then I agreed to meet up w/ a woman on my team to RUN AT 7, before we helped with the clean-up. I know. KRAZY. So Jill and I dutifully rendezvoused at the appointed hour and actually had a great run through Old Town. I had never run with anyone before and the time went really quickly! Then we hunkered into the engines, with me doing spark plug detail. This involved removing the engine hoods and changing the old plugs for new, on 14 separate engines. It actually was great experience and very instructive, but COLD AS ALL HOLY FUCK outside. The one sexciting interlude was the moment when a helicopter came barreling in over the Potomac, apparently following (chasing?) a speed boat. We couldn't tell if it was some sort of Coast Guard interdiction, or a film crew doing some sort of action sequence, or what. But the helicopter made my day (of course--it had one of those badass fenestron enclosed tail rotors; v. distinctive sound) so I could care less what they were up to.

I just feel so productive! I've done more with the first 3 hours of this day than I'll probably do with the other 12. I can pretty much guarantee this because my agenda right now? Is to take a nap.

You've come a long way, baby! Cindy's band featured on DCist!!

The fabulous and ridiculously tall Cindy and her band Full Minute of Mercury are mentioned on DCist today. The site mentions them as a "To Do" thing this weekend (they have a show at the Velvet Lounge) and I second that!! I can't go (rowing party) but I am totally rooting for one of W&M's finest.

I kinda love days like this. It's about 45 degrees and raining steadily in D.C. today. Call me crazy (hint, Adam: that's rhetorical) but there's something inherently cozy about rainy, gloomy days. I popped out just now for a restoring half-caff and a molasses cookie; just long enough to rosy up my cheeks and make me feel like I'd earned a warming treat. I think it all appeals to the innate homebody in me; why be out when you can be snuggly in?

What is it with me and HBO documentaries this week?

Last night I watched Last Letters, about the final correspondence received from soldiers killed in Iraq. Emails, letters, cards...all read by the family and friends left behind. Unbelievably hard to watch. I can honestly say I haven't cried that hard in a long time. Definitely not something that you're going to come away from with a warm fuzzy feeling, but also something it doesn't hurt to see, to remind ourselves of the sacrifices being made by soldiers and their families.

You'd think this would give me a moment's pause about posting pictures of me and mine so freely on the internets. But no. It just made me laugh heartily and disregard any prudent feelings of warning I might have. I shall post willy nilly and YOU CAN'T STOP ME.

I don't know what to do with my Kerry/Edwards gear

For the last week I've been glancing at the "Kerry/Edwards: A Stronger America" bumper sticker that I have tacked up in my office, and wondering "What do I with this now?" Same thing for the one I have at home. It makes me feel heartsick to think of throwing it out--that's just too literal a manifestation of how downcast I've been feeling. I can see saving one and tucking it into Ye Auld Scrapbook, but what to do with the other? At present I choose NOT to heat-seal it onto the side of a car sporting any sort of "W 04" paraphernalia. I know...such restraint.

Ideas, anyone?

Observances

Among the memorials planned for Thursday in the nation's capital:

A Defense Department World War II commemoration wreath laying is set at the World War II Memorial.

A wreath laying is planned at the Vietnam Veterans Memorial.

A special U.S. Army 1st Cavalry Division Association wreath-laying ceremony also is scheduled at the World War II Memorial.

cribbed from CNN.com

I drove past most of this on my way in just now. The Mall is teeming with veterans coming from or going to memorials and ceremonies. It's a perfect day to be outside doing that sort of thing, and I'm so glad they don't have to slog through crap weather to pay their respects.

If you run into a veteran today, say thank you.

Thanks, Dad. And Steve. And Colonel Smith. And Uncle Rick. And Marilyn. And Grandpa Doss. And Ryan. And Michael. And Pauline.

She's a lady...Grace at City Lights, November 2004. She totally did not want me to take a picture of her, and then once this was done she took one look and cried, "I TOTALLY LOVE THIS PICTURE!!"

Head...so...heavy. Must prop up gargantuan cranium with hand. (Notice how my fingers are caving under the pressure.)

The menu at City Lights has handy-dandy pictures to help you understand just what it is you're ordering. I honed in on this one because the bird looked so pathetic, dismembered and displayed this way. The saddest Cornish hen is a humiliated Cornish hen.

Probably one of the last days this year that the fountain in Dupont Circle will be flowing. A perfect, crisp November day.

You look good for 229 years old

Happy Birthday to the United States Marine Corps, founded this day, 1775.

The few. The proud. The often turbo-hot.

Yes, that's the official credo.

Do You Believe in Miracles?

I caught this last night on HBO; it's a 2001 documentary about the "Miracle on Ice" US Olympic hockey team's victory over the USSR in 1980. It is a very well made film, interspersing archival footage and interviews with US players, sports commentators (damn Al Michaels has been around a long time) and Soviet players to boot. What amazes me about this story--and this happened to me when I saw Miracle in the theater, too--is that I AM ON THE EDGE OF MY SEAT when I watch it. I know how it ends!! And still my heart races and I hold my breath and I watch the clock count down, feeling every second.

What was most interesting is that they frame the story in the overall context of how the US was faring internationally, economically, politically, and emotionally at the time of the win. Interviewees talk about the hostage taking in Iran in 1979, and the Soviet invasion of Afghanistan; the rampant inflation and recession crushing the US economy, and how, overall, Americans were not happy people or a happy nation. I saw many parallels to our situation today, and it helped to see that, tough as it was, we rebounded as a nation. I know that's a big generalization and I'm painting the issue in broad strokes, but I don't think it's wrong to take hope from it, or to use a sporting event writ large to make a comment on the human condition and how we treat each other. After last week, this made me feel better, and I'll take that at this point, no questions asked.

It'll be like I have paparazzi!

Christmas came early for your ADD...I got a new digital camera yesterday!! I hope to make BlogSport a much more photo-tastic place, full of the quirks and random beauty that I see from day to day. Or just lots of freaky shit. Whichev.

I had to get her learned up right quick

I was out jogging on Wilson Blvd. just now, trying to stay to well lit streets in the feeble hope that this would make it easier for me and cars to see each other. Silly me. Crossing an intersection (and a small one at that) a girl, in her car, ON THE PHONE, came rolling up to the stop sign. I saw her and slowed down, watching her to make sure that she saw me before I passed in front of her car. As a pedestrian I had the right of way, but also she was making a left onto the boulevard and no way was she going to do that before I needed to pass, so the logical thing would be for her to stop and wait, right? Right. So I start out into the intersection thinking that she saw me, but NO. She's looking to the left, and talking up a storm, and just keeps rolling...and rolling...right into me. I stopped before she hit me, but I reached out and did a quick double-smack with the flat of my hand on her hood. At least the wee twit had the decency to look startled and embarrassed. Her look seemed to show that she hadn't seen me or didn't think I was going to cross the street, but still. Pay motherfucking attention to what you're doing when you are operating something with a GVW of about 1.5 tons. I looked at her through the windshield, made eye contact, held up my hand in the universal "phone" gesture and said "GET OFF THE PHONE."

Damn, Gina, we both lucky you didn't hit me for rill.

Not that I needed to be told this--my dating record bears it out--but my god. As if the last week hasn't been depressing enough:

The Truth About Men in D.C. Is a Tough Pill to Swallow •

Guys, rejoice: Washington is the No. 1 place to find "babes." So claims Men's Health magazine, which ranks America's sexiest cities in its November issue. This city boasts "the highest percentage of young, single, college-educated women," according to the editors' analysis of U.S. Census info.

But while the mag christens us the "Dating Capital," there's very bad news for those ladies: Washington ranked No. 2 among 101 cities in erectile-function diagnoses and "the number of Cialis, Levitra and Viagra prescriptions dispensed per capita," Men's Health reports. Washington also ranked second in doctor visits for male-pattern baldness and sales of Rogaine.

But hold on! Whatever their other deficiencies, the men here stay in good physical shape. They score high for "best abs" and low for body mass index. "It may be the home of pork-barrel politics," the mag says, "but D.C.'s male population is far from porcine."

Hmm. Have those editors frequented any lobbyist-heavy steakhouses lately?

Copied from the Washington Post.

Predator was on last night and as I watched it I just kept thinking..."Oh look! There's the governor of California!....Look, there he goes again!" Disconcerting? You betcha.

D'oh

A belated happy FORTIETH birthday to my sister Malia. The big day was Sunday, and I sent a card, but didn't blog that day and neglected to send the shout-out on the internets. It's a banner occasion because now, officially, every Doss child is in their 40s except me.

Did anyone watch the Dallas reunion show last night?

I ask that in all seriousness, and I admit to being a huge fan of the show back in its heyday. The early 80s were all about Dukes of Hazzard and Dallas for my family. I was entirely too young to be watching JR seduce women and witness Cliff's alcoholism-induced backslide, but I think it taught me a lot about life. Lessons I still draw on today, as a matter of fact, whenever I need to use my share of Ewing Oil stock to secure a loan from my cheating husband or if I have to throw my wine glass into a roaring fire in a fit of despondency or rage. Lost arts, both of those things....

The timing is a bit eerie since Howard Keel died yesterday. He was Miss Ellie's second husband, Clayton, after Jock died. But I heart him because I saw him in all those old musicals from the 50s and 60s. My parents loved those things and we watched them all the time. Aside from "1776," "Seven Brides for Seven Brothers" is my favorite musical of all time. HK had an amazing voice and he wasn't too hard to look at either. Sigh.

Sunday re-cap

Briefly: up at 6:30 to go to the boathouse for re-rig post-race, and to clean and store the boats for the winter. You try putting your hands repeatedly into buckets of water in 45 degree weather and see how you feel. Let's just say I won't be doing hand lotion commercials anytime soon. Next, breakfast at Boulevard Wood Grill in Clarendon. NOTE: FUCKING WASHINGTON POST. I checked there to see what time BWG opened for brunch on Sundays, and saw that it was 11:30. So despite being dressed and famished at 10, Mom and I sat in my wee apartment and waited. And waited. And walked over only to discover that in fact they open at 10 on Sundays for brunch. FUCKING FUCK FUUUUUUUUCK. I was seriously so pissed. Do not trust the Post Entertainment guide. AT ALL. EVER. All I'm saying.

Basically the rest of the day need only be summarized thusly: The Redskins FINALLY won. And Clinton Portis threw a touchdown! So much for the great quarterback face-off between Brunell and Ramsey. We are still sucking le D and the lionshare of my mojo is in hibernation, but it was nice to not be nearly apoplectic on a Sunday afternoon. Even if it was only against Detroit. Shut up...don't spoil this for me.

Way enough....let it run

Saturday was my last regatta, and last rowing, of the 2004 season. My mom drove up from Virginia Beach for the occasion and we headed to Sandy Run around 11 that morning. Regattas are an all-day affair, no matter if you're rowing one race or three. You have to get there hours before your launch time to do what's called re-rigging the boat. We take shells to races on trailers, but to fit the maximum number of boats possible onto the trailer we have to take off all the side accoutrements that hold our oars on the water. So at the site, you have to put all that gear back on, and make sure everything is set for your body, and then go through a pre-race check with your coach on strategy, timing, course navigation, etc. Head races are 5000m, or 3.2 miles long. But with races like Occoquan, you have to row the length of the course to get to the start, and then race the course back down, so by the end you've rowed about 7 miles. We had some, um, mishaps during the race but it was a gorgeous day, and so fun to have a spectator there, that all in all it was a great end to the season. I won't say I'm sorry to see 4:45 wake-ups go away for a few months, but I always feel a pang when I come off the water and know I can't go back out until next year.

I distracted myself from this bittersweet ending by taking Mom to Sweet Water Tavern in Merrifield for dinner (remember--feed pain). I've heard people rave about this place for ages, but had never been and was CRAVING a steak so off we went. Despite the ridiculous wait time (AN HOUR AND A HALF...definitely call ahead) we got a table quickly once we arrived and enjoyed the most fabulous steaks, mashed potatoes, pumpkin ale (and a porter for me) and a wonka-huge slice of apple pie. South Beach who? I collapsed by 9:15 and dreamt of running into buoys. But that's a story for another time.

Night Stalkers Don't Quit

Friday night I donned my father's old flight jacket--complete with Helasron Two and Tonkin Gulf Yacht Club patches, among others--and went to the National Air and Space Museum for a lecture. It was the 8th annual Flight Jacket Night, but I went more to see CWO Michael Durant (USA-Ret.) His lecture was part of series on military aviation, and so he talked about flying, especially rotary aircraft, in the U.S. armed forces. Surprisingly he spoke less about Mogadishu then I expected, and more about the military in general, and also as a general frame of reference for his book, which he hawked with some skill to an obviously sympathetic audience.

I was, as I always am, awed and filled with admiration for the job done by men and women in the military. He spoke of being shot down, and losing comrades, and being a POW, as though it were a matter of course. Not coldly, but nothing dramatic, nothing sensationalized, no bragging--just the facts, ma'am. Despite agreeing with many of the things he said, I felt a bit discomfited while I was there, especially coming off of the week we had just had. The lost election, and my deep upset at the prospect of an increasingly conservative, Republican nation was DEFINITELY a minority opinion in that theater. But by the same token I think it made for a good lesson to me of how, while disagreeing with many Americans on some things, we can find common ground on others.

Besides...I'll take any excuse I can get to wear the jacket.

This is all you get. I'm not willing to post a full-body picture of me in my hybrid PLA/Walker: Texas Ranger Halloween costume. If you can pick me out amongst the background clutter (note to self: learn to block pictures better, or pose somewhere deserted)....

Somehow the jaunty tendril curl doesn't offset how menacing (or is that pissy?) I look. Go figure.

About to flip. my. shit.

Several things have piled up unexpectedly today to create a situation where my threshold is absolutely NIL. As a wee balm to my soul I just forked over $1.10 for an "extra point" Diet Dr. Pepper (whose bottle resembles a football, so glad I paid for that) and $.80 for a so-not-Big-Grab bag of Cheetos. Again, feeding the pain, except I'm so annoyed at what I paid that it's kind of a wash. Add to that that I just chanced to see CNN and they are ALREADY talking about potential candidates for 2008. Jesus Christ. I am desperately unhappy over Kerry's loss, but can we just take a breather for, oh, I don't know, a measly week before we work ourselves up into a lather all over again?!? I'm exhausted. THAT is why I have no tolerance. I'm so depressed about the state of the nation (insert New Order rendition here) and the death of all the hopes and empowerment I felt going into Tuesday. I can't take anymore right now.

Where I'll be tonight.

Where I'll be tomorrow.

My boys are gone

Steve and Sonny depart National in about 15 minutes, bound for China. I cannot believe that XO left me alone in the aftermath of Catastrophe 2004, but there it is. He's promised me dulcets from Beijing and Nanjing to make up for it. The office is going to be very lonely without them for the next 2 weeks.

"I'm roneree... so roneree."

Two things:

1. My theory is that the metro trains that crashed yesterday were driven by distraught Democrat conductors, and so it is an election-related incident.

2. A guy in my building is singing in the shower right now, and all I can think is "WHAT is there to sing about?! Why are you so happy? Are you....A REPUBLICAN?!"

"Oh God....I'm depressed."

There's a scene in Goonies right after Troy's dad leaves the papers evicting the Goonie families from their Goonie homes, when the kids go into Mikey and Brand's kitchen. Chunk makes a beeline for the fridge, grabs a can of Reddi-Whip, tips back his head, utters the above quotation, and sprays the lot in his mouth (notice the bits still clinging to his boca grande?). All day today, when I think about how I feel, that's the line I've heard in my head, in Chunk's voice. I think his prescription is a good one, except mine will involve an ice cold PBR (Bill I cannot thank you enough) and some red meat. Feed the pain.

Take a deep breath...

On the heels of a very melancholy chat with Kristin and then sending Des a message wherein I wished I could close my eyes and wake up in 2008, then cursed W for making me wish 4 years of my life away, I got this in an email from Steve.

I am still in the "licking wounds" phase and want to steep myself in that a bit longer, but the point is well taken. You gotta keep on keepin' on.

Also just wanted to salute Steve's and Kristin's eloquence: he likened this to grief counseling for each other, and she said this whole outcome makes her want to divorce half the country. Both are spot on, and as I'm searching for words to articulate my feelings and reaction to all this, when I get zingers like that you know I'm sharing them.

Dispirited

I feel very tired right now. The kind of fatigue that goes to your bones when there is an emotional, intellectual issue that challenges your reason and your faith. Thinking about what went wrong makes me deeply weary.

I know it isn't over, that it's close, and that we (I) shouldn't give up entirely right now (and I won't). And I didn't expect this to be a walk-away victory...I anticipated a long, drawn-out conclusion. But that is part of what has me feeling so blue this morning. Because whatever happens, this nation is fractured. We are split nearly clean-down-the-middle between the two camps. If Kerry wins I feel that he will do all he can to build consensus and a coalition and to try and meet his opposition as close to half-way as he can. But I do not have that same confidence in Bush. I feel--based on, um, the last four years of watching him act this way--that he will totally ignore his detractors, his devil's advocates, and anyone who does not side with him wholly and blow sunshine up his ass when things clearly don't go according to his [or Cheney's or Jesus'] plan. If he wins, especially with a GOP House AND Senate behind him, the divisions will only get worse, and half of the country will sink deeper into rancor and (worse) apathy.

I had such high hopes for many issues in this election--not least of which was voter turnout. New voters, more minority voters, and more young voters were all touted to be on the rise. It seems the first two came to fruition but I am SO ANGRY that the last did not. I don't understand where this disconnect comes from. I don't understand why people don't fall all over themselves to vote. I am also so sad over how many states' citizenry voted to ban same sex marriage. I feel like that is legislating--setting down indelibly on paper--hatred and discrimination and prejudice and willful misunderstanding. Do you really not have more pressing issues in your home town/state that require more urgent attention than whether 2 people who love each other and want to commit should be left alone to do so?

How can so many be so blind?
I won't lie...I'm worried, and a little scared.

On a side note, thank you to Clarence and Jonathan and Desiree and Bryan for hosting election night parties. It helped immeasurably, if it had to go down like this, to at least get the news in the company of friends. If I had room, I'd invite you guys over in return, but in lieu of that, I'll happily coordinate all the nights out of drowning our sorrows that any of you feel we require.

Sigh.

"Virginia is in play!!! It's viable! Come and stump heeeeeeere!!!!!!!" she sobs...

I was just scanning an article on Salon about all the famous Hollywood-types who turned out in Ohio to go DOOR-TO-DOOR to drum up support for Kerry. I thought, "Ooh! Paul Newman! Matt Dillon!" And then I saw this:

"As the presidential campaign careens toward its world-altering climax, Ohio feels like the improbable center of the universe. Besides the candidates and their relatives and surrogates, hordes of political celebrities and Hollywood stars are descending on this resolutely unglamorous state. "The Lord of the Rings" star Viggo Mortensen campaigned along with Howard Dean on Saturday."

I have never wanted to live in Ohio so badly in my entire life.

Quit while you're, well, not ahead, but at least less behind

Crossfire's resident dicks try to show they have senses of humor only to prove they have neither humor nor a sense of irony. (link courtesy of Des)

Undeterred

This morning I skipped rowing but still got up butt early, kitted up for the day, and was at my local voting location by 6:15. Silly Anne! That is not early enough!! There was already a line 200-strong when I arrived, and so I joined it, and stood, FREEZING, for an hour, inching ever closer to the front doors, warmth, and my "I Voted" sticker. Tick, tock....tick tock.... I waited for over an hour, and just as I got to the doors (but still with probably 20 or 30 minutes more to wait) I had to leave. HAD TO. I had an 8:15 appointment that I could *not* be late for, and so, after all that I had to go, stickerless. I was, seriously, dejected. I even called Kristin's voicemail and spoke, through gritted teeth, of my resounding annoyance. I really wanted to go through my day with that sticker, yo.

But fear not my friends!! My employer kindly gives each of us 2 hours off to vote, so I'm leaving work early, most likely to get back in another effing long-ass line. All that matters is that I cast my vote. Because if there's anything you know about me by now, it's that I have shit to say AND I WILL BE HEARD.

PS--I made it to my appointment in plenty of time, and the woman I met with had her daughter with her at work. The child's school was closed because of the elections, and so she was quietly entertaining herself at her mom's job. More impressive still was that I was telling my sob story to the lady of waiting and not making it in to vote, and she said, "Oh, I'm working this early shift so that I have the afternoon free to do just that. And I am taking my daughter because she WILL see how it works, and what she will do one day." I was *this* close to shouting "YOU GO GIRL!!" I didn't, though. Don't worry.

Remember this?

Well she's got some fancy new digs.

Dude, *gather*...don't alienate

I can't believe someone needs to make the point, but clearly R. Kelly has not learned that he should be working to keep supporters (and jobs) on his side right now. Not like he's got lots of sterling reputation to fall back on. Or, more concisely: karma.

Kristin, you could probably take this by correspondence course

I really can't talk too much shit because I went to a school that had "Reading the Modern Romance" [aka bodice rippers] on its curriculum, but I really don't think Simon Cowell needs the validation, do you?

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