;AKLSJDLKJA;SLJ;'KLJAKLLKASDFHSJDFHKJSH

That's me being SO FUCKING FRUSTRATED that I could just scream. And I did..just 15 minutes ago in the supermarket parking lot. These past few days have been HELL in terms of going to any store or shop. No one is working this week, except for those in retail, so that means EVERYONE is out shopping. Irritation station central. No one can drive, park, or walk without being annoying to me. Wow. I sound really mean. But it's true. Stupidly, I did not plan a menu for this week, since Ashley will be gone all weekend. So I've had to make several painful trips to the store (and you all know how much I love going grocery shopping), and each time, I've nearly murdered someone in the parking lot.
I feel like I'm going through menopause. Either that or going crazy. Hell, they are almost the same thing.

The Sound of Silence

I am the only person currently in my office. No one else is here. Why did I even show up? I could be at home, still sleeping in my nice, lux new bedding and my comfy, soft flannel sheets. But no. I am here...doing absoutely nothing. Alone.

Resolution Smesolution

I'm never one to make New Year's resolutions because I'll always break them. One year I vowed that I would be more up front, but remained a doormat while I silently complained. So, not breaking with tradition, I'm not making any resoultions. But I have decided that 2006 will be my "Nothing to lose" year. That's right. I'm going for it- whatever 'it' is at the time. I'm doing any and all auditions I can, applying for any/all jobs until I find the best one for me, and talking to boys. Yes, talking to boys. Normally, I'm terrible with getting the ball rolling. But, since I have nothing to lose this year, except for maybe my dignity, I'm doin it. So bring it on.

Blurgh

Back at work. Boo. No one is here, and no one (robert, ashli) is online. At least I only have to work 3 days this week. Although I have zero motivation. Zero.
Tonight I'm having dinner with some old pals from WVU days. Should be a good time! I'm not sure how many people will show up, but I know I'll see some faces I haven't seen in 3 years.
I have nothing else to report, except that I am a fatass due to all the cookies I have consumed over the past few days. Cycling is gonna hurt this week.

Merry Christmas!

To one and all. I don't think I have any Jewish readers, but if I do, Happy Hannukah!
Today was one of the nicest Christmases I've had in a while. After a Loooonnnggg night of singing, and hardly any voice left, I slipped into my Tylenol PM-induced slumber and enjoyed a nice 9 hour winter's nap. I awoke this morning to the smell of quiche baking, and coffee perking. Yum.
We opened our gifts (one at a time, from youngest to oldest as our tradition stands), and I really got some great stuff. I do miss the pomp and circumstance that went along with Christmas morning as a child, but a cup of coffee and a plate of cookies does nicely.
The rest of my family took naps- I just watched Christmas movies on the Hallmark Channel, while playing with my new dog (pics to follow). Then we enjoyed a wonderful dinner, and are preparing to watch a movie.
My family might drive me crazy, but on this day every year, I embrace that insanity.

Reunion

Last night, I went out for beers with my ex-boyfriend from college, Alex. Alex and I are from the same hometown, but both ended up at WVU. We were trying to remember how we were ever introduced, as Alex spent his first year of college at Towson, and then transferred to West Virginia.
Anyway, we broke up yeeeears ago, but remain friends. And, as of late, remain pretty good friends! Last night felt like us in 1999, but 6 years later. We made fun of people, talked about Pittsburgh (and did the accent, Dan), and laughed at pretty much everything. It was really fun! We also made up stories about ourselves that we would tell those random high school classmates whom we did NOT want to see. I told Alex that he should say he's a painter, living in Spain, and this is his first time back to the States in 4 years. But don't ask him to speak Spanish- he's trying to brush up on his English.
My story was that I live in London, have 4 children (don't I look great?!?!), and am married to Andrew Lloyd Webber. Or Prince William. Yes, Prince William is MUCH hotter than Andrew Lloyd Webber.
I also ran into a whole host of old high school friends...people I actually wanted to see. It was great...we played catch-up, and I learned that not one, but TWO of my high school boyfriends are now married. Dammit.

Top 10

OK...here it is. My version of Top 10. To quote my friend Bucket, 'I'm not a hip British rock magazine or anything', but these are my favorite releases of 2005. And one of 2004. I have to admit, I haven't spent forever thinking about this list. So I might be forgetting about an album or 2, but this is what I got as of now. If you don't know the artists, consider this a recommendation. All of these albums kick ass.

10. Stars- Set Yourself on Fire
9. My Morning Jacket- Z
8. Bright Eyes- I'm Wide Awake, it's Morning
7. Nine Inch Nails- With Teeth
6. Beck- Guero
5. The Decemberists- Picaresque
4. LCD Soundsystem- LCD Soundsystem
3. Sufjan Stevens- C'mon Feel the Illinoise
2. (This is 2004, but it's so good I'm keeping it on here) The Arcade Fire- Funeral
1. Bloc Party- Silent Alarm

Gum on my Shoe

My co-workers were JUST talking about this song. And the Phat Phree has something to say about it. Wow. Harsh, but funny:

Okay here it is. This is the grandaddy of all miserable Christmas songs. This song is everything that’s wrong with American culture, and it’s popularity is a window into the simple collective national mind that made American Idol a number one show, Nascar the number two sport and elected our retarded President to a second term.
The song is about a boy at a department store on Christmas Eve who wants to buy some shoes for his mom, who is dying of cancer. However, he finds himself a bit shy on finances, so a bystander, caught up in the Christmas spirit, jumps in to save the day by making up the difference, thus allowing the kid to take some shoes home to his dying mother. This is the actual refrain from the song:


Sir I want to buy these shoes, for my Momma please,
It’s Christmas Eve and these shoes are just her size,
Could you hurry sir, Daddy says there’s not much time,
You see, she’s been sick for quite a while,
And I know these shoes would make her smile
I want her to look beautiful, if Momma meets Jesus tonight.

Omigod! I want to punch something again and again! How can people be deceived by this overwrought sentimental gibberish? Have you ever seen a more brazen and desperate attempt to force emotion from listeners? The writer pulled out all stops. He used children, Christmas, cancer and footwear all in one foul swoop! How much disrespect did he show for his audience by assuming that they would buy into it? And how shameful is it that it worked!? This is a popular song. I’ve heard it on the radio more times than you can imagine.

I once stopped dating a girl simply because she liked this song. I was making fun of it when it came on and she said that she thought it was beautiful. The decision was made right then and there. Now obviously, the relationship was fundamentally flawed and we weren’t planning a fall wedding up till then or anything, but that’s what really pushed it over the edge. That is how much I hate this horrible-bullshit-heart-string-tugging-moron-pleasing-bloody-late-term-abortion of a Christmas song.

Owie

First of all, I have been defeated. Yes, Terry won in last night's Ice Cream Eating Contest '05. BUT only by 2 bites! It's true, folks. We managed to down our pints of Ben and Jerry's in 18 minutes. And that wasn't even at a racing pace- that's just how long it would normally take both Terry and I to polish off a pint of the good stuff. Or the bad stuff. Any ice cream, really. Isn't that gross?
In other news, my butt bones are incredible sore today. I did cycling last night for the first time at my gym, and mama's rear end is feeling it today. It's not the kind of sore that comes from doing too many squats. I actually feel pretty good in that rite today. But those seats are SO hard. I'm considering buying some of those biker shorts...the padded ones? Would that look stupid? Nevermind. I just answered my own question.
Annnnnnnnd finally, my boss just forced us to eat pastries from Patesserie Poupon and now I am officially sweeted out for the day. I never thought I would say it, folks, but between the ice cream last night and danish I just scarfed down, that's it. I'm done. Someone make me a salad.

Boo Hiss, That's Life

Well, I got my rejection letter from Ohio Light Opera today...only one chance left, and that's with Cincinnatti Opera. Something tells me I'll be in NYC all summer...

Things could be worse, of course. I only chose to apply for summer program auditions this year, and was only granted a handful of auditions at that. I'm not going to pull the soprano card here, although it's TOTALLY acceptable to pull, but instead am going to comment on the number of people auditioning. It's really growing! Ohio Light said they had over 400 people auditioning for 32 slots, and 16 of those auditionees were Ohio Light alumns. So really, only 16 slots. Probably only 4 sopranos. 4 out of probably 350. Yeah. Sucks.

Oh well. Can't let a couple of "no thank yous" get me down. I know I got what it takes.

I'm Amuse-d

My friend Brent is one of a kind. I met him years ago in undergrad, while he was pursuing his Master's in Journalism. At the time of our meeting, he was taking voice lessons from a fellow singer and friend of mine. Brent was actually a trumpet player, but also enjoyed singing in his spare time. He wrote songs, played guitar and sang, and liked The Smiths. Brent was destined to be my friend.
Unfortunately, I didn't meet Brent until about a month before we both graduated from WVU. He was very funny and quirky, and could stay up all night quoting the Brak show. If I had met him a year or so earlier, I would probably be married to him now. Well...maybe not. Actually probably not at all. I guess what I mean is that Brent is so easy to like, so easy to engage in friendship, and just a down right good guy. I'm glad we remain friends.
Brent is also a published poet. Until recently, he was stuck living in Ardmore, Oklahoma (sorry Robert...but I actually have been there. Yikes!). He was working some crappy jobs, sending his poems out to be published, writing music, quoting Lou Reed to me over IM. Thankfully, he saved his pennies and moved to Denver, where he now lives and works. He works in an art gallery and (I think) he does graphic design somewhere else. He knows exciting artists, writers, and musicians, and is pretty much a non-hipster Hipster. For years, Brent has been bugging me to find a composer who will set some of his work. I knew plenty of composers at WVU, but I didn't really know anyone but singers once I started at Peabody. As time went on, I sort of forgot about Brent's talents, even when I befriended a certain Asian composer at Peabody.
Now I'm pretty excited, because I believe a collaboration is about to take place. A collab between le composer, le poet, and le singer- ME. It's very exciting. It makes me feel like a muse. I have illusions of grandeur, where this trio will premier dozens of works and gain fame in the chamber music-recital world, and we will all live in New York and be fabulous. Of course, that probably won't happen. At least not until one of the trio is finished at Duke. Maybe then.

Desperation Station

"I can't beleive you told Hilary about AJ!", said Steve. "Oh who cares. It's not like she wouldn't go out with him! She'll go out on any date", Ashley responds. "Why doesn't your sister have a boyfriend? She's such a charming lady" asks Steve. Ashley says, "oh she doesn't want one. She doesn't go out looking for men."

This was a conversation that took place between my sister and her "friend", Steve. For the record, I would like to point out that I will NOT go out with just ANYONE, Ashley. And as for Steve's question, I don't have a boyfriend because I haven't met anyone worth that much of my time and energy. That's not to say there aren't certain men I know who are totally worthy of my time and efforts, but it just doesn't work out that way for whatever reason.

I don't understand the OBSESSION with relationships. I have said many-a-time that I am excited to meet and be with a fabulous man, but it's not the end all and be all for me. Everywhere I look, love, coupleness, joy, happiness. And I have that too- with my family. I'm not gonna lie- when I see husbands and wives, boyfriends and girlfriends all lovey in this season, I get a little jealous. I get a little sad. Yet, on a daily basis, I have people asking me, "how's your love life? Do you have a boyfriend? My sister knows someone who..." Enough! I honestly don't know why it's hard to meet dates. I don't think any single person actually knows. If we did, we wouldn't be single. We would have some magical 'dar to seek out the best possible mate and not have to deal with all the crappy ones in between.

What is my point? I don't know. Oh wait...yes. My point is this timetable must be broken. I don't know what lies ahead for me. In fact, the only thing I know is that I'm moving in 3.5 months and couldn't be more excited. (Except for the transit strike today). And while I'm sometimes terribly jealous of my friends in relationships, I don't need one. Not until that damn biological clock starts to tick, anyway...

Dear Andrea,

BLOG SOMETHING. It has been 2 weeks, Ma'am, and I have seen NOTHING new out of you. Unacceptable.

Fatties

Me: now do you want to have our contest tomorrow or weds night? [ice cream eating contest]
Terry: either
Terry: dmtm
Me: oh god. dmtm?
Terry: you let me know what you want and i'll buy
Me: doesnt matter to me. hahahaha
Terry: doesn't
Me: i want chubby hubby
Terry: ding ding!
Me: let's do it weds
Terry: k
Me: for project runway!
Terry: sounds good. chunky monkey?
Me: no...chubby hubby
Terry: whatever
Me: they are DIFFERENT
Terry: no, i was telling you that i have a chunky monkey right now
Me: and i was telling you that i have a cubby, hubby
Terry: freudian slip. haahaha

Das Photos

Robert and I always seem to take the same picture over and over again, just in different places, different settings, and with different company each time. Most of the time, we look caught off-guard, confused, surprised, or just bad. If we are not in our classic pose, we actually look pretty good in pictures. I will share with you the melange (that was for Dan)of photos that really capture our essence and beauty.

Well Great

I just woke up with no voice. Nothing, except for a few sqeaks. I sound like a 13 year old boy. This is just great, see, because I have to cantor a service in less than 6 hours. Plus sing a rather large service tomorrow morning. Of course, this is no one's fault but my own. Granted, I only had 1 beer, so alcohol is not the culprit, but I screamed my head off all night at that damn Brewer's Art. So now I'm paying the price. Steam, tea, water, repeat.

In other news, I saw Pride and Prejudice last night. Now, being a big Colin Firth fan, I was hesitant to see this movie, as Mr. Firth makes the perfect Mr. Darcy in my mind. But, I must say, this Matthew Macfayden's Mr. Darcy was pretty damn good. Pompous, arrogant, then desparate and heroic. This is not only one of the greatest books ever, but also one of the greatest stories of all time. During the entire movie, I just kept wondering, where is MY Mr. Darcy? *Sigh*

Justice has been Served

I am pleased to announce that the security guard who threatened me has "been identified and removed." Effing right he has!
And, as Ashley's friend Steve pointed out, he didn't even threaten me correctly. He should have threatened to break my knee CAPS, not me knees. Stupid harrasser.

A Good Start

Today is my Dpt.'s Holiday Party, and it's bound to be a good time. Last year, I had to leave the party early becuase of my OTHER job, so I missed a lot of the hilarity. Not to mention the drinking. Yes, there is booze. Beer, wine, liquor, you name it. Fully catered, a DJ, presents, Santa, and more Neuroscientists than you can imagine. Yowza!
Well, my morning has started off right, as one of my co-workers just offered me Kaluha in my coffee. I don't mind if I do!

Where mama lawyer?

Last night, while picking my sister up from work, I was approached by a security guard. Ashley had not yet come out of the building, so I was parked, car still running, along the drive circle, waiting on her. The guard came up to my window (I've had run-ins with this particular guard before), and and said to me "I COULD vandalize your car right now." ??? "Uh...I'm waiting on my sister; she'll be out any minute. Do I really have to move my car?" [I should point at at this time that he asks me to move my car often, even though Ashley is literally on her way out of the building when I pull up.] "I could vandalize your car, OR I could break your knees."??????? BREAK my knees??????? That is what he said. I looked at him, dumbfounded, and said "Ummm...uhh...what?? Why would you do either of those things?" He said, "because you are parked on the curb. Both of your wheels are on the curb, and you need to move your car right now." Wow. I was speechless. So I moved my car, rolled my eyes several hundred times, and managed to call him a "fat fuck" while he was walking away. It took a few minutes for it to sink in that I had just been threatened. As soon as Ashley got in the car, I went OFF. I told her the whole story and made my already sore throat even worse. I couldn't believe that some sub-human fake cop was threatening me for PARKING. Getting fired for emails, getting threatened for parking, what's next? Is someone going to put a hit on me for wearing the wrong shade of lipstick?
I emailed my complaint to the head of security this morning, but I haven't heard anything back yet. I'll follow up with a call tomorrow, and mention that my cousin is a lawyer here in Baltimore city. Maybe that'll light a fire under that fat fuck's ass.

I hear that

One of the best looks into what we Weight Watcher lifers go through this time of year. Really, you don't know until you've been there.


http://www.themorningnews.org/archives/the_gutless_gourmet/weighing_in_about_the_holidays.php

Di-VA

I tried to post of picture of Miss Thang herself, but my computer here at work won't let me do it. I'll find one later.

At any rate, last night, I saw Renee Fleming sing at the Myerhoff. This woman is the epitome of all that is diva. She is not only gorgeous and regal, but her singing is flawless, composed, supported, controlled, and delivered without fail. She really is "the beautiful voice". It doesn't take a singer to know that this woman is IT. Her career is amazing- concert after recital after opera after book signing...it really makes me wonder how one person can do that much. Of course, she has a team of people who travel with her- personal assistant, manager, probably dietician (cause she looks AMAZING), maybe trainer. Did I mention all of her gowns are designed specifically for her? Can you imagine? "Hi, Vera Wang- yeah listen... I'm doing a recital at St. David's of Roland Park- can you do something in pink for me?" I must admit, although she sounded fabulous as usual, I was a bit disappointed with the program. Now, I realize it's the holiday season, so she sang all holiday-related pieces, but couldn't she throw in some Strauss somewhere? What about "Ain't it a Pretty Night"? No "Porgi Amor" to bring me to my knees? Damn. But she made me weep nonetheless with her floating flawlessness and breath support that goes for days and days. I was also thrilled when she sang "Rejoice" from the Messiah, because even Renee Fleming runs out of steam at the end of those melismas. We also do the same ornamentation. Yay. So, all in all, it was very enjoyable. She is an inspiration.

And now for my Grinchy part of this post:
It's difficult to enjoy an arteest such as Ms. Fleming when the audience is full of idiots. OK..so not the entire audience, but definately the two horrible 55 year old dykes in front of me. From the moment we sat down, these women were all over the map. Stand up, sit down, stand up, sit down (fight, fight, fight!). The one sitting directly in front of me either had too much caffeine or is ADD because she would NOT STOP moving the ENTIRE concert. Everytime she bounced her fat little head from side to side, I had to change head direction. She was blocking my view for 80% of the evening. That's when she wasn't scratching her gross girlfriend's back, or STANDING up in the middle of something to adjust her awful pantsuit. I was very very close to tapping her on the shoulder to tell her to stay put, but my mom held me back. But not without laughing at my discomfort. OH..how could I forget? Everytime these bitches clapped for Renee, they did the over-the-head clap...you know- what you might do a rock concert? That blocked my view even more, and just looks stupid. Don't get me wrong- as a singer, we need all the patronage we can get. But can't we do a screening or something?

Maintain, Don't Gain

This, friends, is my holiday mantra. You see, I have an incredible sweet tooth. I always say yes to dessert. In fact, most times I'll skimp on an actual meal just so I can have dessert. So, the holidays are particularly challenging for me, as sweets are around every corner (literally, at work, cookies are in the hallway corners).

Tonight I have overcome a temptation. My sister, Little Miss Size 6 who can eat whatever she wants, never work out, and NEVER gain weight, bought my favorite Little Debbie snack- Peanut Butter Crunch Bars. GAHHHHH. PBCBs are THE BEST Little Debbie Treat. They have always been my favorite, but I don't think I've actually purchased a box of Little Debbie anything in years. Reason being, my weakness is triggered, comfort food in place, and I eat the whole damn box. Within just a few days. Needless to say, I'd like to keep wearing my jeans, so I can't have Little Debbie.

At any rate, the Peanut Butter Crunch Bars are sitting on the kitchen counter, taunting me. I can hear them calling my name, but I say NO! I CAN'T HEAR YOU! No, Little Debbie, I will not succomb to your calories. I'm saving myself for Mr.Office Christmas party this Friday.

OK, this is the last Hipster Post

These were taken from a quiz from Gawker.com. I knew you wouldn't all read the quiz, even though it's hilarious, so I just included the best categories.


0-24 points: You are an Unabashed Hipster. Odds are you can’t even concentrate on this because the Bloc Party remix CD is playing through your Mac so loud. And you’re proud of it! You work in music/media/art/fashion/promotion, but the day job doesn’t stop you from going out 4-5 nights a week. You won’t touch it unless it’s an open bar. Either you’re a DJ or you’re in a band. Several of your shirts have no sleeves. For the most part, you’ve stopped eating.


25 points: You are the Hipster Messiah. Generations of hipsters have sung your praises and awaited your arrival so that you could show them precisely how it should be done. You are an immortal. Everybody in the scene has not only heard of you, but would probably recognize you even though they have never met you. Then they would softly whisper to a friend, “That’s such-and-such.” You aren’t even invited to anything because it’s just a given that you know about it and you’ll be there. You work with bands and artists, but only the ones you feel like taking on. You’re not a DJ, per se, but sometimes they’ll ask you to play your favorite records just for shits and giggles. You own more than one headband. When Maureen Callahan needs a quote for a Post article, she calls you. You consider “Bronques” a close friend. You should kill yourself.

How Hipster are YOU?

I'm only half-hipster. Thank God.


1. You graduated from a liberal arts school whose football team hasn'twon a game since the Reagan administration.

2. You frequently use the term "post-modern" (or its commonly used variation "PoMo") as an adjective, noun, and verb.

3. You carry a shoulder-strap messenger bag and have at one time or another worn a pair of horn-rimmed or Elvis Costello-style glasses.

4. You have one Republican friend who you always describe as being your "one Republican friend."

5. Your hair looks best unwashed and you position your head on your pillow at night in a way that will really maximize your cowlicks.

6. You own records put out by Matador, DFA, Definitive Jux, Dischord, Warp, Thrill Jockey, Smells Like Records, and Drag City.

Right on, David Sedaris

I'd like to include an excerpt from ME TALK PRETTY ONE DAY, by David Sedaris. If you don't know him, get to. The man is a genius.

This particular snippet is taken from a chapter where a childhood friend comes to visit David in NYC, and brings along a guest. This guest is from North Carolina, and has never been to New York before.

" "I expect to be treated like everybody else is what I expect [she was appalled at her taxi fare]. I expect to be treated like an American.'
That was the root of the problem right there. Visiting Americans will find more warmth in Tehran than they will in New York City, a city founded on the principle of Us versus Them. I don't speak Latin but have always assumed that the city motto translates to either Go Home or We Don't Like You, Either. Like me, most of the people I knew had moved to New York with the express purpose of escaping Americans such as Bonnie [yes and yes]. Fear had worked in our favor until a new mayor began promoting the city as a family theme park. His campaign bad worked, and now the Bonnies were arriving in droves, demanding the same hospitality they'r received last month in Orlando."

And the Jury Says...

"To dream that you are choking someone, signifies feelings of aggression. You may also be trying to prevent something from being said or revealed. Choking dreams are often a fearful experience and it is not uncommon for dreamers to awaken from them."

Yes, folks, apparently I am concealing aggression, because last night I had a dream that I choked an elderly woman to death. That's right. I'm a murderess. Morbidity abounds! In the dream, she was trying to kill me, so I had to choke her, by DROWNING HER IN A BATHTUB, mind you, in order to save myself. Then, she rose from the dead and was after me again when I awoke in a panic. It was only 12:30. Still 7 hours left until I had to get up from work. What the hell?
I was so exhausted when I woke up that I had to literally pry my eyes open to try and stay awake. I guess in my half-awake, half-asleep state, I thought this old bat was in my room, ready to wring my neck. Eventually, I couldn't fight it, and I feel back asleep, but I woke up 4 more times during the night, unable to get comfortable.

Does this dream really mean that I'm hiding aggression? Normally I get all my aggression out when I'm driving. Just ask Dan the chef. But I can honestly say, I don't think I'm holding anything back right now. I did go to a body combat class at my gym last night, where I punched and kicked the air for an hour straight (mama's sore today). Maybe that translated into me killing someone?

Who knows. Why couldn't I have had a nice flying dream, or a dream where I get to make out with an ex-boyfriend or Joaquin Phoenix? I like those dreams.

Um, when can I start?

From Craigslist Jobs NYC:

Responsibilities include but are not limited to:

- Misc information gathering and presentation
- Answering phones in a professional manner
- Internet Research
- Ordering supplies
- Overall upkeep of office
- Personal assistance tasks for the company President including
errands, travel arrangements, subscription management, maintaining
appointments bill paying

Some work in the Hamptons will be required.

Sally McPlanpants

Just call me Miss Planny Plannerson. At least, Robert calls me that. Or something like that. He refers to me as the gal with the plans because I need to have things planned to make my life feel on schedule. When I was in school, there was a schedule for everything- class, rehearsals, performances, even partying. We always knew what time we'd head out to parties, bars, football games, couch burnings. So that structure was established years ago, and I guess it's something I still need. Now, that's not to say I can't be spontaneous. I wouldn't exactly pack up and go sky diving at a moment's notice (or ever), but I'm up for the last minute invite from time to time.
However, in general, I enjoy my life to be on the calendar. So I know what's coming/what to wear/how much I can eat/how many extra sit-ups I should do. Being that it is the holiday season, there are a million and one things to do. Concerts, craft shows, parties, momument lightings, restaurants. There are defiantely things to do in our fair city.
My social calendar is plesantly full at the moment. This weekend, I'll be attending the opening night showing of "Brokeback Mountain" (I like to make it seem like I was invited or something, but really it's just at the Charles), and several parties. I will also attend a jazzzzzzzzzz concert to see Dan play, a craft show, and sing several gigs- including LESSONS AND CAROLS AT ST. DAVIDS, SUNDAY, 5 PM. Next week is my office Christmas party, fun at Sonar, fun at Pazo, some Fells Point Christmas fest, and I think I may go hear the Maryland Boys Choir perform. Then it's Christmas, New Years, and BAM- January.
So you see, if you think of your life in terms of a schedule, things fall into place. You know what you can and can't do. At least, that's how I like my life.

Pew Shaking

My sister and I have serious problems composing ourselves. We laugh at A LOT of things...some of which are funny, some of which are not. To us, most things can be absolutely hilarious. We like to laugh, and we do....in spades. Once we get started, we can't stop. One just leads the other on, until we are both doing the "silent laugh", snorting, crying, and unable to stand. I have lost control of my legs several times in fits of laughter. The problem is, we laugh at A) inappropriate times B) during silences and C) when no one else is laughing. Oh, and we laugh at bodily functions. We are 4.
A few examples:

A few years ago, on a Sunday in Advent, Ashley and I attempted to harmonize "Hark the Herald Angels Sing", only we were about 1/2 step off. Now, normally, if I were harmonizing by myself, I would fix the mistake and continue singing. But, since we were a force, we immediately LOST IT and starting laughing uncontrolably. Even after the hymn was over, and we were sitting in the pew, we were still laughing. And crying. And pissing off our parents. The entire pew was shaking.

Another time, in church once again, I drifted off to sleep momentarily during prayers. I must have had a late night the night before..I dont really remember. But, when everyone started reciting the Lords Prayer, I awoke, speaking in what sounded like babble/tongues. Ashley hits my arm and says "WHAT are you doing?!" Well, cause for pew shaking number 2..only this time, our brother was also laughing. Man...that was bad.

We've also laughed during funeral services, due to HORRIBLE organ playing, TERRIBLE singing, and people who don't blow their noses. Awful, I know. We are simply awful.

Last night, during the Army Field Band's Holiday concert, we had several incredible fits of laughter due to A)story telling on stage, B) instruments being dropped, and C) crazy soloists. Our cousin and his wife were sitting next to us, and we are afraid that they were mad b/c of all the tomfoolery going on. Oh well- it's best they know now not to sit with us at any funerals, weddings, concerts, or other events that may produce unfunny yet hysterical happenings.

Ho Ho Ho

Well kids, mama's not feeling to great today. I feel like I might be coming down with something, but I sure hope not. Maybe it's still post-going out late in NYC and drinking my face off- syndrome.
Anyway, when you feel shitty, you hardly feel like going to work. Everything becomes annoying, especially people. In an attempt to feel better, I just made some tea for myself. As I was in the kitchen grabbing a mug, I saw an evelope, addressed to "Santa Claus- North Pole, USA", complete with a stamp. AWWWWW. That actually made me smile. Now, I'm seriously hoping that this letter belongs to a child of a co-worker, and that it wasn't addressed by a 40 something in my office. That would be a whoooooole other can of worms.

Dear Amtrak,

Why are your prices so high? And why are they so random? Amtrak, I was looking up prices for tickets at the end of January- Baltimore-NYC, round trip. How is it, Amtrak, that leaving on a Friday at 10:00 AM will cost me $93.00 one way, but coming back on Saturday at 6 PM is only $60.00? And, Amtrak, if I wanted to use your services to go to NYC for New Years Eve, I would have to shell out roughly $250.00 round trip. ARE YOU KIDDING ME? I fly my own plane for that price.
I realize you have to raise your costs because the goverment doesn't give you as much money as they once did. But, honestly, it's not worth all that. True, your serivce is better than say, Greyhound. But until I make more money, I'll have to take cheap over service.

In a New York Minute

Whirl.wind.weekend.

Everything happens fast in New York City; that's part of the reason why I love it. The hustle and bustle, and pretentiousness of almost everyone. The glazed looks on the faces of people riding the subway to and from work. The stylish outerwear of New Yorkers during the winter. Fabulous.
This weekend started out with Greyhound ( the ONE time I don't take the Chinatown bus) leaving Baltimore 45 minutes late, thus arriving in NY an hour late, thus allowing me limited time to warm up, change, and get to my audition. I just love the feeling pressured by time AND nerves! But no worries...made it on time, and sang well. Done and done. Friday night, I stayed with my friend Jonathan, who lives on Wall St. He showed me a fabulous time, mid-town style. We ate at a hip place (Vinyl), drank at some swank places (Hudson Hotel and Flute), and took a cab. Taking cabs always makes me feel important. I never take them, mostly because I'm poor, but once and a while, it's a nice treat. Yay Jonathan.
Saturday, I went shopping in Union Square, ice skating in Bryant Park, and felt generally Christmasy. I stayed with my friend Chris (whose nickname is Bucket...a childhood thang), who I hadn't seen in 6 years. Bucket lives in Williamsburg (Crooklyn), which is tragically hip. Hipsters line the streets, with their scenester haircuts, short leather jackets, and coffee. Cool bars, cafes, restaurants, galleries, tattoo shops, and boutiques abound. I would love to live there, but I don't think I can afford it...yet. Anyway, we had dinner in the BK, then headed to Manhattan to see Ted Leo and the Pharmacists (a GREAT band). Since Bucket's roommate works at the club where Ted Leo was playing (Webster Hall), we got in free, and were V.I.P. That meant we got to sit in cushy chairs, in the balcony, drink for free, and hang with the important people. Badass. Ted Leo ROCKED, and I got trashed. So trashed, in fact, that I don't really remember going to the next club to see the Japanese punk band, Peelander Z. What I do remember is that Peelander put on perhaps the wierdest show I've ever seen, complete with human bowling. On our way out of the Peelander show (at Mercury Lounge), I literally ran into Moby. WIth my right shoulder. Wow. Too bad I was nearly ill because of the amount of gin flowing through my blood. Otherwise, we could have partied with Moby. Dammit.
Then it was back to Brooklyn, where we hung out at a cool bar and drank more. One snowy walk back to Bucket's later, we passed out.
Needless to say, I'm a little tired today. I'd like to think that when I live in NY, weekends like this will be a regular thing, but they probably won't. I spent more money this weekend than I do in a month (OK...not really, but I spent a lot). So now, I just have to find a wealthy film editor or writer or gallery owner or musician manager, who will hang out with me and Moby.

Guess I'll go Eat Worms

I consider myself to be a pretty likable person. I have a lot of friends, am friendly to most people, and feel as though I am generally respected and cared for. So, when I feel like someone doesn't like me, I feel threatened. And my feelings of being threatened turn into one of two things- hatred or confusion. Well, hatred is a pretty strong word. Let's say strong dislike or confusion.
In this case, confusion.
I have a co-worker who is naturally pretty shy. He doesn't say much, keep to himself for the most part, and quietly (VERY quietly) does his work. That's all fine. I started working here around the same time as this gent, so we were going through the new employment process together. I would try to ask him questions in the get-to-know-ya fashion, and he gave me a minimal response. But he was that way with everyone else too, so I didn't take it personally. As the months went on, I noticed more interaction with my other co-workers on his part. He had/has daily conversations with some of the other ladies, shares things with them, but has not included me in any of this. I must admit, I basically stopped trying to talk to him when all I got was a "hey" as a greeting. So now I'm not sure what to think- does he dislike me? Or does he think I'm sooooo different from him that we couldn't possibly have anything to talk about?
Normally, I wouldn't really care. And it's not like it's keeping me up at night. But I hate that feeling of awkwardness at work...when we are the only 2 people around. The silence is deafening. I kind of feel like I'm back in high school...sharing a lab table in Physics with Joey Jordan and Aaron Weaver.