Archive | January, 2011

Where the strangers are friendly… and pogo sticks are helpful?

13 Jan

Today my work brought me from Chicago up to Milwaukee. I’ve been here two other times, and each time, it has left me wanting.

Not because there’s anything inherently wrong with Milwaukee, it’s just that I expect to see two people (specifically Laverne & Shirley) dancing down the streets on their way to work at a bottling plant. And it hasn’t happened. Yet. (I remain hopeful.)

This morning I was debating between the 6am or 8:30am train from Union Station in Chicago. I harkened back to my last visit, and remembered the odd desolation of Union Station at 6am. I arrived at 5:30am and the place was DESERTED until 5:55. If memory serves, I went so far as to take off my belt in case I needed to clock someone in the head with the buckle.

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Timing is everything.

12 Jan

Tonight I was talking on the phone with a friend when I suddenly remembered that I only had a 10% charge remaining at the start of the conversation, which had been about 30 minutes earlier.

“Hey,” I interrupted him, “If my phone cuts out during this call, it’s because my battery died!”

SILENCE.

“Brian? Are you there?”

SILENCE

I pulled my phone out of my pocket to see if he was exercising good comedic timing or if my phone had actually chosen that moment to die.

Someone has a sense of humor.

 

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Tip: Until you’ve mastered the language, try a thesaurus.

11 Jan

I’m as guilty as the next girl of cursing like a sailor. But I’d like to think I generally maintain awareness of my surroundings and tailor my language to my audience. (My parents might disagree.)

This morning in National Airport I had the joy of sitting next to two women in their early 30s who clearly thought they were hot shit (despite wearing sweatpants in public) and wanted to broadcast their badness to the world at large.

It was odd because – aside from their poor fashion – they seemed like reasonably intelligent, articulate women. Until they fired up the profanity.

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Review: When fiction jumps the shark.

8 Jan

Because my mantra is generally, “So many books, so little time,” I’ve found audiobooks are a great way to sneak an extra book in during the course of the month. So when we packed for Michigan, I hit the library and grabbed, “The Art of Racing in the Rain,” to entertain us on the drive.

About 30 minutes into it, I lost Alan. In part because his CD player was trying to eat the disc and the stress of its skipping tracks irritated him, but mainly because the narrator of the story is a dog.

Yes, you heard me: a dog.

It’s far-fetched, but I thought it was a fun and clever device… especially enjoyable for dog-lovers who would like to believe their pets are capable of complex thought and motivation akin to a human’s.

So I lost Alan but continued listening to the book after returning to DC. I just finished it this week, and would’ve given it a pretty positive review, had it not jumped the shark in the final chapters.

SPOILER ALERT: If you haven’t read this book and are planning to, then stop reading this because I’m about to give away a major plot twist.

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You have to be smarter than the lies you tell.

5 Jan

Like pretty much everyone I know, I hate going to the dentist (even for routine cleanings) because I know I’m going to get lectured about my flossing habits. Or lack thereof.

Other than my sister, I don’t know anyone who flosses daily. And I think even my sister would admit that the only way she’s able to work it in is by standing in the middle of the living room, carrying on a full conversation with her hands and a foot of floss in her mouth at the end of the night.

Her teeth might be grateful, but I’m pretty sure her audience has a different take on it.

Anyway… to deflect some of the lectures, I’ve gotten into a habit of bending the truth a bit when I’m at the dentist. I’ve found that if you don’t fully own up to not flossing very regularly, the hygienist will provide you with a plausible alternative excuse.

To wit – about a year ago the conversation went something like this:

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