Friday, August 31, 2007
Thursday, August 30, 2007
1. Got my passport photos taken, and my personal tradition of downright awful headshots continues. You may think I'm exaggerating, but I really do take terrible headshots. I've had the following conversation about 100 times:
Bouncer/Person Examining My ID: "Wow, you must have lost a lot of
weight since this photo was taken. Congratulations!"
Me: "No, I just look fat in pictures."
This one might be the worst yet. I look like a fat, crazed, IRA member.
2. Attempted to replace the burned out taillight in my car. Naturally, I couldn't remember which one was burned out, and something that can be easily discerned by two people (one presses on brake pedal, other stands behind car and watches), but is much more difficult as a one-person job. After unsuccessfully using a heavy book and a giant bag of peat moss in an attempt to hold the pedal down, I eventually resorted to accosting two women out on a power walk at lunch. They looked frightened when I ran down the driveway and called out "Would you please do me a small favor?" but complied nonetheless. I was determined to replace them myself, so I looked up the part number and the instructions in the manual. Then, off to the auto parts store, where I bought the replacement bulbs. I was quite proud of myself when I finished the job, even though a rusted screw snapped in the process. However, when I tested out the light, the blinker wasn't working properly.
3. Got my car inspected. Showed the mechanic the light, and he chided me for not having a professional take care of it, then charged me $25. Next, they wouldn't pass my car because of a loose front wheel or some nonsense, so I had to pay another hundred bucks to get that fixed. It took a few hours, during which I wandered around downtown Framingham and eventually ended up getting a pedicure and watching Family Feud with two Vietnamese ladies to pass the time.
4. Yankees swept the Sox. I need to come clean. This was all my fault. Earlier this week, a friend had forwarded me an Onion article about the Yankees, and I responded with this line "The series is meaningless unless the Yankees sweep."
He immediately wrote back- "You idiot! What have you done?" The baseball gods have smited me. THE SOX GOT SWEPT AND IT'S ALL MY FAULT BECAUSE I TOTALLY JINXED THEM. And I'm sorry.
Wednesday, August 29, 2007
1. passed out bums
2. used condoms (yeah, GROSS.)
Yesterday was a special sort of day, because for the first time ever, I found a passed out dude and used condom on the same walk home. (no, they weren't near each other.)
While we're on the topic , I have an etiquette question. What is the proper way to react to finding an intoxicated man passed out on the sidewalk? Here are some options:
A. Try to wake him up. Seems like the kindest thing to do...a gentle, "excuse me mister, you probably shouldn't sleep here, somebody might steal the rest of your bottle of Cossack vodka." However, I'm always afraid that the guy will turn out to be some crackhead who will go nutso and try to attack me. Especially because the areas where I often find passed out dudes tend to be fairly deserted.
B. Do nothing. Hey, he'll probably wake up in a couple of hours and be fine. But what if he has alcohol poisoning and dies? What if he's not actually an intoxicated bum, but some man that had a heart attack or something? (I usually look to make sure they are still breathing, and then examine the surroundings for alcohol bottles.)
C. Call an ambulance. But what if the guy is just some poor drunk who ends up getting arrested because I called it in? Or ends up saddled with some huge emergency room bill when he would have been perfectly fine if he had just been left alone?
D. Steal the rest of their booze and make a run for it! (Just kidding)
I never know what to do. Usually I stop to make sure that they're breathing. Once, I did call 911 because it was an old man, face down on the sidewalk. Earlier this summer, I actually found a passed out guy on the front steps of my apartment, and I tried to wake him up. I was unsuccessful, but someone must have already called because a police car and ambulance arrived moments later. Yesterday's find was a guy sitting Indian style, totally passed out, with his glasses, a cell phone, and an empty liquor bottle all on the sidewalk in front of him. I just let him be.
Tuesday, August 28, 2007
Sunday, August 26, 2007
Saturday- Downtown Boston turned into a sweltering pool of heat and humidity, so three friends and I drove up to Singing Beach in Manchester-By-The-Sea. It was a perfect day, the kind of day Lou Reed was singing about in that song from the Trainspotting soundtrack. The sun was warm and pleasant, the breeze was blowing, and the ocean was finally warm enough to swim in without feeling like you were being stabbed by hundreds of tiny icicles. Aaaaahhh.
After the beach, I went out for a while to celebrate my friend Phil's birthday (happy birthday, Phil!).
Sunday- Slept in, cleaned the apartment, went shopping. I got a pair of bright red strappy heels wear to a wedding next weekend- they're very not me, but I love them. I'll post a photo at some point. I went to Filene's Basement with the intention of expanding my wardrobe with something other than jeans and t-shirts, yet I ended up purchasing two pairs of jeans. As soon as I got home, I dug out the Nerd Jeans from my dresser and threw them in the Goodwill pile. I own several pairs of jeans, but I only actually wear two or three of them. The others, categorized as Nerd Jeans, just don't fit right, or are old enough to be noticeably out of style, or maybe they are borderline too short. I have a complex about my pants being too short. If they are anything less than a 34" inseam, I'll spend the whole day thinking "are these pants too short?," even repeatedly asking people, and then not believing them when they tell me that they aren't. That's what happens when you spend your entire childhood dressed in your older sister's hand me downs that don't fit quite right. Until recently, I refused to wear three-quarter length sleeves, because when I was a kid, I had long, skinny arms that always poked out of my long-sleeved shirts, and my mom tried to reassure me by telling me that they were three-quarter sleeved and were supposed to look like that. I knew it wasn't true. Anyways, back to Nerd Jeans... I don't know why I keep them around...I tell myself that I can wear them when I'm doing nothing on the weekend, but even when I'm doing nothing, I still don't want to wear a pair of frumpy Nerd Jeans. So, now, they have been eliminated, and I feel good about that.
Friday, August 24, 2007
(Note to self: white tank top underneath thin black t-shirt does NOT photograph well. Second note to self: For heaven's sake, you're not 21 anymore. Shots? On a weeknight? Bad idea.)
"Hey, what's that stuff in my eyebrows? It looks like crumbs. How did I get crumbs in my eyebrows? Oh yeah, it must have been at lunch, when I balanced a potato chip on my nose to see if I could jerk my head, flip it into the air, and then catch it in my mouth. You know, like a dog does when you balance a treat on its snout."
Moments like these make me realize why I don't have a boyfriend.
Thursday, August 23, 2007
So, thanks, ye readers, for tagging along all this time. I feel like my posting quality has decreased over the last few months, most likely due to the an increase in the time and effort I've been putting into work. However, as long as there are entertaining websites to peruse, unusual news stories to ponder, interspecies friendships over which to rejoice, and inane hijinks from my own life to share, DCOE will keep on chuggin'.
Wednesday, August 22, 2007
Tuesday, August 21, 2007
2. My mother
It just seems so rude and ungrateful to get rid of a gift, no matter how much it clashes with your own personal style. However, enough is enough. How long am I going to keep lugging around a box of trinkets that I don’t even like, only to pull them out and display them on unoccupied flat surfaces? Nevermore, that’s your answer! During the cleaning process, I had already packed up a bag of old clothes to bring to Goodwill, and I rounded up all of the offending knick-knacks and threw them in as well. Goodbye, ye little dish with a dove perched upon it! Fare thee well, miniature wooden giraffe! And you, ceramic cat hugging a ceramic mouse wearing a sweater, may you happily gather dust upon someone else’s shelf.
Sunday, August 19, 2007
Friday, August 17, 2007
Thursday, August 16, 2007
Sharon, administrative assistant: "I love your blouse!"
Vibhu, fellow graduate student: "Whoa! You're dressed up today!"
Ajit, scientist from India: "Nice shirt, Eileen. It looks like something that famous singer would wear. (Me: "Which famous singer?") You know, the one with the big sideburns. From Tennessee. He died a long time ago.... (Me, perplexed: "Elvis?").... Yes! That is the guy!"
Elvis. Not exactly the look I was going for.
Wednesday, August 15, 2007
Tuesday, August 14, 2007
Monday, August 13, 2007
Sunday, August 12, 2007
Saturday- My college friend Kori was in town with her fiance, whom I had never met before, so Lisa and I had dinner with them at the Palm. After a delicious dinner, we headed across the street for drinks at The Oak Bar, because apparently one fancy hotel bar wasn't enough for the night. After a very intense drunken discussion of illegal immigrants, Presidential candidates, and economic policy, I went home, started reading Harry Potter on the couch, and woke up in a ball of sweat at 4:30AM. Again.
Sunday- Finished reading Harry Potter (liked it, won't discuss as to avoid spoilers), then I met Kim, Mike, and Maya for breakfast at Flour. We walked around the South End outdoor market for a bit, and I've been at work since then, actually making some progress.
Friday, August 10, 2007
Wednesday, August 08, 2007
Tuesday, August 07, 2007
Monday, August 06, 2007
Although the plot bears little similarity to the other Chabon novels I've read, the crisp, entertaining writing style and masterful creation of characters remain the same. A bad haircut isn't just a haircut, it's an ungodly blend of a pompadour and a high-and-tight. The account of a sleepless night during which Landsman shares a bed with his two young nephews made me laugh out loud: "Around dawn, something terrible happens in the baby's diaper."
Although I'm not a fan of conspiracy theories (likes: interspecies friendships, the NBA. Dislikes: epic biographies of eccentric businessmen, conspiracy theories), and the latest novel isn't the breaktaking masterpiece of his Pulitzer Prize winner, it's still a great read.
Now, onto music.
I'm thoroughly enjoying my two recent purchases.
1. The new Wilco album, Sky Blue Sky. Wilco is one of those bands who have been on my radar for a long time, but that I've never really been that into. Until now. I heard the song Walken on the radio and had to buy the new album, and I love it! Very mellow, full of melodic guitar and simple lyrics, with a strong an impossible to not notice similarity to the Grateful Dead. Has Jeff Tweedy always sounded exactly like Jerry Garcia and I somehow never noticed? Apparently. Anyways, here's my favorite track for your downloading pleasure.
2. I have raved about them before, but I ordered the Heartless Bastards album All This Time, and I need to give this fantastic band (with a fantastic name) another plug. Don't be fooled by the girlish drawing on the cover, this is no Lillith fair act. Frontwoman Erika Wennerstrom is pure rock and roll, with a powerful guitar and a voice to match, and musical charisma that will remind you of Chrissie Hynde and Debbie Harry. The Heartless Bastards play the type of music that makes you think of heartbreak, dive bars, and Bud bottles, but in a good way.
Searching For the Ghost
Friday, August 03, 2007
Gah! I was mortified, and my first instinct was to drop everything and sprint immediately out of the store. I then decided that particular option would draw even more attention to myself. Instead, I opted to purchase the t-shirt and tucked it in to back of my shorts to cover up my brown badge of courage, and slinked my way up to the register.
Have a great weekend, everyone!
Thursday, August 02, 2007
I know this is random, but I just want to clear this up for people out there. There are these things called shark attacks, but there is no such thing as a shark attack. I have never seen a real shark attack. I know you’re making a weird face as you’re reading this. OK people, a shark attack is not what we see on TV and what people portray it as.
We’re humans. We live on land.
Sharks live in water.
So if you’re swimming in the water and a shark bites you, that’s called trespassing. That is called trespassing. That is not a shark attack.
A shark attack is if you’re chilling at home, sitting on your couch, and a shark comes in and bites you; now that’s a shark attack. Now, if you’re chilling in the water, that is called invasion of space. So I have never heard of a shark attack.
When I see on the news where it’s like, “There have been 10 shark attacks,” I’m like, “Hey, for real?! They’re just running around? Sharks are walking now, huh! We live on the land, we don’t live underwater.”
Brilliant stuff! Oh, and Agent Zero is also happy with the KG trade. Speaking of Boston's new star, I was at the Red Sox game last night, and he threw the first pitch. Okay, so, technically I was still at the bar watching it on television at that point, but I did make it inside Fenway shortly thereafter.