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There’s a moral to this story: Better a crab than an ass.

22 Jul

It’s been hotter than a warlock’s balls this week, and the forecast tells us Saturday will be even worse: 103 without the heat index (120 with it!). Know what that means? I’ll spend a fair portion of the weekend standing in Alan’s pool, reading a book.

Yes, you heard me right. I’ll be standing in the water reading a book. Kind of like how hippos stay in the water with only their eyes and nostrils out when it’s really hot.

The thing is, I’m not the only person that does this. MULTIPLE people who live in Alan’s community do the same thing — in fact, I learned this trick from them. Somehow, it has become “normal” to me in the past year, and I didn’t think anything of it, until Margaret came out the other weekend. (Remember Margaret? The Red Baron?)

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Stream of Consciousness: Hello, Dalai!

13 Jul

Strange bedfellows? Not if you can read the dialogue.

The Dalai Lama visited DC last week. I know because my yoga studio sent out an email encouraging me to attend his peace rally on the Mall.

And because the Whole Foods was teeming with people wearing saffron robes and sporting shaved heads Thursday night. Apparently — and don’t spread this around — Buddhists like to… Eat. Normal. Food.

Stop looking at me like that! I hadn’t given it much thought, but when I saw a couple of monks debating between bean burritos and a five layer dip, it struck me as odd. And then I forced myself to articulate what I thought their diet consisted of, and I could only come up with “grains.”

Woof. I am showing you my underbelly of ignorance here, people! This is me, trusting YOU.

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This bodes well for my stage debut on SNL, if there’s a prat fall in the script.

5 Jul

My office has an open environment, where we all have cubes instead of doors. It’s generally a fine set-up, unless you need privacy or your colleagues get a bit rowdy. Fortunately, I have a wireless ear piece, so if it gets noisy, I can generally grab my laptop and find a conference room without interrupting the call.

Last week we had network issues, which does to office workers what too much sugar does to infants: it causes melt-downs. My cube-mate (by which I mean: the woman on the other side of my cube, with whom I negotiate when I feel it’s necessary to fire up my space heater, and who, for the record, is awesome) expresses her frustration by pounding on her desk and hissing the F-word under her breath.

Like a rheumatic joint that predicts a storm, I can gauge our network speed by the way she’s pounding her desk on any given day. Thursday she was practically playing the bongos. “I think someone replaced my cord!” she said.

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A different kind of panic.

20 Jun

To be sure, there are many situations that would cause a rural person to panic: a run on Velveeta at the grocery store, rationing of Budweiser, code inspectors, a NASCAR drivers’ strike…

Oh wait, I said rural, not redneck. Nevermind. (And quick – let’s give my Facebook friends their contributing editor credit for coming up with those examples before you lynch me!)

Redneck or Rural, whatever the case, these people are safe from the type of panic that over-took me tonight… A panic that only occurs in a city… A panic that can only come from not being able to find your car.

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Rapture: What a let-down.

21 May

Damn. I have to say, the Rapture was a huge disappointment.

Not that I had any expectations of being Raptured (since I’m both a skeptic and a sinner), but I was seriously hoping that some of the goody-goody-judgmental-holier-than-thou types would disappear. I guess it’s safe to say: we’re all disappointed.

I’d like to interview someone who fully expected to be Raptured today. Here’s what I imagine it sounding like:

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