Rain Dance

Dan: might thunderstorm tomorrow... might be a pain the arse
Me: i know
Me: that will sucko big timo
Dan: yeah.. 0
Me: but then we can have a wet tee shirt contest
Dan: .. .okay
Dan: or a no shirt contest
Me: hahahhha

Rockin' Good Time

There's nothing like a good rock show. I've been to many-a-show in my day, ranging from stadiums, to clubs, to the YMCA, to basements. I don't prefer to go to stadium shows anymore; I don't think it's worth the money (although I do plan to see NIN this fall). But I do frequent smaller venues like D.C.'s 9:30 Club, Baltimore's Ottobar, and (coming soon!!) New York's Irving Plaza. Shows at venues such as these are affordable, intimate (well...as intimate as a punk show can be), and fun.
But as I get older, I find that my desire to be down in front of the stage, close enough to see nose hairs, has faded. Kids these days are rough! I've been caught in "mosh pits" (this term is a thing of the past), and at a younger age, it was fine. But now I fear that I'll get punched in the face, break an arm, or lose my glasses...nerdy? No...just 25. I prefer to be in the balcony, where I can see all the action from a story up. I'm still close to the band, but the acoustics are better and I don't have to worry about getting a bloody lip.
As I stood on the upper left balcony of the 9:30 Club last night watching Alkaline Trio rock out "97", I watched the crowd below push and jump with excitement. "That used to be me", I thought. "Maybe I'll go down...". Nahhh... my back hurts.

Here Kitty Kitty

Once again, if this is what I have to look forward to as a swinging single in New York, than I am S.O.L.!!

First you should know that I am mature,-- it’s been for a good long time, works for the times, but is void of passion. I am not looking for a fast pounce. It’s hot here on the savannah, and as I get a brief moment in the shade of the acacia, I contemplate a proud female unbridled by the strict regimen of human society. About me: From paws to haunches I’m a little above average height, no taller. My spots are symmetrical and nice, and eyes clear. I’ve got half-grown cubs, and daily licking, nudging, and training for the hunt are priority one. I hunt hard, but play to the point where I’m fairly well toned, as a cheetah should be, and I outrun almost every other cat my age. But I’m not a foolish flaunter, not a savvy player, just a cool cat, and humble; the savannah does this to you, and I love it. I love the earth, and love the wind when I sprint at top speed. I seek a nicely spotted, sleek (chubby and cheetah don’t mix), whimsical female feline for frequent but discreet rendezvous in the shade and sun. The giraffes won’t mind. I know paws and claws aren’t made for keyboards but try me… if you find positive fun in this ad, you’ll find the same in me. Pic ready on disk but let's have some chats first.

Jerkalomania

As I stated in a previous post, Friendster is nothing more than a glorified singles website. So, I searched out some attractive single mens in the D.C./Balto area, and once again, found that the only way I'm going to meet someone is through a friend.
I messaged two different guys- one of whom was actually nice in his response, but I'm not really interested. The other guy, however, lost his hotness in his completely DICK response. In his profile, he had listed under "interests"- megalomania. Now, I may have a Masters degree, but I don't know what that word means. Does that mean I'm stupid? Evidently. So, I messaged him, asking what it meant, and his reponse to me was "you should know that dictionary.com is just a few clicks away...". Uh..WHA? Excuse me? Do you KNOW who you are talking to? I happen to be absolutely fabulous!
So, rather than appease him with some witty response, I had my fellow friendsters send him messages asking what megalomania means, or better yet (George), asking what the URL for dictionary.com is. Hilarious!
Turns out he's an even bigger dick, as he came off just as arrogant to all of them.
So maybe I'm not stupid after all...well, sort of stupid for thinking I could find someone cool to talk to who is into "vodka benders and megalomania."

Down the Shore

Back from Avalon, New Jersey, and not loving it. I had one of the best weekends of the year, and am def. not pumped to be back in Bawl'mer. But, that's what makes vacations great- just when you don't think it could get any better, it's time to leave. Too much of a good thing is a waste.
Anyway, I had a '6 girls and 6 gays' themed weekend, sharing the gorgeous house of one Mr. Tom Smith. Tom's family's beach house sits on the bay, and comes fully equipped with boats in the dock slips, wrap-around decks, 13 beds, and an amazing view. Pretty much awesome.
We arrived Friday night and immediately launched into vacation mode (i.e. no calories count). We had pizza and beer, played many a drinking game, and because we're all not 21 anymore, were in bed by 12:30. The next day we woke up to incredible blue skies and sun, and spent the day waterskiing, swimming in the ocean, boating it, having amazing homemade ice cream, going out to dinner with Jonathan Prin, and once again finishing off the day with drinking. On Sunday, we went tubing in the boat, beached it again, more ice cream, swimming and canoeing in the bay, and a great homemade dinner before heading back to Balto. All in all, I couldn't have asked for anything more. Great friends, food, weather, and good times.
Some highlights of the trip:

- Tubing. First time I did it, and it was blast. Tom drove the boat in a figure 8 pattern, and I nearly peed myself. Fear is fun!
- Attempting to waterski. I couldn't get up on the skis to save my life, but it was fun trying. Also, I swallowed a lot of bay water...that wasn't so fun.
- Being on a private beach, and swimming in the ocean. 'Nuff said.
- Springer's ice cream shop. Some of the best I've had...and I know my ice cream.
- Having dinner with Jonathan and his friend Lou. Jonathan and I went to middle school together, but we hadn't seen each other in years! It was fun catching up and re-hashing Hanover memories. Jonathan is now an investment banker on Wall St. His next project is finding me a sugar daddy once I get to New York.
- Sleeping in bunk beds with Robert, Terry, and George. We laughed ourselves into our drunken slumber every night- it was hilarious.
- Trying to balance sitting on one end of a floating surf board, with Terry on the other end. Ultimately, we fell off every time, and Gail said it looked like "2 naked people wrestling". I guess you had to be there.
- Sunsets- unreal.


Besides the horrible tomato effect I have going with this sunburn, it was wonderful. Thanks, Tom!

Pick it Up

Pick up your feet when you walk. It really doesn't take that much effort- I promise! But please pick up your feet when you walk...dragging them is really annoying.

It is Useless to Resist Us

This morning, while on our daily shuttle commute to work, a cop car whizzed past the bus, and the scanner was so loud it was audible to us on the bus. Robert looked at me and said "It is useless to resist us", to which I immediately provided the back beat for the Information Society song "Walking Away", from their self-titled 1988 release. Robert smiled and said "I'm glad you caught that reference." Of course I did! Just like the time I caught his Manheim Steamroller reference. We were having coffee at City Cafe, around Christmastime, and some Manheim Steamroller version of a Christmas carol came on the radio. Robert said "I will eat out the first person who can name this band." Without missing a beat, I said "Manheim Steamroller." It seems I'm still waiting on his proposal....and now, with this Information Society reference, it's gonna be a busy weekend at the beach!

Justify My Thug

I think I have a little crush on Jay-Z. I've been listening to the Black album (it's on rotation on the ol' I-Pizzle), and I have developed a small crush! Now, much like my other recording-star crushes, it's not like he has full sleeve tattoos (a la Chris Carrabba), or a gorgeous face (a la Brandon Boyd) or a bangin' bod (a la Lenny Kravitz). But the album is really good, and this is coming from someone whose hip-hop collection includes the Beastie Boys, The Roots, and a Tribe Called Quest album I no longer possess because someone stole it from me back in college.
I'm not sure exactly what it is that makes him crush-worthy. But I think that part of it is the fact that is he is not a crappy Southern rapper (thanks to Nakia for schooling me the ways of bad and good rap), and his voice isn't all thuggish and ruggish. You can understand what he's saying, the beats are cool, and he's not talking about how/who he wants to bone.
Whatever it is, I'm no Beyonce, so I don't think Mr. Z and I will be getting together any time soon, but I sure do like his record.

Sugar Shock

Someone from my floor has brought in a FIVE POUND Hershey bar!!!!!!!! (avec knife so you can cut off your desired amount.) HELLO!! Obesity is the number one killer in America! I'm not even gonna lie....I cut off a bite.

Pedicure

I hate walking around the city in summer footware. I am flat-footed, so I don't have arches. Arch-less footed people shouldn't wear flip-flops. But I do. And I wear other non-supportive sandals. Why? Because I'm barely 5'3", and wearing a tennis shoe or other bulky lace-up makes me look even shorter...and that's no good. All in the name of fashion, I say, but my feet look as though they got stuck in a lawn mower. It's awful! I have about 17 different Band-Aids per foot, and carry Neosporin in my purse. And pedicures ain't cheap. I know once I move to New York, open-toed footware will be less of an option. I remember once last summer, I arrived in New York wearing flip-flops, and promptly changed into my black Diesels when Wren and I went out for coffee/dinner. There is no telling what has been drug across a subway train's floor. Unless I'm wearing some strappy, hot dress sandal, open-toed shoes will be a beach-only (or shower-only in the gym!) in NYC.
As for now, I just deal with the pain, but reluctantly. Yesterday, as I was walking the 5 blocks to my hair salon, the Band-Aid mending my newest blister kept sliding down the side of my foot. I had to stop every half a block, cursing, and adjust the bandage. Will I ever learn? Probably not.

Singles Bar

"How are you supposed to meet anyone in this town?", Robert asked me last night. "Good question", I said. "The only way you can meet someone worthwhile is through friends, or through co-workers. That's about it."
Robert and I are both faithful Friendsters, as are most of our other friends, and we SAY that Friendster is a good way to network. You can meet up with old friends/classmates, and see what's new. And I must say, I have re-connected with some former colleagues. But for the most part, Friendster is nothing more than a free singles site. Sure, some people have "relationship" status checked, but the rest of us are cruising- simple as that. I have a few good friends who have found cool people to date/make out with/marry via the internet. In fact, most of my gay friends have 100 more friends on their lists than I do because of internet rendez-vous(es?). Robert and Terry receive random Friendster messages often; some from creepy no-way-in-hell guys, and some from cute, totally-a-possibility guys.
So Robert suggested I cruise Friendster, searching out friends-of-friends (i.e. 2 degrees of separation.) Well, I did, and all I came up with were the 7 single guys I know from my former school, none of whom (no offence if any read this!) I have an interest. So much for that.
I think I'll just stick with "Hilary...I have a friend you should meet..." for now.

Wal-marts

One day, in line at the company cafeteria, Joe says to Mike, "My elbow     
hurts like hell. I guess I better see a doctor."                           
"Listen, you don't have to spend that kind of money," Mike replies.       
"There's a diagnostic computer down at Walmart.                             
Just give it a urine sample and the computer will tell you what's wrong    
and what to do about it. It takes ten seconds and costs ten dollars. It's  
a lot cheaper than a doctor."                                              
So Joe deposits a urine sample in a small jar and takes it to Walmart. He
deposits ten dollars and the computer lights up and asks for the urine     
sample. He pours the sample into the slot and waits. Ten seconds later,    
the computer ejects a printout:                                            
"You have tennis elbow.                                                    
Soak your arm in warm water and avoid heavy activity. It will improve In   
two weeks. Thank you for shopping at Walmart."                              
 That evening while thinking how amazing this new technology was, Joe      
Began wondering if the computer could be fooled. He mixed some tap water,  
a stool sample from his dog, urine samples from his wife and Daughter, and
a sperm sample for good measure.Joe hurries back to Walmart, eager to      
check the results. He deposits Ten dollars, pours in his concoction and    
awaits the results.                                                        
The computer prints the following:                                         
1. Your tap water is too hard. Get a water softener. (Aisle 9)             
2. Your dog has ringworm. Bathe him with anti-fungal shampoo.  (Aisle 7)   
3. Your daughter has a cocaine habit. Get her into rehab.                   
4. Your wife is pregnant with twins. They aren't yours. Get a lawyer.      
5. If you don't stop playing with yourself, your elbow will never get      
better.                                                                    
Thank you for shopping at Walmart.                             

Chatterbox

I have a hard time with silence...especially awkward silences. I always feel the need the fill in the blanks with conversation. And don't even get me started on phone silence- that's the worst!
Yesterday, while talking to an orchestra musician from my show, I felt the need to blurt out "Jason (fake name) says hello by the way...yeah..he says hi." Now, "Jason" said nothing of the sort, but I felt I was floundering for conversation, and I wasn't diggin the I'll-just-stare-at-you-for-5-minutes vibe I was getting from the guy, so I made up Jason's greetings. Why? Why couldn't I have just said "Well, it was nice talking (or not talking) to you..gotta go!" Because somehow, bringing "Jason" into the conversation offered a tangent. Or so I thought. Instead the guy was like "Oh..cool." Silence. More silence. Enter me saying "OK...gotta say goodbye to some other people." Followed by awkward hug.

C'est tout

My show is over...back to life...back to reality. I hadn't thought about it this way, but I was really working 2 full time jobs. I worked here, at my day job, and then drove to D.C. and worked my "real job." Although performing doesn't really feel like work, because it's what I was put here to do. So it sort of feels like an after school activity- execpt it's paying my rent.
I had a lot of cast mates ask me "What show are you doing next?". And to them I said "Good question!" I have no idea. I have no other paid singing gigs on the books right now. And that's when the "real job" sucks, and becomes work again.
But that's the life of an artist...

In Order

Headphones+desk job= make the day go by faster. As I sit here listening to Blue Monday, by New Order, I am reminded of a funny story, involving this song.
At the conclusion of my sophomore year at WVU, the University's "Spring Fling" featured a line-up of somewhat popular bands, including Orgy. If you will remember, Orgy become popular by covering the song Blue Monday, originally by New Order.
Prior to the actual concert, there were tents set up around the stage, with food and crafts and games- basically things that kept the under-21 crowd busy. As my friends and I were cruising the tents, we noticed the members of Orgy walking around, taking photo ops and attempting to blend in with the crowd. As the lead singer passed by me, I said "How does it feel....to steal a New Order song!" I didn't think he heard me, but I was sorely mistaken as he looked right at me, and laughed. At least he got a chuckle out of it....and didn't seem to remember when he saw me at a frat party later that night.

Can't Complain

I am getting paid to attend a Baltimore Symphony dress rehearsal on Thursday morning. Yes, as part of my job, I am overseeing the medical students attending the dress. (How they got the chance to attend is a completely different story.) So, instead of coming into work at the office that day, I'll be chillin at the Meyerhoff, having lunch with the composer and conductor- and getting paid for it.

I'll also be getting paid to have an office crab lunch, and an office summer party. Do I wish I made more money? Yes. But God I'll miss this job when I move...

Holla!

Tooting my own horn:




Cendrillon': The Slipper Fits Just Fine

By Cecelia Porter
Special to The Washington Post
Tuesday, June 14, 2005; Page C07


An important part of Washington's burgeoning opera scene, the Summer Opera Theatre Company opened its two-month season Sunday with the spectacular premiere of its updated "Cendrillon," the Cinderella story set by Jules Massenet. Deriving his Cinderella from Charles Perrault's classic, Massenet's librettist, Henri Cain, kept to a rather straight account of the fairy tale: Reduced to menial servanthood by her wicked stepmother and bossy stepsisters, Cinderella wins the ultimate makeover when transformed into a lavishly attired princess by her angelic fairy godmother and eventually wins her Prince Charming.

Massenet gives his all's-well-that-ends-well story a twist, casting it as a comedy of the absurd, gently mocking the magical events with scenes of rudely intruding reality, yet keeping Cinderella's plight dead serious. Summer Opera took it further by transferring the French belle époque setting to present-day Washington, with Pandolfe (Cinderella's father) recast as a diplomat and Prince Charming transformed into the president's son



David Grindle's smartly timed staging underlined the comical aspects of the production, which is at Catholic University's Hartke Theatre; all characters are kept busily involved in the story's ridiculous machinations and make-believe episodes. Soloists and chorus members deserve high marks for persuasive acting. H. Teri Murai led the excellent orchestra (with a terrific English horn player) at a tempo highlighting Massenet's often lush, inventive melodies. Christopher Ash's sets emphasized the opera's sparkling comic action with brilliant reds and oranges balancing brightly contrasting costumes, and Donald Edmund Thomas contrived clever lighting effects.

In the title role, Maureen Francis sang with fresh radiance. Rolando-Michael Sanz wooed Cinderella with a marvelous tenor, luminous and amply rounded. Baritone Eugene Galvin portrayed the henpecked Pandolfe with dramatic vigor. Laura Zuiderveen was a believably haughty stepmother with a generous sonority to match. Jennifer Jellings and Kristin Green suited their stereotyped stepsister images to a T with voices of broad scope and a fluidity edged with shrewish cackles. Hilary Ryon managed her fairy godmother role with sparkling Queen-of-the-Night coloratura. Brian Cali was a commanding president. The chorus handled its prominent role with precise ensembles and skillfully humorous byplay.

Performed in French with English surtitles, "Cendrillon" continues tomorrow, Friday and Sunday. Verdi's "Rigoletto" follows in July.

Hot to Trot

I just got home from my Saturday night run through gorgeous. Perhaps this will become my new summer thing...running in Guilford on Saturday nights. It's great- there is no traffic, and everyone is out of town, so really, no people.
Anyway, it was (and still is) quite humid today. Even after sunset, the thick air lingers and creates a haze and much sweating. Half-way through my run, I was dripping wet, so I decided to take my shirt off and finish my run in my sports bra. IN MY SPORTS BRA! Now for some, that might not seem strange or daring or freeing, but for me it was all of those things. If you don't know, I used to be 30 lbs heavier than I am now, so my torso never saw the light of day (or dusk, in this case.) The closest I have ever come to wearing a bikini was last summer when Dan and I stripped down to our underwear on the 4th of July (after the horrifying harbor fireworks), and cooled off in the pool. That was after we drunkenly jumped the locked gate to the pool....but before we got caught by the sercurity guard and thrown out. Nonetheless, bra and undies night swimming is about as skin-bearing as I get. So for me to run in my sports bra and shorts is really something. Granted, I wasn't jogging through the crowds of tourists at the Inner Harbor. The only people who saw my sweaty abs were in BMWs, and some pre-teen boys riding bikes.
So now that I know I can jog sans tee-shirt, I might do it more often. But only at dusk...and only through Guilford. Don't want to take on too much too soon. Look out for that snow-white torso!

Pillow Talk

Last night, after a loooong dress rehearsal, my sister spent the night at my place (she has a job interview in Bawlmer this morning.) I was really tired by the time I crawled into bed, but there is something about sleeping in the same room, or bed for that matter, with a sibling, that brings out the slumber party in ya.
My sister and I grew up in an old house that is not equipped with central air. So, my parents have a large window unit in the dining room, and when we were kids, put an air conditioner in my room, and one my brother's. So on really hot nights, my sister slept in my room. We never went to sleep when we were supposed to- we laughed, told jokes, acted stupid- the typical slumber party-type things. But we also came up with our own game, sure to send us into hysterical laughter, called the "Fart Game." The Fart Game, or "F.G." as well called it, was an excuse to make fake bodily function noises, using our arms and hands as instruments. The first one to laugh lost, and it was her turn to put forearm to mouth. We played this game every night, and cried ourselves to sleep laughing- or at least until my mother opened the door and told us to quit it. We eventually introduced the game to my brother, and to this day, we'll play a round of the "F.G." after Thanksgiving dinner or a 4th of July picnic. Pretty gross...but also pretty damn hilarious.
I love the no holds barred relationship I have with my siblings. I love it so much, that I didn't even care when last night, my GASSY sister attempted to Dutch Oven me as we were going to sleep. Well..maybe I cared a little...but I mostly just laughed.

Cross-Overs

We all know Charlotte Church is a joke, but here is more proof.

(Taken from Pink is the new blog.)

Charlotte said she was finding the world of pop music a bit easier than her classical roots. "It's a lot easier on my voice than when I was doing classical. That's pretty hard stuff.' She admitted early morning starts were still difficult, but denied she was a real party animal.

AND

"I did a massive classical thing in Hyde Park once with 75,000 people,' said Charlotte. 'I was with Pavarotti. He was horrible,really nasty. He was a pig and I was supposed to do a duet with him.'Charlotte explained that Pavarotti was rude to her about the way she wanted to sing a song.

Things that make you go hmmmmmmmm....

Ah HA!

Well folks, I am not making this up. According to a recent survey, Massachusetts, New York, New Jersey, and the District of Columbia were just ahead of Rhode Island with the lowest scores in the nation (in passing a driver's test).

Some other fun driving facts!

*Half of Americans report that they do not know how to merge into heavy traffic.
*60 percent of Americans say that they change lanes on a highway without using their turn signal.
*One-third of Americans have packed their car so tightly that their vision was obstructed.
*17 percent of Americans have driven without a rear view or driver's side mirror.


So put THAT in your pipe and smoke it, road rage accusers! (Notice that Pennsylvania, MY home state, is not on the list.)

Classy Gait

I just got home from a 3 mile run through Guilford, Baltimore's nicest city neighborhood. The Guilford/Roland Park area of the city is GORgeous....old, fabulously huge homes on tree-lined streets and manicured lawns boasting beautiful flowers, shrubs, trees, and gazebos. It's really wonderful, and situated just north of the Johns Hopkins Homewood campus.

One of my favorite things to do during the summer in Baltimore is go running through this area. I wait until it's dusk, otherwise it's too damn hot, when the sun is setting and (in late May/early June), the air is cool. There is no traffic or stop lights, so I run along the side of the road- sometimes down the middle. I love to imagine myself living in a house like those I see...but I'd have to marry rich...and own a lexus. Right now I live in an apartment and drive a '95 Grand Am. At any rate....while I was running, I remembered that last year at this time, the cicadas were here. And wow were they ever. Those bugs were all over the joint. I had to dodge them like bullets when running, and sometimes they ran into me. Ew. They were all over the roads and sidewalks, and the remained in full effect for a good month. Yikes! Luckily, I wasn't battling any flying raisins tonight. Just enjoying the lovely weather, gorgeous backdrop, and pleasure of my own company.

Rizzle in tha hizzay

According to gizoogle.com, this is my bio- holla!


Originally from Nigga PA, Hilary is a recent graduate of Peabody Institute, where she sizzang tha role of Blonde in Die Entfürung aus dem Serail, n was a cizzast motherfucka of Nothin’ but George, a showcase of George Gershwin songs . Ya fuck with us, we gots to fuck you up. Ms in tha mutha fuckin club. Rizzle has appeared wit tha Washington Summa Opera, sing'n tha roles of Nella in Gianni Schicchi, Ms. Crazy Ass Nigga in The Impressario, n Cercatrice in Sour Angelica. Ms n shit. Ryon has done solo concert wiznork wit tha Annapolis Opera cuz I put gangsta rap on tha map. Brotha roles include Susanna in Le nozze di Figaro, Queen of tha Night in Die Zauberflöte, Adina in L’Elisir d’Amore, n Elsie in The Yeoman of tha Guard (West Virginia University Opera Theata). In July 2000, Ms ta help you tap dat ass. Rizzle sang tha rizzy of Barbarina in Figaro’s Hochzeit wit tha Austrian American Mozart Academy in Salzburg, Austria. Upcom'n engagements include tha rizzy of tha Fairy Godmotha in Massenet’s Cendrillon wit Washington Summa Opera ya dig?.

Rainy Day Dribble

It's crappy outside. If it had been beautiful for 3 solid weeks with ONE day of crappiness, I'd welcome it. I do like the rain on occasion. But it's been crappy a lot lately, which makes me feel crappy on the crappy days. Crappy, crappy, crappy. Well, I guess I don't really feel crappy today...but I'm going to mention some (bitchy) things that annoy me that may illuminate me in a crappy light.
I have been driving back and forth to D.C. almost every day for the last 2 weeks, and I always seem to get caught in some sort of traffic scuffle. Doesn't matter what time I leave, I always get stuck. Orioles traffic, rush hour, road work, accidents- you name it, it happens. No wonder D.C. was recently named the 2nd worst city (behind L.A.) in America for traffic. I have taken the liberty of putting together a list of driving habits/styles/whatevers that annoy me. Now, some people might accuse me of having road rage- especially in the middle of an arguement that has NOTHING to do with driving- and I will admit, I am impatient. But, I think you will find that these problems annoy most everyone; not just me.
1. People who drive too fast- weaving in and out of traffic. Are you really in that much of a hurry?
2. People who drive too slow. OK...yes the traffic is moving at a crawl, but please don't put 50 ft between you and the car in front of you.
3. People who refuse to break when approaching a traffic light, and coast along, going 1 MPH. This causes others to miss the light, and is just, in general, really annoying.
4. Perpetual breakers. Stop riding the break! Especially when there is no one in front of you!
5. Tailgating. This is number one for me. I hate it more than anything.
6. Tractor trailers driving at high speeds. Slow down, trucks! You shouldn't be passing me in the left lane doing 80.
7. Mercurys- I call them fake Lincoln Continentals.
8. People who wait until the last possible minute to merge. Honestly, do you really think you are getting that much farther ahead by driving on the shoulder, just to merge 2 cars ahead? Chill.

That's all I can think of for now, but I'm sure there is more! I can't wait until I live in a city with a reliable public transportation system.

BBQ Tips

From The Onion:


When barbecuing veggie burgers, be sure to tie your long hair back. That will keep it away from the flames, you stupid hippie.

Furry Ball

There's nothin like a hampster in a ball to brighten your day. In my department (neuroscience), the lab "mascot" is a cute tan and white hampster, named Furry. Furry is getting a little fat, so his owners have decided to make him exercise by putting him in a little yellow ball and releasing him on the floor. He rolls around to different cubicles, and bangs into walls. Apparently, Furry has even rolled onto the elevator and has been MIA for several hours. But, thanks to the name and identification information now written on the yellow ball, he is always returned home. Seeing a yellow ball roll by out of the corner of my eye makes me laugh. Especially when there is cage bedding stuck to Furry's butt.