Special Guest Blogger

A couple of days ago, while telling a friend about my blogger's block, I came up with the idea of guest blog entries. Sometimes I become bored with my own writing. And if I get bored with my writing maybe the readers of this blog do too. So I asked this friend, or "Grandma" as she's known to some, to fill in for this month and she graciously humored my request. Enjoy and feel free to submit comments.

Grandma's entry:

"Perhaps this entry should be anonymous, as it describes in detail my descent into a life of crime. The story begins innocently enough when I decided to start biking to work. It’s a leisurely 1.5 mile commute, and there’s a bike rack right by my building. What I’ve noticed during my almost 2 years of parking there is that on this rack there is one bike that hasn’t moved. At first I noticed it collecting dust. Then one day, I noticed that half the rear fender had broken off. Later the seat was stolen. And still this bike hasn’t moved. Not an inch. I’m beginning to think no one is using this bike. Now normally this wouldn’t bother me, except the bike rack is getting pretty crowded, and this unused bike is taking up valuable real estate. I would move it myself except for the fact that the only thing of any value on this bicycle is the Kryptonite U-lock attaching it securely to the rack. (I wish I had a lock like that when my first bike was stolen from that very same rack).

Then, today, I had a moment of brilliance. I took a closer look at that U-lock and noticed that it has one of those circular key-holes, the kind that apparently are able to be picked with no more than a BiC pen. So I popped open a BiC pen and went down to the bike rack. This task was not as easy as the internet makes it appear. First, the pen wasn’t exactly the right diameter, so I stretched it out with a key and jammed it in. Then, all you’re supposed to have to do is twist, and the lock will come undone. The pen twisted, but the lock didn’t open. So my career as a master criminal ended as soon as it began. This is just as well, given that I went out in broad daylight and I’m pretty sure there would have been several eye-witnesses to my attempted theft. I left the pen in the lock, in hopes that a criminal more talented than I might hit the jackpot."

Added bonus video (also courtesy of Grandma): Do the Test

I Live for Stupid News

Inspiration for writing an original blog entry has been lacking of late. Until I get my writing mojo back, I can't resist sharing two news clips that I read this morning that brought immense joy to my commute to work.

From the Express, February 28, 2008:

It's All Fun and Games Until the Golf Course Needs Resodding

The mayor of Arlington, Ore., who once stripped down to her underwear and posed on a fire truck, has been stripped of her office. Citizens voted narrowly Monday to recall Carmen Kontur-Gronquist, effective Tuesday. She said the pictures of her were taken for use in a fitness contest, but a relative posted them on MySpace in hopes they would improve the social life of the single mother. They predated her election, but she said she saw no reason to take them off the site. Opponents said it wasn't fitting for the mayor to be depicted so. They said they also disagreed with her on issues about the local golf course.

Don't Mess with The Guy with the Spork

Police in Anchorage, Alaska, have arrested a man suspected of committing a robbery with a spork. Four parallel scratches on the robbery victim's side have led police to believe that the spoon and fork hybrid, rather than a knife, was used in the attack.

I love the fact that a spork was used in a robbery. What I want to know is, was it made of plastic or metal? I have only seen plastic sporks. Where can I acquire a stainless steel set?

Spork. It's one of my favorite words and it just might be my favorite eating utensil. It's also my new poking implement of choice.

It's Valentine's Day. Whoopee.

Credit: Nick Galifianakis for The Washington Post Photo

If s/he's not hot then why bother? Try and convince this shallow cynic otherwise. The comments section of this blog has been dead for months.

Mews of the Weird

For the past couple of months, I've been saving news clips that I enjoyed reading on my morning commute. After reviewing some of these articles, I noticed a theme: I like snuggly animals. And exotic poop.

Examples:

Tabby Gracie Mae's odyssey ended happily after she crawled into her owner's suitcase, went through an airport X-ray machine, was loaded onto a plane, thrown onto a baggage belt and mistakenly picked up far from home. The pet was returned by a stranger who went home with the wrong bag. "I went to unpack and saw it wasn't my suitcase," said Rob Carter. "A kitten jumped out and ran under the bed. I screamed like a little girl."-- January 24, 2008

Japanese scientists say they've used genetic engineering to create mice that show no fear of felines, a development that may shed new light on the nature of fear itself. Scientists at Tokyo University say they were able to successfully switch off a mouse's instinct to cower at the smell or presence of cats -- showing that fear is genetically hardwired. "Mice are naturally terrified of cats and usually panic or flee at the smell of one. But mice with certain nasal cells removed through genetic engineering didn't display any fear," said team leader Ko Kobayakawa. In his experiment, the genetically altered mice approached cats and even snuggled up to them. -- December 18, 2007


Who wouldn't want one of these kitties?

Not only are these cats clones -- they are clones that glow in the dark. Technically, says South Korea's Ministry of Science and Technology, they have a fluorescence protein gene that causes them to glow under ultraviolet beams. The technology could help develop treatments for human genetic diseases. -- December 14, 2007

Stumped about what to give that special someone? How about rhino dung? The International Rhino Foundation is auctioning separately on eBay four pieces from the endangered species and will use the proceeds to fund conservation efforts. The pieces come from four of the five types of rhino: white, black, Indian and Sumatran. The Javan rhino is so rare, a sample could not be collected. Each piece is mounted in a clear trophy case and marked with the type of rhino that produced it. -- December 7, 2007

Addendum: This is a little gem that Paul P. sent me this morning: Click here.

Green Eggs & Spam

A while back, someone named Ann at my company sent an e-mail with a question addressed to "Timekeeping & WebET Training." Due to some glitch, the message ended up in the e-mail box of every single employee.

Within a four minute period, while I was on the phone with a client, a flurry of e-mail responses popped up in my inbox. I stared at the computer screen, completely mesmerized. It was like watching a bag of popcorn self-inflate in a microwave.

The following is a sequence of messages (in verbatim) in response to the original e-mail**:

'Not in HR' Thelma (9:58am):

I'm not in that section, and I cannot answer any of your questions. Sorry…

'Not wanting to be left out' Laura (9:59am):
I also received this email by mistake and cannot answer your question.

'Confident that he can't help' Duane (10:00am):
I'm sure I'm not the person you need to direct this to.

'Replies to all to tell everyone not to reply to all' Lon (10:01am):
Stop replying to all. This message should not have been sent to this list. All staff should disregard.

'Likes to state the obvious' Jeannie (10:01am):
For some reason, when you sent this to Timekeeping and Training - it goes to everyone! No idea why!

'Not wanting to be outdone by Lon' Roger (10:02am):
To All:

Ignore and DO NOT RESPOND to the email originating from Ann or this email that you are reading.

'Clueless and probably hates his job' Nicholas (10:02am):
?

**Note: I don't actually know who any of these people are. It's a big company.

A little something to lighten the mood

This got a chuckle out of me today. It reminded me of the brain teasers I used to do in middle school.

Labyrinth PuzzleSource: http://xkcd.com/246/

Only 50 more years to retirement

The past couple of days have been challenging for me at work. It has been somewhat pathetic to realize that the biggest threat to my job security right now is my own incompetence. So in that spirit, here's a little news story that will either make you feel better about yourself, or if you're like me, feel some empathy for this schmuck of a buffoon of a boob:

"A man in Grand Rapids, Mich., who hid knives in his pants to try to steal them from a store tripped while fleeing and stabbed himself in the abdomen, police said."

-- Reported in the Express on Jan 9, 2008

In this house, everyone's a comic

Quotes of the Week:

"I'm gonna get you drunk in my hump. My lovely lady humps. Check it out, girl!" -- My niece, singing her rendition of "My Humps" while wriggling and slapping her diapered butt in my face. Kids these days are scary.

"Close, but no potatoes." -- My sister, while trying to fit two puzzle pieces together.

Brother-in-law: "Would you be able to tell that you were kissing a chimp while blindfolded?"
Sister: "You mean, would I be able to tell the difference between you and a chimp? No."
Zing!

Earlier tonight while we were all sitting in the dining room together, the phone rang, and I was volunteered to retrieve the phone and answer it. I hate answering any phone other than my cell phone because I know it is NEVER for me. In fact, calls to my cell phone often aren't for me either.

The conversation went as follows:

Me: "Hello?"
Caller: "Hi, how are you?"

I hate it when people either don't identify themselves immediately and just assume that a) they know who you are; or b) you know who they are.

Me: "Ah... Good."
Caller: "Wonderful! Is your mommy home?"

Whoa. Who the hell was this creepy person and why was he cooing at me?

Me: "Uh... I... my.... who is this?"

I walked back into the dining room.

Caller: "It's Ebby!"
Me: "Ebby?"
Caller: "Ebby!"

I shot desperate looks at both my sister and Nathaniel. Thankfully, there was a look of recognition from both of them. I practically threw the phone at Nathaniel, I was so anxious to get rid of it. Apparently, Ebby thought I was Ella (who is five years old).

That might be the last time I answer that phone. Ever.

Ho! Ho! Huh?

DC is an eerie town during the holidays. Closed are the stores, deserted are the streets. Even my family left for the other coast, leaving me with an empty house, a senile cat, and silence for a week.

Did I weep about my sad existence when they left? No, I did not. This morning, I donned a pair of fancy aviator shades, inserted a Madonna cd in the stereo, and pranced around the house, squawking into my toothbrush, pant-less with my underwear on my head. The cat really got a show while waiting to be fed.

And then I got dressed and went to work.

You can't say that I don't make the best of situations.

Happy Holidays!

The T.M.I. entry

I had a rough weekend battling a sore throat, cough, and congested snottiness. It was no surprise that I did not want to get out of the nest of my bed this morning to go to work.

When I finally lumbered into the bathroom to get ready, I looked in the mirror and experienced a Tom-Hanks-BIG moment. Who - or WHAT - was that staring back at me? My right eye was distinctly smaller than the other, weepy, and bloodshot. I looked like a demonic troll. It was not a good start to the day.

After dilly-dallying, I finally left the house and arrived at work just shy of 9:30am. My officemate took the day off so I had the whole room to myself. Throughout the day, I kept to myself and limited any in-person interactions as much as possible.

At around 2:30pm, my sister called to see how I was faring. I described my eye condition to her and she had a fit, putting the both of us into crisis mode.

"Conjunctivitis! That is pink eye! You must RUN TO THE DOCTOR RIGHT NOW!!!!!" she screamed into the phone, "Do you hear me? CON-JUNC-TIV-ITIS!!!"

One of my co-workers just happened to walk into my office at that very moment. I frantically tried to lower the volume on my cell phone and shield my fang-baring face from her.

"Are you okay?" she asked with a tinge of pity in her voice.

"Oh. Um, yeah, I'm... congested," I sputtered.

I put the phone back to my ear and my sister was still yelling about conjunctivitis, "It's highly contagious!!!!"

"Listen, you don't know that I have conjunctivitis," I hissed into the phone. I gave my colleague an apologetic look, who upon hearing "conjunctivitis" immediately jetted out of the room.

"You have to go see the doctor. RIGHT NOW."

"Look, before I trek all the way to the doctor's office, I'm going to make sure I need to see someone about it first," I said before hanging up.

I then called my health insurance provider and waited to speak to a nurse. I described my symptoms and expressed my concern about the possibility of having pink eye. The nurse was calm (unlike a certain sibling that I know) and asked me a series of questions about my troll eye.

"Is the discharge clear or green or yellow?"

"Clear."

"Is your eye swollen? As in, have people looked at you and said, 'Oh my god, what happened to you?!'"

"Um. No? I mean, it's slightly smaller than the other but not so much that it has caused alarm in my office."

"Does it hurt?"

"Not really. It feels a bit itchy."

"Does it feel like you have something in your eye or do you have trouble seeing because of cloudiness?"

"No. The film I feel on my eye seems to go away after I blink a few times."

"How is your immune system?"

This is where I felt like I was being asked a trick question.

"Um... bad?"

"What I meant was that do you have H.I.V. or cancer?"

"Oh, no."

"Have you had any unusual vaginal discharge?"

Uncomfortable silence. Where was she going with this?

"Um... No. Not unusual??"

Thank god my office mate wasn't in that day.

"I ask because conjunctivitis may be a symptom of chlamydia."

"Oh. Right. I don't think I have that."

And on and on. The nurse finally concluded that I likely did not have pink eye but suggested that I engage in some OCD hand-washing for the rest of the week. I got off the phone ECSTATIC not only because I probably didn't have pink eye but also because I did not have HIV, cancer, or an STD. But I left the office and went home early anyway.

What will tomorrow bring? I can't wait to find out...

Getting Lucky with Tegan and Sara

On Thanksgiving eve, I found out that Tegan and Sara were playing at the Lisner Auditorium over the weekend in DC, but when I inquired about available tickets, the show was completely sold out. Boo.

Instead of conceding defeat, I looked on Craigslist for extra tickets the next day. I found several listings for single and pairs of unwanted tickets for sale and e-mailed all of them. One woman with a pair of tickets responded almost immediately.

My second dilemma then became finding someone to go to the concert with me. Most people were out of town or busy; others I assumed wouldn't like angry girl indie alternative acoustic pop rock. I got mildly desperate and made a half-hearted attempt to coax Indhu to return from West Virginia a day early, but she gave some lame excuse about wanting to spend time with her family.

So I responded to the Craigslist woman asking if she'd be willing to part with just one ticket. She snubbed me by not replying. Blast! I was thwarted once again. But then some guy e-mailed me saying he had one single ticket still available.

My third dilemma was then to decide whether I should go alone. Some people don't mind, and in fact, might even enjoy doing things alone. I am not one of those people - except for when it comes to going to the bathroom. Despite the prevailing gender stereotype, I do not like going to a bathroom in a herd.

But I digress.

It was Saturday morning, the day of the concert, and I had nearly given up on the idea of going at all when I saw that Nick was on Gmail chat. On a whim, I asked if he wasn't interested in going to a concert with me that night, was he?

"What kind of music is it?" he asked.

"Oh, music you probably wouldn't like," I replied.

"Well, who is it?"

"Tegan and Sara."

"Who?"

"Exactly."

Five minutes later-

"Sure, I'll go."

"Really?"

"Yeah, I looked them up on their Myspace page. Their music seems good."

So I went back to Craigslist once again to look for two tickets. New listings selling unwanted tickets appeared. One sounded particularly desperate. I put my kick-ass negotiation skills to work and made an offer (2/3 of the face value). The woman accepted and we exchanged a few e-mails to plan the pick-up. In the end, she decided it was easier to drop them off at my house in the early evening. She even showed up on time. Just when I thought it couldn't possibly get any better, she gave me the tickets - for free!

I was stunned. I didn't quite catch why I didn't have to fork over $40; all I heard and remembered was the word "free." So not only did I get free tickets, I got them hand-delivered to my door. It was awesome!

Fast forward a few hours. The concert was fantastic. The Canadian identical twin sisters were very endearing on stage. They even had Nick lovestoned. They played new songs from their new album, old favorites, and a great cover of Rihanna's "Umbrella."

The sisters also claimed to love our nation's capital although what they associate with this place is a little alarming (but not entirely surprising). Tegan (or was it Sara? Damn twins...) told some story of how while they were desperately seeking a place to 'relieve' nausea from a severe hangover, they came across some sketchy drug deal involving cocaine in toothpaste boxes that went down in a McDonald's bathroom. We Americans sure know how to make a lasting impression.

Another highly entertaining moment was when Sara told the audience of how she had found a video on a fan site of a group of fans spanking each other during one of their concerts in Fort Lauderdale. It was so disturbing to her that right before they were about to perform the same song during which the alleged spanking took place, she asked that the house lights get turned on to discourage any potential spanking at this concert. So the lights went on and there was no spanking. We waited until after the show.

For Halloween, I think I'll be a six year old

For Halloween this year, I decided that I was going to be a chick magnet (i.e. pictures of hot women and baby chickens stuck onto a black outfit). It was my second choice costume; my first was a two-person horse, but Indhu refused to be the back half. Party pooper.

Speaking of parties, the party that I was invited to was this past Saturday night. Earlier that day, I began to piece my costume together. While my family was out having lunch with some friends, I found some trashy gossip magazines around the house, printed out some pictures of baby chickens off the internet, grabbed some of my niece's art supplies, and went to work on the kitchen table.

I first cut out pictures of celerity women and then colored in the black and white baby chick pictures with some of Ella's yellow crayons and color pencils. As I started to cut out the baby chick images, I heard the front door open. I had only expected my brother-in-law to come home after lunch but I heard unfamiliar voices trailing behind him.

He walked into the kitchen followed by four people I had not met before. Already embarrassed that I was still in my pajamas, I shyly said hello. They smiled at me and glanced at the kitchen table at what I was doing. As discreetly as I could, I started to sweep the pictures of scantily clad women underneath a pile of magazines with my hand. I figured that the baby chickens looked a lot less scandalous, so I took my pair of scissors and continued to cut those images out while they stood in the kitchen for a tour of the house.

As the tour progressed out into the backyard, one of the guests, an older woman in her sixties, who was the last to head outside, stopped near the table. In an attempt to seem friendly and engage me in conversation she asked, "Are you doing your homework?"

My homework? Do I look like I'm six years old, lady? Granted I had crayons, glue sticks, and pictures of chickens strewn on the table, but still. At that moment, I didn't know which was more mortifying -- the fact that this person thought I was decades younger than I was or the fact that I was caught coloring, an activity more common and acceptable for persons under the age of 10.

It didn't seem any better to explain that I was making a "chick magnet" for my Halloween costume either. This was one of those situations from which I could not extricate myself without some embarrassment on my part, the other party's, or both.

But in the end it was all worth it because hot chicks like Angie and J.Lo were all over me at the party. They must have been drawn to my magnetic personality and irresistible charm. Was it one sexy night, you ask? You bet it was. Just ask your mom.

Boo, the Working Stiff

Note the new title of my blog. I'm not bitter. Really.

Because what I am now is a productive member of society and that is because I sit at a desk in my respectable business clothes in a windowless office for nine consecutive hours a day from Monday through Friday and chat on Gmail.

Aside from the intermittent online socializing throughout the day, I do actually work. During my first week, I spent most of it completing several mandatory on-line trainings that included a 2.5 hour sexual harassment awareness training (I almost left out the "harassment" part when I wrote that) and attending meetings. But since then I've been assigned a few projects to keep me busy. My tasks include designing name tags and binder covers, ordering supplies, drafting up work plan documents, and doing online research on emerging lighting technologies. So far this job feels like a glorified internship; I've done similar work in the past as an intern but now I get paid a lot more for it! Hey, I ain't complaining.

The people in the office seem friendly enough, the ones that don't turn their head away and avert eye contact as you pass them in the hall are anyway. I suspect my officemate is a workaholic (even though he adamantly denies it) like many others in this office. People are there when I show up at 9 and they're still at their desks when I head out the door at 6 or later. The other day I asked a couple of my co-workers if they ever leave their offices or if they have a cot and sleeping bag tucked away under their desks. They just laughed and said I'd get used to it. I think I'm in a lot of trouble.

What happened to September?

I somehow missed blogging for the entire month of September! Where did the time go?

From the time of my last post to mid-September, I was busy applying and interviewing for jobs, which felt like a full-time job in of itself. I won't go into the nitty gritty of the process, but I will impart a few helpful interview "don'ts" for future reference:

1. Don't look like a deer caught in headlights, wild-eyed and panicked, on the question of "Why do you want to work for us?" And look interested when you're asked if the work they want you to do sounds interesting even if it makes you want to gouge your eyes out with a blunt pencil.

2. When talking about your qualifications and previous work experience, don't bring up an example that you can't remember in its entirety. For instance --

Interviewer: Describe your grad school course curriculum.

Job Applicant: One of the more interesting courses I took in grad school was cost-benefit analysis. For our final report, we applied the principles we learned to a real world case study. Uh... the case study was a transportation example... uh, about a bus line... in Seattle... um, no... I think it was Colorado... or was it Dallas? And... yeah, we did a cost-benefit analysis on whether to keep the bus line running.

Interviewer: Are you familiar with using spreadsheets and Excel?

Job Applicant: Oh yes! We used Excel quite a bit in our classes, and have you heard of Crystal Ball*? We used that in one of our classes. (*C.B. is an Excel add-in that allows you to perform risk analysis and forecasting)

Interviewer: Actually, we are very familiar with Crystal Ball. What did you do in Crystal Ball?

Job Applicant: Ah, well... (mind goes blank)... we ran, uh, monte carlo analysis, and lots of simulations. And, uh, I remember having to click on a lot of buttons and watch big graphs show up on the screen.

Believe it or not, they were impressed by this.

3. When asked to talk about the current book you're reading, do not say Philip Roth's "Portnoy's Complaint" even if Roth is one of American's great writers. If you are unfamiliar with this book and need further explanation, here's an excerpt, but be forewarned of objectionable and explicit content to follow.

"Into whose hole, into what sort of hole, I deposited my final load is entirely a matter for conjecture. It could be that in the end I wound up fucking some dank, odoriferous combination of sopping Italian pubic hair, greasy American buttock and absolutely rank bedsheet." (p. 138)

How many times can I say *not* appropriate in a job interview??

So despite all of the interviewing faux-pas I committed along the way, potential employers still actually wanted to hire me. I received three official job offers, one from government and two from the private sector. After much deliberation, I decided not to do the PMF program. I have instead accepted an offer at a consulting firm working on energy efficiency-related projects in downtown DC. It was a difficult decision in many ways, but hopefully the right one for me.

I start my new job this coming Monday. A full-time job with benefits. Crazy. I fought this day for as long as I could but I suppose it's about time that I try being a grown-up. I'm going to give this whole "adulthood" business a year and see how I like it. So for now, good-bye, idle days and hello, working world!

In other news--

I played in Sectionals a few weeks ago and Regionals last weekend up in Massachusetts with The Whole Damn Bus, a combination of alums and current Whiptails, and boy, was that the best time ever! I don't think I've laughed so hard and been so giddy with happiness in a long time. My birthday coincided with Regionals weekend, so I was able to spend it with some of my favorite people in the world.

Yesterday, I underwent oral surgery to remove three wisdom teeth. From taking naps on the couch, drooling excessively and involuntarily on pillows, getting my body pumped full of painkillers, and being only allowed to slurp jello for nourishment, I pretty much have a good idea of what life will be like for me sixty years from now. Yay, old age.

And now you're all caught up.

D.C. = Domestic Circus

After many weeks of traveling on the road and living out of a car, I had grown accustomed to having just the bare necessities (which includes my laptop of course). Sleeping on a therm-a-rest in a tent was the norm and upgrading to a motel room with hot showers and a door with a lock was considered a luxury. But now that I'm back in DC at my sister's house, I've been feeling overwhelmed by well, just about everything here.

First, there is so much stuff in this house. Not only do we have every thing you can possibly think of, there are at least twenty of each. It appears as though a neighborhood of houses got jammed together into one and then subsequently threw up on itself. And one fraction of it all is my own. Over the past three years I have accumulated my own stash of junk in the basement, which to my surprise, is a lot. Notebooks, CDs, linens, photos, clothes, books, magazines, and even four rolls of unused toilet paper all sitting in the corner of the storage room collecting dust and cricket poop. I have no idea what to do with it all except to start using the TP.

Second, DC is a sauna. The humidity is particularly unpleasant now after having lived in a dry climate for the past year and a half. Having grown soft, I'd break out in sweat just blinking. I wore jeans one day because I had no other clean laundry and it felt like wearing a wet suit in an oven.

Third, no one has missed me more and welcomed me back to DC more fondly than the Asian tiger mosquitoes. They descend upon you quietly and feed off you inconspicuously until finally you start to itch. By then, the welt on your skin has already swelled to the size of Texas and you can see it start to engulf the remainder of your limb. This act of autophagy is particularly attractive when it occurs on your face.

Fourth, I'm not used to a life of domesticity and routine. A typical day around here involves waking up, taking young child to school, going to work, picking up same child from school, returning home, eating dinner, watching TV, and going to sleep. Rinse and repeat. Why not just beat me senseless with a rolling pin now and get it over with?

Lastly, there is no such thing as a free lunch. Within hours of my arrival, I was enlisted as softball league fill-in player, babysitter, and cleaning lady. Whenever I'm asked to "watch" a softball game, I always end up forced to play. I am an Ultimate player; I do not interact with spherical objects. There's nothing more nerve wracking than when you're trying to bat with thirty pairs of eyes boring holes through your head, half of them silently willing you to miss and the other half willing you not to be the weakest link on the team. And when you actually hit the ball, it's a frantic, panicked sprint to first base. And if you happen to maul the first baseman on the way there, well, that's just part of the game.

Next, does it not strike you, as it did me, that to have a once a year major house cleaning scheduled within a week of my return is more than just mere coincidence?

And just this week, I had one of the more thrilling experiences of my babysitting career when my attempt to put my niece Ella to bed was temporarily thwarted. Near the end of the evening, I tried to lure Ella into her parents' bedroom for some storytelling and reading, but being a precocious five year old whose mental acuity is superior to my own, she saw right through my scheme.

Me: "C'mon, let's go snuggle up and read some books."
Ella: "How about we hang out in a different room away from a bed?"
Me: "But that's not any fun! Oh hey, I haven't seen Mommy and Daddy's room in a really long time! Let's go look at it!" (Ella sleeps with her parents in their bed)
Ella: "I know! Let's go to MY room instead!"
Me: "Why don't we pick out a book and go read it in bed!"
Ella: "I want to read a book to you in my room with all the lights on!"

Sensing that I wasn't going to make any progress, I walked to the master bedroom in hopes of Ella following me. As soon as I walked through the door, I was immediately hit with a god awful stench.

Me: "Oh... my... GOD! What is that SMELL?? Ella, do you SMELL THAT?!"

It was dark and I only had the hallway light to guide me into the front part of the room. I walked to the foot of the bed, gingerly picked up a couple of shirts, and sniffed them. They were not the culprits. Ella walked in behind me and I eyed her suspiciously.

Me: "Ella, do you smell POOP? Ella, did YOU just POOP?!"
Ella: "I did NOT poop!"
Me: "Do you not smell this atrocity???"
Ella: "I don't smell-- Oh, yeah, what is that?"

She walked further into the room to inspect the cause of the stink. As I turned my back to look for the light switch, Ella burst into tears.

Me: "What's wrong!"
Ella: "I... I... just stepped in cat poop! YAAAAAGHHHHH!!!"
Me: "What! Hold on! Don't move!!!"

I turned on the light and lo, and behold, Ella had planted her right foot into a big pile of wet cat turd on the rug. It smeared all over the bottom of her foot and before she could put her foot back down on the floor, I picked her up and ran her into the bathroom. She was hysterical and shrieking with disgust.

Ella: "Eeeeeeek!! Cat poop! Aaaugghhhh! SO GROSS! I CAN'T BELIEVE IT!! Yaaaugggghhh!! Get it off! Get it off! GET IT OOOOFFFFFFF!!!!!"

After cleaning her foot and calming her down, I placed Ella on the bed. And while she distracted herself with a book, I inspected the entire room for more cat poop. The cat had taken two dumps on the rug. Two mushy, bloody piles of turd. What on God's earth could he have possibly eaten that day to produce such a monstrosity of an excrement?

I will spare you the details of the clean up. To finish the story, Ella fought sleep as hard as she could but what finally did her in was when I started telling her everything I had done in the past few months on my travels (the same story I will be telling you on this blog). Within five minutes, her eyelids began to flutter. I stopped talking and waited. She jerked her head, turned to me, and said, "Just because my eyes are closed doesn't mean I'm asleep."

So I continued my story and within another minute, she was out cold.

What Happens in Vegas, Stays in Vegas

So Lesley, stop asking me about the prostitutes. If you want that kind of lovin’ you’re going to have to go to Vegas yourself and not expect to live vicariously through me cuz I ain’t telling.

At the moment, I am sitting in the Vegas airport, hours before my flight leaves for DC. Now that Lin has left for Minnesota, I must entertain myself. I could buy a book or magazine and actually read something of value for a change but I’m too cheap. But thank the lord for free wi-fi so I can check my e-mail every three seconds! However, because I haven’t received any new emails since the last 347 times I’ve checked, I might as well update my blog.

So let me back up for a second. As you may have gathered from my last post, I am back in the mother land after spending two and a half weeks driving through western and northern Australia in a campervan with Henry. My final days in Oz will get a post of its own – later. As will my Oz road trip with Lin back in January.

But first -- I’ve just completed an eight week trip through California, Colorado, Utah, Arizona, and Nevada, most of it with Lin. The reason I haven’t been blogging this whole time isn’t because I haven’t had any internet access but because, well you know, I’m not disciplined. Blogging used to be a procrastination activity from studying or working on a problem set, but now that I’m on “vacation,” blogging seems to take on more effort than I am willing to exert after a full day of hiking in 90 degree and above weather. But I digress…

Here is the cliff notes version of the last eight weeks. Look for the uncut and uncensored versions in the next week or so…

California:

• Visited Michelle in Pasadena
• Road tripped up to SF via scenic route 1
• Spent time with friends Mary, Val, Kris, and Rahul
• Met up with Lin for hiking and camping in Yosemite, Lake Tahoe, and Redwoods
  

Colorado:

• Met up with Lin and visited her cousin Larry in Fort Collins
• Participated in a week long environmental service trip clearing trails with Wilderness Volunteers in the Eagles Nest Wilderness area near Breckenridge
• Spent time with Ben, my brother-in-law's brother, in Lyons and Boulder
• Hiked through Maroon Bells, Gunnison National Park, and Mesa Verde
  

Utah:

• Hiked in various state and national parks including Arches Nat'l Park, Canyonlands, Valley of the Gods, Capitol Reef Nat'l Park, Natural Bridges, Grand Staircase-Escalante, Kodachrome Basin State Park, Bryce Canyon, and Zion Nat'l Park
  

Arizona:

• Admired the Grand Canyon from both the North and South Rims
• Ventured briefly to Monument Valley

Nevada:

• Did a drive by of the Hoover Dam
• Went for a quick dip in Lake Mead to cool off
• Gaped at the bright lights in Vegas, stuffed myself silly on buffet, went to a show, and well, that's all I'm gonna say...

P.S. - I have changed the title of this blog to more accurately reflect the nature of my posts. If you have suggestions for better titles, I'm open to hearing them.

#50

As the title of this post suggests, this is my 50th post. Woohoo! Given that I didn't think I'd blog for this long, this calls for some celebration. However, because I'm also a lazy blogger, "celebration" entails only sharing a bunch of random photos and a video (all of which are of the sixth grade toilet humor variety, of course) and asking YOU, the reader, to comment on how much you love me, this blog, and Lesley's mom! I'll be waiting...

A destination in Bangkok.

Indhu peeling a mangosteen a.k.a. the fleshiest, whitest, butt-like fruit EVER. This lewd act was committed in Bangkok.

Mama bear and baby bear toilets found in a stall in Malaysia.

A cartoon depicting what circumcision was like for little Malaysian boys back in the day. Found in the Malaysian National Museum (or some place of that sort).

An airplane barf bag that doubles as an envelope for film developing. Great multi-purpose bag but I wouldn't recommend putting any rolls of film in it after you've used it for motion sickness. Found on a Virgin Blue flight from Adelaide to Perth.

This is new "exercise" equipment for those who want to "ride horses" but are too lazy to ride the real thing. It looks like a toilet with a vibrating seat. I don't know about you but I think I can find at least a million other ways to spend my money than buy one of these. Giddyup!

Oh, and by the way, I'm now in California.

Singapore is a "FINE" city

Two days before the New Year, after Lin joined us in KL, the three of us took an overnight train into Singapore. It was also hot and humid there but unlike all of Malaysia, there was even less to do in Singapore. We spent an entire afternoon at the zoo and then went on a Night Safari. While the zoo during the day was very impressive (we saw polar bears, pumas, cougars, Bengal tigers, lions, elephants, giraffes, apes among a ton of others), I was largely disappointed by the Safari. First of all, the admission price was extremely expensive. Secondly, the line at the Safari was extremely long. Thirdly, being able to see more than just the silhouette of the animals was extremely difficult. Fourth of all, many of the so-called nocturnal animals were still asleep or inert and extremely boring to watch. Have I already mentioned that I was disappointed by the Night Safari? Lin, on the other hand, enjoyed it very much. She can sing its praises on her blog.

We spent the few days in Singapore mostly eating and walking around. I had wanted to visit Singapore because I was fascinated by its “rags to riches” history that occurred in a very short span of time as well as its reputation for strict laws and fines (for example, the ban on chewing gum which was recently overturned) and cleanliness. The city reminded me of Hong Kong with its western influences, trendy fashions, and bustling commercial activity.

As I had been told on several occasions, the main thing to do in Singapore is to shop until your wallet turns inside out, but I found the prices of consumer goods to be far more expensive than that of any other Asian country. Meals, on the other hand, were still reasonable compared to that of American, European or Australian standards, so instead of shopping we ate till our faces turned blue.

Lin slurping dessert

And that’s how we spent our time in Singapore.

AND THAT CONCLUDES MY SOUTH EAST ASIA TRIP! BOO-YA!

Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia

Here’s a tip for those traveling through South East Asia on a shoestring budget: If you fly on Air Asia, a low cost carrier, you should know that this airline does not pre-assign seats. Therefore, expect to be elbowed and shoved around by other passengers jockeying to get on the airplane before you, and in the name of self-preservation, prepare to elbow and shove back. I should have realized that it would be a free-for-all when I saw that my boarding pass didn’t have a seat number, and because other passengers kept trying to cut in front of me in the queue at the check-in counter, I should not have been surprised that this phenomenon would repeat itself at a larger scale during boarding at the gate.

Before boarding, don’t bother to bring a lot of carry-on luggage with you – it’ll just slow you down – unless you know how to wield it to your advantage. It also helps to have young children traveling with you – or at least claim to have young children traveling with you – as you can get priority of first seating. I’ve never seen adults so adamantly associate themselves with wild-haired, sticky-faced midgets before in my life – “Yes, I have children! Lots of them! (While shoving them through the throng of people) Now let me on that plane!!”

As soon as the boarding announcement was made, the masses descended upon and swarmed the two Air Asia employees at the gate. Restoring any semblance of order was futile. All the passengers began to squeeze into each other. I became wedged in the center of the herd and it was so tightly packed, I lost sight of my own arms.

One of the airline employees began to shout, “FORM A SINGLE LINE PLEASE! If you do not get in one line, YOU WILL NOT GET ON THE PLANE!” But everyone turned a deaf ear to his request.

While the airline staff continued to bark orders and make empty threats to little avail, one woman who was standing next to me huffed very loudly, “This is so insulting! They’re treating us like we’re barbarians! Like animals!” All the while she was expressing her disdain, her husband was slyly pushing me aside so he could step in front of me AS IF I couldn’t feel his bony elbow in my abdomen. Any little sympathy I had for her – or anyone else standing there for that matter – quickly dissipated from that point on.

Once I fought my way onto the aircraft I had to overcome the obstacle of finding a seat. People who were there before me had placed clothes, bags, whatever they had on hand on empty seats to save them for others who were still waiting to board. I had to rely on my cat-like reflexes and quickness to plant my butt in an unclaimed seat before someone else threw a handbag on it.

From the frantic chaos that ensued, it was nothing less than a miracle that the plane managed to take off with all its passengers in tow and land at its destination on time. While the flight itself went relatively smoothly I’m still bamboozled by the airline’s dreadful free-for-all seating process. I reckon that you’d be hard pressed to find anyone who actually finds it to be a pleasant experience.

At the Kuala Lumpur airport, it was so oppressively humid when I stepped outside that it felt like someone had smothered my face with a hot, wet towel. It was the kind of weather that put my entire being into a stupor. Just breathing caused me to break out in sweat. As a result, I spent much of my time in Malaysia doing very little but eating quite a lot as Indhu’s grandparents made excellent Indian food.

Highlights of the trip included:

• seeing fireflies at night by small boat outside of the city
• having dinner and catching up with Hani, a good friend of mine from high school whom I hadn’t seen in over five years
• exploring KL and eating great vegetarian food
• going up the KL Tower
• visiting a temple set within a cave
• watching a terrible Malaysian film during which Lin fell asleep because it was so bad
• spending time with Indhu’s grandparents whom I call Grandma and Grandpa.

Grandpa was our chauffeur for much of the week and his driving is nothing I’d ever seen. At the hearty age of 80+ years, he drove like a maniac with the aggressiveness and impatience of a sixteen year old. The most frequent phrase I heard while sitting in the backseat was, “C’mon lady, make a move!” before the tires would squeal and our vehicle would swerve violently around the vehicle ahead of us. I finally had to learn to stop looking out the front window and just prayed that we got to wherever we had to go in one piece. But it sure made KL ever the more exciting place to be.

Next (and final) stop – Singapore!

Trekking in Chiang Dao - Day 2 & 3

After a night of interrupted sleep from crowing roosters and a snoring volume of inhuman magnitude of one who shall remain anonymous, we packed up our things, ate a filling breakfast, and set out for another day of hiking through the mountains.

After an hour or two of hiking through the steep mountain side, we took a break for hot tea and listened to Thai men converse animatedly with each other.

We then explored another cave and paid a short visit to a monk who lives there with his many cats.

Afterwards, our guides prepared a delicious lunch. Instead of carrying bowls and utensils with them, the guides cut bamboo stalks from which they fashioned sturdy bowls and chopsticks for us to use.

In the afternoon, while taking another brief rest, Giles convinced me to engage in some “martial art” choreography with our bamboo walking canes. It was all fun and games until someone (i.e. me) got whacked over the head with a stick. Ouch.

By late afternoon, we hiked to the village where we were to eat dinner and spend the night. Upon setting our bags down in our hut, we walked around to familiarize ourselves with the place and meet some of the villagers.

As we passed by a group of villagers, one of them called out to me. “Hi, my name is Joe.* What’s your name?”

*Not his real name (because I don’t remember what it really is).

Me: “Hi, I’m Christina.”

Joe: “Are you Mary?”

Me: “Um, no. I’m Christina.”

Joe: “Are you Mary?”

Me (really puzzled): “Am I Mary? No… I said I’m… Oh! Am I married? No, I’m not married. (Awkward pause). Are you married?”

Joe: “No.” (intense stare)

Me: “Oh ok. Well, see you later!”

Later that night, after dinner as we were all sitting around the bonfire, I watched our guide Ah-Mi and Joe engaged in what appeared to be a very serious discussion. Finally, Giles asked Ah-Mi what they were talking about.

“Oh, we’re talking about marriage,” Ah-Mi replied with a smirk. Then he asks me, “How old are you?”

When I told him, he gave this look that I interpreted as “What, that old and not married off yet? Must be damaged goods.”

He turned to Joe and said something in Thai. I looked at Joe. He looked at me. I averted eye contact and then stared blankly at the fire. This continued for a while. I tolerated so much awkwardness before I eventually stood up and retired into my hut for the night.

Joe is the dashing male on the right

And what a miserably cold night it turned out to be. I found it impossible to stay warm in my thin sleeping bag despite wearing all the clothes I brought with me plus Henry’s vest. In addition to the cold, all through the night, Henry kept digging into his bag – which was right next to my head – like a squirrel scavenging for nuts in a pile of dead leaves. He claimed the next morning that he was looking for an extra layer to put on but somehow couldn’t find it in the first six attempts.

At one point in the night, I sat up for no good reason. Realizing what I had done, I laid back down and in the process of doing so, I reached out to locate my pillow but found Charlotte’s head instead. Still groggy, I didn’t recognize what it was right away. So for a good ten seconds, I groped Charlotte’s face, confused as to why my pillow was no longer soft and cushiony. Yep, that made some awkward conversation in the morning.

Following breakfast and before we set off again, Joe came by with a plastic bag of hand woven clothes and bags. He said they were made by his sister. Out of guilt, I offered to look at his wares. He sat and watched as I feigned interest in each item I pulled out. In the end, I bought the cheapest thing there was – a small, purple shoulder bag. I felt like I was buying myself out of a marriage deal. (This special bag has since been sent to a very lucky person for her belated birthday.)

We were told by the guides that our third day was to be the easiest – a short walk to a pick-up point followed by an elephant ride and bamboo rafting. But that “short walk” turned out to be a forty-five minute uphill steep climb. My body was both burning from exertion and drenched in cold sweat. If I hadn’t had Henry to talk to on the hike to distract me, I probably would have wanted to give up.

We arrived at our end point a little early and the guides built a fire to keep us warm while we waited to be picked up. When the truck came, we said our farewells to Ah-Mi and headed back to tour headquarters where we met our third and final guide.

At headquarters, while we were lounging in chairs on the lawn and rubbing our sore feet, our guide he came over to my chair and introduced himself.

Guide (in one breath): “Hi I’m Eddie your guide are you married?”

These Thai men wasted no time beating around the bush. Great, I thought, What do I have to buy this time? Although a bit odd, Eddie was mostly harmless, but best of all, I didn’t have to use my wallet to bribe my way out of a marriage proposition!

With the exception of another long walk, the rest of the day was relaxing as promised. We rode elephants (it was very bumpy... you can check out a video of it here) and then glided on rafts on a small waterway. Sitting on the raft and looking at the beautiful scenery was the most peaceful I had felt in a long time and a wonderful way to conclude our trek.


The tour company dropped us back at our hotel in Chiang Mai where we all spent our last night together. The next morning we all parted ways and I headed off to Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia to join Indhu, her grandparents, and Lin.