Visited States

Here's where I've been:


create your own visited states map

Wow, almost all of them! I hit the majority of them in three trips: a family train trip to Montana when we were kids (My parents are that 0.0002% of the population who enjoy train travel. I, however, do not.), a post-college road trip from Boston to New Orleans, which was my first big adventure south of Mason-Dixon, and my drive from Boston to San Diego last January. And yes, I insisted on a detour to Four Corners, because when I was a kid memorizing state capitals I thought it was SO COOL that you could be simultaneously be in four states at once, when in fact it is probably the most bleak, isolated, and boring national monument in the country (although I did lie down in the middle of four states and that was pretty cool).
I'm just missing a few in the central west part of the country, and I can't remember driving through West Virginia, although I'm fairly certain I must have at some point.

via TD

What's your life path number? (no, I don't know what it means either)

I have no idea what a Life Path Number is, but apparently it is based on your birthdate. I stumbled across this quiz on Pipedreams while killing time waiting for a gel to run. I'm an 11. I'm not sure how accurate it is, but I was once told by a good friend that I have the personality of a cult leader (insult or compliment?), so maybe they're onto something with the "religious leader or prophet." Be afraid, my minions, lest I lead you down a path towards darkness. As for "sensitive and passionate" in love, um, not so much. And yes, I don't fit in, but I embraced my weirdness long ago.

Your Life Path Number is 11

Your purpose in life is to inspire others Your amazing energy draws people to you, and you give them great insight in return. You hold a great amount of power over others, without even trying. You have the makings of an inventor, artist, religious leader, or prophet. In love, you are sensitive and passionate. You connect with your partner on a very deep level. You have great abilities, but you are often way too critical of yourself. You don't fit in - and instead of celebrating your differences, you dwell on them. You have high expectations of yourself. But sometimes you set them too high and don't achieve anything.

What Is Your Life Path Number?

Are you ready for some (college) football?

I sure am, especially with the Sox tanking and all.

ND kicks off the season this weekend against Georgia Tech. Check out the Underground Notre Dame Glossary to get yourself in the mood.
via Lisa

The Scream recovered

Edward Munch's famous painting The Scream has been recovered by police in Norway, two years after it was stolen from the Munch Museum by armed gunmen.

I am fascinated by cases of stolen art. Who buys it? What do they do with it? If I were a eccentric, rich, and unethical person and I bought a stolen masterpiece, especially one whose theft was highly publicized, what would I do with it? Hang it in a secret room and only show it to my most trusted friends? Put it in a storage facility and never let anyone know I have it? Hang it in plain view and kill anyone who dared to gaze upon it?

Speaking of artwork, I think it would be quite fun to own this.

OK Go videos

I think I posted the fantastic treadmill video before, but I was unaware that a previous video existed. Watch OK Go dance to their song A Million Ways. I love it! It sort of reminds me of this old gem, which I loved then and still love now.

Not nearly exciting as it sounds

My imagination ran wild when I read this headline: Sweden's Pirate Party Presents Their Election Manifesto. A Pirate Party? Arrrgh! Rum for all! Tax breaks on peg legs and hooks! Invade Norway!

....then I read the manifesto. It's just some boring crap about copyright laws.

Exchange of the day

Ern, Maria, and I went out last night to the Playwright, played trivia, and met some interesting gentlemen. One took a shine to Ern, leading to the following exchange:

guy: What's your name?
Ern: Erin.
guy: Like Aryan Brotherhood?
Ern: No, not Aryan, Ern!
guy: Oh, I was going to ask if you have a spiderweb tattoo on your elbow.

Seriously, folks, who hasn't heard of the name Erin? Especially in South Boston, where approximately one out of ever four girls is named Erin.

Massachusetts: We're wicked smart

at least in math. See?


And do you know what's wicked awesome? This poster. (via RT)

Federer watch

Readers of this blog may be aware of my obsession with Roger Federer...apparently I'm not the only one dazzled by his play. Here's a lengthy article from the New York Times about the best (and best looking) tennis player in the world, Federer as a Religious Experience. He's also one of ESPN.com's eight reasons to watch the U.S. Open:

We've said it before and we'll say it again: You don't need an oversize racket in your closet to appreciate Roger Federer, any more than you need an art history degree to appreciate the Sistine Chapel. Like Tiger Woods -- the athlete he's most often compared to -- the Swiss star plays an aesthetically pleasing game that can be enjoyed by anyone with a passing interest in athletics; if Federer were a Radiohead album, he'd be "The Bends," not "Kid A."

and here's a gratuitous photo:



"Hey, Roger, that white blazer would look great on my bedroom floor."

Photohunt

This photo made me laugh.













but something about the candid shot of three confused-looking people seemed oddly familiar.

Oh yes, it reminded me of this:














With John Lithgow as myself, Heidi Klum as Jon, and the grandfather from Arrested Development playing the role of Mike. Except they're dressed up at the Emmys, whereas we were slightly intoxicated riding the London Underground.

And I thought these two were gonna make it

Looks like Bruce and Patti may have gone the way of Brenda and Eddie. Too bad; I always liked those two together. Stupid husband-stealing 9/11 widows!

Weekend Report

Despite the fact that I had absolutely zero plans come Friday afternoon, the weekend turned out to be quite eventful.

Friday- After work, I went out to eat with Carolina, Jose, and Megan, and we stopped into a random Chinese restaurant to grab a drink. I don't even know the name of the place, because it was in Chinese, but the bartender was from Nicaragua and made us some kick-ass mixed drinks- potent and delicious but not too sweet. We then headed out to the movies, where we met up with Ern and saw Little Miss Sunshine. We got there just as the movie was starting and ended up sitting in the second row, which due to our inebriated state, was more amusing than annoying. Ern told us that we smelled like hobos, "loud hobos," and to STFU and watch the movie. We did, and it was great! Since it's an independent film, it's not playing in all theaters, but if you get a chance, go see it. The plot is simple enough: dysfunctional family goes on road trip, things go awry, and hilarity ensues. The ensemble cast, featuring Toni Collete as the mom, Steve Carell as the suicidal gay Proust scholar/uncle, and Alan Arkin as the heroin snorting grandfather, is a pleasure to watch on screen. Of all of the characters, the sullen teenage son who is in the midst of a year-long vow of silence was my favorite. And did I mention that it's hilarious? Oh my gosh, during the horn honking scene, I was laughing so hard that tears streamed down my face. So take my advice and go see it, you won't be disappointed. Unless you hate laughter.
We ran into some friends at the movie and all decided to go back to the Chinatown restaurant for some more fabulous drinks. Since our group had increased in size, they opened the second floor karaoke lounge for us, so we spend the next couple of hours enjoying hurricanes and butchering classic songs like "Gangsta's Paradise" and "Edelweiss". I sang solo on "More Than Words" by Extreme, and I was wicked pumped up about it. Later on, three guys from El Salvador showed up and sang La Bamba and a bunch of rancheras, (but sadly, no La Puerta Negra). At one point, Jose said to me "Come to the men's bathroom with me. I have to show you something." Heh- I've heard that one before. Curious, I followed him, and in the men's bathroom a trap door in the ceiling was partially opened, revealing a folding staircase. I pulled it down and climbed up, and it lead to an enormous, pitch-black attic/secret passageway. I was too scared to explore further, fearful that I would stumble upon some illegal gambling operation or human trafficking, but Jose climbed up and wandered around until he tripped on a can of paint and got a splinter. We all decided to high-tail it out of there before the night got even stranger (or we got even drunker).

Saturday- Ern and I had originally planned to drive out to Western Mass to hike Mt. Greylock, but since Friday's Chinatown adventures left us a bit hungover, those plans were tossed out the window. Instead, we picked up our friend Mark in Worcester and climbed Mt. Wachusett. After an enjoyable 2 hour hike, we found the Wachusett Brewing Company and went on a brewery tour. Here are a couple of photos:



That night, I met up with some more Framingham natives. Brianna was in town, so I met up with her, her dad, Arturo, and Mulvey at a townie bar in Quincy. Good times were had by all. Here's a good picture of everyone else but a bad picture of me- I don't know why my mouth is open like that, but I promised everyone they'd have their day in the sun on DCoE.
Arturo also told me about a music video he appears in called Pervert in the Park. Quality entertainment...the hammers might recognize some of our classmates.

Sunday- Did some errands, played soccer in the rain, and had dinner at Kerry and Adam's house with an Irish friend- my name twin, Eileen- who is in town visiting her aunt and uncle.

On Notice

All of my most abhored things, watch your collective back. You're On Notice!


via 13dfm

Make your own Colbert On Notice board here

Train in Vain

Goldenfiddle has a bunch of songs about trains up for grabs; just right-click and save. Get 'em while they're hot!

Oh internet, I bow down in amazement to your powers

A couple of weeks ago the authors of Go Fug Yourself mentioned the fact that Courtney Cox was once the cover model on a pre-teen girly fiction novel during the 1980s. Lo and behold, one of their readers located the actual book, The Last Word.

Then, Sarah from Que Sera Sera drops some heavy allusions to the pinnacle of the pre-teen girly novel series, The Baby-sitters Club, into one of her posts. Yes, in addition to reading Roald Dahl and The Pushcart War, in my younger days I also pulled The Babysitters Club and Sweet Valley High off the shelves of the library's Young Adult section.

I started reminiscing about the babysitting adventures of Kristy, Claudia, Mary Anne, and the diabetic one, and I suddenly recalled the fact that my best friend Kim, who modeled as a child, once appeared on the box of a Baby-Sitters Club board game. And I bet you all can guess what happened next....no, it had nothing to do with a pterodactyl, guess again....yes, I found the game:

The green arrow is pointing to Kim. Such is the power of the internet.

Just wondering

Did you ever have a sex dream about someone completely random who you've never consciously been attracted to, like someone from work, and then the next day you run into them and are completely mortified and paranoid that somehow they'll be able to tell that you had a sex dream about them, and your worrying about their possible mind-reading capabilities makes you act all strange and awkward?

No? Me neither. I was just wondering.

I'm secretly a fan of...

Joan Rivers. She's tacky and ridiculous and oh so hilarious. Don't believe me? Check out this clip of her presenting at an awards ceremony in Australia. My favorite part is when she tosses the award statue over her shoulder.

Internet round up

Here are some stories and posts of interest:

How to become a regular. The tips seem to be skewed towards becoming a regular at a fancy restaurant. If you want advice on how to become a regular at Dunkin Donuts or your neighborhood dive bar, I will gladly oblige. I can almost be considered a regular at the bar across the street from my apartment. I know the bartenders and the bouncers, and I get invited to the annual Christmas party (free booze!).
via Mike

Quiz: How Massachusetts are you? 100% Masshole, baby!
via Universal Hub

Top Ten Signs You're an Older Student. I can relate.
via Tricia

and lastly, Forbes.com throws it back to the 1950's with this article: Don't Marry Career Women. Most of their broad generalizations:

While everyone knows that marriage can be stressful, recent studies have found professional women are more likely to get divorced, more likely to cheat, less likely to have children, and, if they do have kids, they are more likely to be unhappy about it.

about "career women" are probably also true about "career men." I bet everyone would be happier if they didn't have a stressful job to go to every day. I also believe that it's hard to ascertain anything from their statistics because, other than the fact that they don't provide any, they don't control for income. Any family where one parent can afford to stay at home, be it mom or dad, is probably wealthier than a family with two working parents. Hey Forbes.com, take your blatantly sexist article and go suck a dong.
via Boing Boing

Update: after Boing Boing made fun of the Forbes article, it was mocked so thouroghly on the internet that Forbes.com took it down. Then, after determining that that move made them look like wimps in addition to sexists, they put it back up along with a counterpoint article. However, the accompanying slide show that went with the original article was not reposted. Good thing Gawker used the slide show to come up with their own comical summary of the article.

Music Roundup

I just received two CDs I ordered from Amazon. The first was Z, by My Morning Jacket. Eri, Caro, and I listened to Eri's copy of the CD many times during our cross-country road trip and found it to be the perfect soundtrack through the long desert sections of our journey. Inspired by Mr. Jinxy's recent raves about the band, I decided to order my own copy, and it's great. The only drawback is that it's one of those protected CDs that aren't compatible with all computer music systems. Mine plays on the Windows Media Player but won't play on my iTunes. Boo.

Since I'm a sucker for the Amazon super shipping savings thing, I decided to spend an extra $13 to hit the $25 mark and save myself a whopping $5. I picked up Ghosts of the Great Highway, a 2003 release by Sun Kil Moon. This band was another road trip find for me, as Jon and I first heard them on a college radio station while driving down to the Jersey shore a couple of summers ago. Jon bought the CD and recommended it, although unfortunately for me, he is morally opposed to burning albums, so I finally got around to picking myself up a copy. I'm really enjoying it. Both My Morning Jacket and Sun Kil Moon are good, mellow rock bands. And I mean mellow in a bad-ass way, not in a pathetic whiny way like Barf Cab for Cutie or Barfboard Confessional, who I hope someday get in an emo band death match, although they probably wouldn't be able to kill each other and end up collaborating on a wussy song about the ordeal, with which will they will continue to torment me by its incessant playing on alternative radio. Ugh. Speaking of major suckage, do you know what else sucks? That new song by the Killers. I bought their last album, and although I liked a couple of the tracks, I wasn't overwhelmed. But the new song blows. The lyrics are ridiculous:

He doesn't look a thing like Jesus
But he talks like a gentlemen
Like you imagined when you were young

Um, right. Don't think I'll be buying the new album.

What right-wingers see when they read the New York Times

Tee hee!
My favorite altered headline is: Liberal Media Blasts Heartland with Deadly Heat Ray

via Freakgirl and GitM

Found

FOUND is a magazine that compiles accidentally discovered items, such as notes and pictures tucked into library books. The FOUND website features a Found Item of the day, like this confession note. We had our own find of the day yesterday, when my cousin found a folded up sheet of paper tucked in the corner of the reception room at Anthony's Pier 4. It was someone's (the bride's?) typewritten toast from a rehearsal dinner. My scanner is broken, so I'll just transcribe it here:

Thank you all for coming we are so honored that you are here to join us.

Sharon and Jimmy- I wanted to say a special thank you for everything-this is such a memorable night! Everything looks fabulous and your support this year and always has been incredible.

And I just have a little something for you, Matthew.

Six years ago today, a college sophomore left the golden state
He got to Emory and began to date the girl who tomorrow will become his mate

Now six wonderful years have past
With countless memories that will surely last

We now have a cozy one bedroom on the Upper East Side
With a flat screen television and a tv guide

We have a great time in New York City
Except for no Lakers, Raiders, and Dodgers- what a pity!

I know you are filled with California dreams
I present you this grooms cake to honor your favorite sports teams.

Okay, I realize that I am a bad person for making fun of some happy bride's attempt at poetry, but some of those rhymes were PAINFUL! Upper East Side, tv guide? New York City, what a pity? My cousins and I were cracking up. Note to self: in the future, when making a toast, avoid the temptation to use rhyming couplets.

Book Review: That book with a really long title

I finally finished reading the really long book with a really long title: No Matter How Much You Promise to Cook or Pay the Rent You Blew It Cauze Bill Bailey Ain't Never Coming Home Again, by Edgardo Vega Yunque. The book centers around the adventures of a young New Yorker, Vidamia Farrell, half Puerto Rican and half Irish-American, and the story begins when she decides to search for her birth father. She locates Bill Farrell and learns that he was a jazz prodigy who stopped playing piano after he lost two fingers in Vietnam, and is delighted to meet the tribe of vivacious, blonde, musical half-siblings. Although Vidamia is the protagonist, the novel often steers away from her, and each character who is introduced comes with 20 pages of family history and back stories ranging from Puerto Rico to the rural South. Some readers tire of such tactics, but I never got bored with the sidetracks. The first three quarters of the novel are a beautiful composition about family, identity, race, jazz, and New York City, and one can't help but adore the righteous Vidamia and the people she encounters, from her sweet Southern stepmother to her womanizing, bongo-playing grandfather. However, towards the end of the book a group of villains are introduced, and the tone darkens rapidly. Remember the shocking scene in American History X when Edward Norton stomps on that kid's head? Well, the worst scene is this book is about 100 times more graphic, disturbing, and violent. I bought a copy of the book as a birthday gift for a friend before I got to that section, and now I feel wary about giving it to her. Like, "here's this book that's wonderful and inspiring and lyrical, except for the brutal rape and murder scene that's so horrifying I almost threw up while I was reading it. Enjoy!"
In summary, I give this book a 9 out of 10 on the Eileen scale, but with two major caveats:
1. it's long and wanders off track a lot, and some people don't like that sort of storytelling
2. You might not be able to handle the bad parts- here's one of the reader comments from Amazon: "When I encountered the sexual violent scene I had to get up and walk away. As a vet I read through the Vietnam memories in a cathartic nod; but when the sexual violence was crammed into my face I put the book down. I no longer cared about the book's ending."

Weekend Report

Friday- Went out drinking at the local Southie bars with my sister Eri and friends- Yay! Ran into an ex- Boo! At least I didn't have a gigantic zit on my chin. Oh wait, I did had a gigantic zit on my chin. Double boo! Had fun anyways- Yay!

Saturday-

Eri and I ate lunch at New Ginza in Watertown. The sushi was excellent- my favorite roll had sweet potato tempura in the middle and fresh crabmeat on top. After lunch, we went to my grandparents' house and hung out with the family for a bit. That night, Eri, Jen, Mike, and I went to the Patriots preseason game against the Arizona Cardinals. We tailgated, we cheered, we mocked Kurt Warner "I don't care if he used to work in a grocery store, I hate him!" and Matt Leinhart "How's Paris? Hope you didn't catch any STDs!", and the Patriots won soundly. Eri purchased a throwback "Squish the Fish" t-shirt at the Pro Shop, which quickly became a crowd pleaser among the Pats fans in our section. Some drunk, obnoxious middle-aged dude was sitting right behind us, in addition to leering at all the girls in the section, he started loudly complaining about Corey Dillon (I frickin hate fans that heckle guys on the team that they're supposedly supporting. And seriously, Corey Dillon? Dude's a big, bad NFL running back. Hey mister, why don't you go tell him he's over the hill to his face, and then see what happens.) I was contemplating turning around and telling him to STFU, but he distracted me by spontaneously bursting into song. The tune? Afternoon Delight. Which we had been inexplicably singing in the car ride down. Sky rockets in flight...

Sunday- The big 60th anniversary party for my grandparents. First, there was a special mass at St. Jude's church in Waltham, and the reception was held at Anthony's Pier 4 in Boston...yes, the same Anthony's Pier 4 that the Boston teenagers went to in a Saturday Night Live skit. The party was great: several of my grandparents friends were in attendance, including college classmates of my grandmother's and my grandfather's best friend, as well as all sorts of family, including three cousins from Ireland. Guests brought old photos and shared funny stories. I spoke about the time I went to Ireland with my grandparents when I was 12 years old and my grandfather ran over my foot with the rental car. My sister Kerry estimated that my grandparents have eaten breakfast at Friendly's 200 times, and have stolen approximately 5000 packets of jam in the process. For dessert, we ate a strawberry and vanilla ice cream cake on a graham cracker crust with real whipped cream on top. Although I had to pop 15 Lactaid pills, it was the most delicious thing I've eaten in years and was worth the risk. Here's a family photo from the party:

60th anniversary

This weekend, my family will be celebrating my grandparents' 60th wedding anniversary. Amazing, huh? Both children of Irish immigrants, they grew up in the Boston area and met around the time of WWII- my grandfather was in the Army and my grandmother was an elementary school teacher. She once told me that she always knew when he was back home because all of the children in her classroom would get restless and start asking "Who is that soldier at the door?" They have four children, eight grandchildren, one great-granddaughter, and one more on the way (not mine, don't get any ideas....). My grandfather worked as a forensic chemist for the Massachusetts State Police and also obtained a law degree by attending law school at night on the G.I. Bill. My grandmother was one of the first graduates of Framingham State Teachers' College and taught elementary school in Waltham for decades. They both love traveling and have been everywhere, including adventurous places like Haiti, Colombia, and Russia during the Cold War. They are two very inspiring people and have taught by example the values of hard work, education, and open-mindedness. Here is their wedding photo:

Mexican fishermen rescued

Three Mexican fishermen have been rescued by a Taiwanese ship after drifting in the Pacific Ocean for approximately nine months. No word on whether or not a tiger was with them (Life of Pi, anyone?)

Apparently two other fishermen, depressed by their situation, jumped off the boat months ago and presumably drowned, but I can't help but wonder if the survivors ate more than raw fish and sea birds...

Haircut photos

I give you the 50's housewife:


"Hello, darling. I made lasagna for dinner. How about a gin and tonic?"





and the consultant, circa 2001:


"I think we need to come up with a proposal to mitigate potential pitfalls of the system."

College football preview

SI's Stewart Mandell to the anti-Notre Dame camp: Suck it, haters. Well, not exactly in those words.

Go Irish!

via Lis

Recipe- Mango Catfish Couscous

Despite my new 50s housewife hairdo (photos coming tomorrow, I promise), I abhor all household chores except for one- cooking. I love cooking, and have been on a recent kick to try new recipes, because normally I only make Mexican food, as my friend Phil once observed: "The Dunnes are the only Irish people I know who eat Mexican food every day." Last night, I made Mango Catfish Couscous. I found the recipe in a magazine for diabetics that I swiped from the Diabetes Research Unit on my floor at work. I've become a fan of the Diabetic Cooking magazine because most of the recipes are low sugar (obviously), low-fat, and only call for ingredients that A. I've heard of and B. are available at normal grocery stores. I was planning to switch the catfish for a different type of fish, because I've avoided catfish ever since the Great Catfish Food-Poisoning Incident of 1985, in which my father served the entire family undercooked fried catfish and we all got violently ill, with my mother ending up in the ER due to dehydration. Ah, good times.
Anyways, since then I've avoided the feline fish, and at the store I requested bluefish and they were all out, so I decided to give catfish the old college try. Without further ado, here's the recipe:

1 lb catfish fillet, cut into 2 inch pieces
1 ripe mango, peeled and sliced
2 small zucchini, cubed
2 small yellow squash, cubed
1/2 cup sliced green onions
1 red bell pepper, seeded and cubed
1 cup orange juice
3/4 cup vegetable broth
1/4 teaspoon paprika
1/4 teaspoon white pepper
1 teaspoon dried parsley
1 cup cooked couscous (I used a box of the instant stuff, which made about 2 cups)

1. Put all of the ingredients except for the couscous in a large pot and cook on medium-high heat for 30 minutes, stirring occasionally
2. Cook couscous and place 1/4 cup on a plate or shallow bowl. Top with catfish mixture.

It was really good, and easy to make, although all the chopping took a while. It made five servings, with a little leftover couscous because I made the entire box.

Weekend Report

Friday- I got a new haircut: chopped off about six inches, with bangs. Straightened, it looks stylish and more "consultant" than "grad student." If I let the natural curls have their way, it's very 50s housewife. After the haircut, I had dinner with Caro and Oscar at Casa Romero, a Mexican restaurant right near Newbury Street. Although it's a bit pricey, the food was delicious, the sangria superb, and the service excellent, so I'd highly recommend it. After that, we had drinks at Flash's, one of my favorite places for cocktails in the city.

Saturday- I took advantage of the beautiful weather and my proximity to the ocean by going for a run on the beach in the morning, then having a picnic lunch on Castle Island with a bunch of friends later on. We had a pleasant girly afternoon (nail salon + frozen yogurt) and then had pizza and beers at Phil and Sue's place. After that, I went to a crazy awesome party hosted by a French scientist. Approximately 100 people crammed into a tiny Beacon Hill apartment, about half of them French friends of the host and the other half international scientists working in Boston. I think there were only two other Americans at the party and I met both of them. The makeshift dance floor was packed all evening, with the music progressing from reggaeton to hip hop then French pop (a definite crowd-pleaser) followed by 80's, and finally salsa and merengue. I stayed until 4AM dancing with a cute Frenchman I met, but acted like a lady (ha) and took a taxi home alone at the end of the night.

Sunday- After sleeping in, I took advantage of tax free weekend and bought a new mop and cleaning supplies and put them to good use. Then, I relaxed at the beach for a couple of hours before heading into the lab, where I am right now, being entirely unproductive because my head is still a bit foggy from last night's revelry.

Freaky Friday links

Here are a couple of recent articles I found interesting:

Preserved prehistoric bodies found in Irish peat bogs. Cool! (via Frances)

Miniature cows! Don't get too excited; they're still pretty big.

Happy Friday, everyone.

Scientists gone wild

During college, several fellow biology majors and I formed a co-ed soccer team named Biohazard. Last night, four of us got together at The Sevens to share some food, drinks, and memories. It's funny to think that almost everyone who played on that team is now an M.D., a Ph.D. (or in the process), or went for the double whammy, the M.D./Ph.D. Justin thinks I should start a website called Thiscouldbeyourdoctor.com and post embarrassing photos from our old soccer parties. See that guy wearing a sundress and a bonnet drinking beer out of a scuba fin? He's performing your hip replacement surgery next week! Such a website might be a little too career-damaging for my tastes, so instead I'll post a photo from last night of Toshi, Jroo, Pags, and me:

The Second Grossest Thing That Ever Happened to Me

This afternoon, I heard a radio commercial for Water Country, the waterslide theme park located outside of Portsmouth, NH. It reminded me of a fateful trip I took to that same water park, back around 1993 or so. It was a hot, August day, and I was eagerly awaiting the annual trip to the water park. This year, I was determined to go down the Geronimo, the highest and steepest slide in the park. I have a mild fear of heights, which was much stronger when I was younger (for example, at my pre-school, there was a staircase like this that scared the bejeezus out of me, and I was so terrified of slipping and falling through the slats that the teacher would have to carry me to get me to go up or down it.) All day long, I frolicked in the wave pool and on the smaller slides until the time came to brave the Geronimo. I summoned my courage, and made my way through the line, slowly climbing up a three-story metal staircase not unlike the one that traumatized me as a toddler. Once at the top, I sat on the slide, folded my arms, crossed my legs at the ankles, leaned back, and down I went. Geronimo! It was thrilling. At the bottom of the slide, I stood up and picked my enormous wedgie. As the elation of the drop itself and the pride of my accomplishment wore off, I suddenly became aware of an uncomfortable sensation deep in my bowels, like I had to go number two. I hurried off to a restroom, sat down on the toilet, and pooed out about two liters of chlorinated pool water. Yes, I had conquered the almighty Geronimo, but I had also gotten a chlorine enema in the process.

And that’s the second grossest thing that ever happened to me.

(Reason #162 why I don’t have a boyfriend: I write about chlorine enemas on the internet.)

As for the first grossest thing that ever happened to me, I’ll never tell. Let’s just say it involved a latrine in Nicaragua, and leave it at that. And if you ever go down a really steep waterslide, in addition to crossing your legs, squeeze your buttcheeks together. Trust me.

Books!

I saw this meme on Brigita's blog and just had to add my $0.02. I have always been an avid reader, aside from a few years of college when binge drinking replaced reading as my favorite hobby. So, here goes:

A book that changed your life: Hmm.. The Hot Zone, by Richard Preston. I'm sure if I read it now, it would seem ridiculously sensationalistic, but at age 18, as a freshman biology major, it struck a chord with me and piqued my interest in infection disease and microbiology. That, and the fact that my student employment job in a Wetlands Ecology lab sucked big time, eventually caused to me drop my Environmental Sciences second major and decide that the nasty pathogens were my one true scientific love.

A book you've read more than once: Trite, I know, but I think I've read The Catcher in the Rye four times. The very first time I read it, around age 14, I loved it so much I immediately went back to the first page read it a second time. It seemed so real and refreshing, and so different from all the Judy Blume and whatnot I read as an adolescent (not that I didn't love AYTGIMM).

A book that made you laugh: Maybe I have a strange sense of humor, but Slaughterhouse Five literally (bad pun alert!) made me laugh out loud.

A book that made you cry: The Junk-Drawer Corner-Store Front-Porch Blues, by John R. Powers. It's not a well-known book at all (the author's The Unoriginal Sinner and the Ice-Cream God is much better) but features one of the two saddest occurrences in literature: 1. dead sibling 2. dead dog.

A book that you wish had been written and a book you wish had never been written: I've always wished for a modern, landmark coming of age novel with a female protagonist. You know, something along the lines of Catcher in the Rye, or A Separate Peace, or The Outsiders, but starring a girl. Everyone loves Jo from Little Women and Anne of Green Gables, but you have to admit, they're a bit behind the times.
As for a book that I wish had never been written, I'll go with Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil, because if the book were never written, the wretched movie would never have been made, and I would never have had to suffer through it.

Books you're currently reading: No Matter How Much You Promise to Cook or Pay the Rent You Blew It Cauze Bill Bailey Ain't Never Coming Home Again. It's fantastic. I'll write a review when I finish it.

A book you've been meaning to read: The Count of Monte Cristo. Has it ever happened to you that all of the sudden, the same thing keeps popping up all over the place? For example, I had never heard of Kawasaki Disease, until last Friday, when a classmate of mine told me that she wrote her grad school personal statement on it because she had it as a child. The next day, I was at a cookout and another friend of mine mentioned that she and her brother both had Kawasaki disease as children and were the examples in some medical textbook. Anyways, The Count of Monte Cristo has randomly come up in conversation several times over the past few months, and I keep meaning to check it out.

Oh yeah, I'm supposed to tag someone now....maybe some fellow bloggers who enjoy reading (Tricia? RT?) will volunteer.

Fashion tip for tall girls

I have a whole bunch of cute t-shirts I can't wear because they shrunk just enough to expose my midriff and reveal the dreaded muffin top syndrome. I don't know why I kept them, but now I'm glad I did, because I have discovered a remedy: buy a long tank top, wifebeater style (you can get them on the cheap at Target or Old Navy), and layer it under your t-shirt. Instant solution to the shrinkage problem!

Can you ever hear the word shrinkage and not think of George Castanza? Similarily, I can never say Milwuakee without pronouncing it Mil-eh-wah-kay, Alice Cooper style.

This is what happens when I don't have my morning coffee

At 12:14PM, I suddenly noticed that my shirt was on inside-out, and has been all day. It's a collared polo shirt, with buttons. I am an idiot. I wonder is everyone at work noticed and didn't say anything, or if they are just as oblivious as I am this morning. For future reference, if any of you ever see me wearing something inside-out or backwards, please tell me. It is not a deliberate fashion statement, it is the outcome of morning stupor plus general spaciness.

Weekend Report

Friday- Chowed down at my new favorite cheap Mexican joint, a tiny little shop called El Triunfo in the South End. I believe that the owners are actual from El Salavdor, due to the presence of pupusas on the menu. After that, I joined my fellow grad students for a Nerds Gone Wild night of celebration, as one of our brethren successfully defended his thesis that afternoon. Such occasions are joyous for two reasons: 1. you feel happy for your friend and 2. Participating in a 5, 6, or dear-God-no 7 year program with no finite ending can get depressing at times, and when someone you know actually finishes, it provides hope that yes, there is a light at the end of the tunnel, and someday, you too may finish. We started out sipping cocktails at the Red Fez and ended up playing drinking games into the wee hours at a friend's apartment. Specifically, I ended the night falling down in the street (because getting drunk, wearing high heels, and falling down is the new black) and passing out the in back of a taxi. Sweet.

Saturday- Did some shopping (new running shoes!) and went to Mike's 30th birthday party in the Ham. I partied like an eight-year old, stuffing my face with chips and cake and candy and hot dogs, and best of all, Framingham Bakery Pizza. Anyone from the Ham instantly recognizes the square, bready slices, ubiquitous at graduation parties and birthdays, and absolutely delicious. Then I told inappropriate jokes and we all made fun of a certain someone for owning a framed map of Mordor (if you don't know what that is, congratulations, you are not a nerd). I won't name names, but his first initial is M and he just turned 30. Later on, I watched Match Point, a Woody Allen movie that is different from most because it's not set in NYC, not a comedy, and not starring him. It's all about infidelity and murder in upper-class England, kind of like Gosford Park meets Closer, but not as good as either of those films. On thing in the movie's favor is that it stars Jonathan Rhys Meyers, who some of you may recall as the hot Irish coach in Bend it Like Beckham. Personally, I've never understood the attraction to Colin Farrell. I'd take Jonathan Rhys Meyers or Cillian Murphy over him anyday. I prefer my Irish heartthrobs with prominent cheekbones and good personal hygiene.

Sunday- Went for a run and laid out just long enough to get a sunburn (approximately 30 minutes). Then, I spent all day in the lab, which, although productive, was kind of a drag. My spirits were lifted when I received a phone call from Aimee D, who moved to San Francisco a year ago. She was in town for a wedding, so we met up for beers at the Publick House (no, not the Pubic House, as Aimee kept calling it) where are friend JR was working. Here's a goofy photo of us holding up Aimee's business card:

Three Things I'm in love with right now

1. The book I'm reading: No Matter How Much You Promise to Cook or Pay the Rent You Blew It Cauze Bill Bailey Ain't Never Coming Home Again, by Edgardo Vega Yunque. I'm only about a third of the way in, but I'm hooked. The novel is about a 12 year old girl, Vidamia Farrell, half-Puerto Rican, half Irish, full New Yorker, who decides that she wants to meet and get to know her father, a jazz pianist who sunk into depression after leaving two fingers behind in a rice patty in Vietnam. The only drawback to the novel is its absurdly long title, because it leads to conversations like these:

Me: I really like the book I'm reading.
Other person: What's it called?
Me: It has a really long title.
Other person: Well, what is it?
Me: It's like, really long, and now I can't remember all of it.
Other person (annoyed): Now I want to know. Go get the book and tell me what the title is.
Me: No Matter How Much You Promise to Cook or Pay the Rent You Blew It Cauze Bill Bailey Ain't Never Coming Home Again. Satisfied?
Other person (now understanding the dilemma): That is a really long title.

2. Newman's Own Virgin Limeade. So refreshing! Finally, another beverage to add to myrepertoiree of coffee, beer, diet Coke, and the occasional glass of water. Paul Newman, my kidneys thank you. Although I do believe that the "virgin" in the name of your product is completely unnecessary.

3. This video of a Norwegian band covering Total Eclipse of the Heart, with kitchen appliances substituting for percussion. (via Boing Boing)

Bad idea of the week

Guard dog chews up stuffed animals:

"He just went berserk," said Daniel Medley, general manager of the Wookey Hole Caves near Wells, England, where hundreds of bears were chewed up Tuesday night by the 6-year-old Doberman pinscher named Barney.

Barney ripped the head off a brown stuffed bear once owned by the young Presley during the attack, leaving fluffy stuffing and bits of bears' limbs and heads on the museum floor. The bear, named Mabel, was made in 1909 by the German manufacturer Steiff.

I'm sorry that Elvis' bear got ripped up, but don't you think asking a dog to guard a bunch of plush, fluffy toys is kind of dumb? What's next? Guard koala eats priceless eucalyptus? Guard cat destroys rare ball of catnip?

One year later

Today is a very special day: DCoE is officially one year old. Happy 1st birthday to my blog! Here's my very first post. Over the past year, I've learned that I am not a good a writer as I had previously believed (but I make myself feel better by telling myself that I deliberately use a "conversational" writing style), I read a lot of books and watch a lot of movies, I have a bizarre fascination with interspecies friendships, and try as I may, I just can't rise above indulging in celebrity gossip. Thanks to all five or six of you who read this thing, and especially to those of you who leave comments. Comments are like crack to me- they make me feel oh so popular and interesting. So far, I've enjoyed working on the blog, although lately things have been picking up at work, which means more science and less screwing around on the internet. Speaking of which, off I go- I will try to post a longer summary about the first year later on this week.

Shameless plug for my friend's band

Last night, I went to see the fabulous Muy Cansado at Bill's Bar. I ended up going by myself, which wasn't a big deal because I knew some people who were going to be there, but considering that the people I knew were the three younger siblings of my friend from the band, the rock star MULVEY,(who is also younger than me), I was definitely the geeky old person at a rock show. The youngest of the clan had my older sister as a teacher in high school, so she introduced me to her friends as "Ms. Dunne's sister."

Anyways, Muy Cansado is really good and you should check them out if you get a chance.

Hot enough for ya?

How hot is it?

So hot that ascending each floor to my third floor apartment is the climactic (and moral, perhaps) equivalent of descending to a lower level of Hades.

So hot that people aren't even using the vile cliche "It's not the heat, it's the humidity" because when it's 100 degrees, it is the damn heat.

So hot that the Red Sox are issuing warnings to fans after a pregnant lady died at the game over the weekend (although her death was probably due to a heart condition). Yikes.

Simpsonize yourself

You can create your own Simpsons character using The Simpsons Maker. I tried to design one that looked like me, but this was the best that I could come up with:



The setting and the hair aren't a bad match, but that outfit is definitely not me.
Hint: to save your cartoon, here's how to do a screen capture.

link via Max

Mel Gibson is a crazed anti-Semite, blah blah blah

Not meaning to beat a dead horse or anything, but if you haven't read the transcript from Mel Gibson's DUI, here it is.

Two words: sugar tits.

Weekend Report

Friday- Went to dinner with my parents, then went over Kim and Mike's, where I watched the season finale of The Office (hooray for Tivo) and a few of the webisodes.

Saturday- Played in a all-day soccer tournament in the blazing heat. Unfortunately, my team did not fare very well, but we had a good time nonetheless. Afterwards, we went out for beers and food, and later on hit the tournament party at Lir. Throughout the tournament, they videotape the games and then play a highlight reel during the party. Since I knew the guy videotaping, there was a lot of footage of me, including a close up of me misjudging a high ball and totally missing a header. I hate seeing myself on video- I'd much prefer to go through life unaware of my slouching problem and general awkwardness. This time wasn't quite as embarrassing as the time my neck fat appeared in a closeup on the jumbotron at Celtics game:

Oh, look, the camera is totally zoomed in on someone's neck fat. How awful! (camera pans out a little bit) Jeez, it's still up there. (camera pans out a little more and I notice that the neck fat belongs to someone wearing the same green jersey that I have on) Uh oh. (camera pans out a little more and oh yes, it's me up there) Nooooooooo!

Sunday- Acted like a good worker bee and spent all day in the lab. I did talk one of my coworkers into going out to lunch with me at Victoria's Diner; my bus passes by there every day and I've always been curious about it. It was a fairly standard diner, catering towards old people and workers from the surrounding warehouse district. I ate a roast turkey, stuffing, and cranberry sauce sandwich (yum!) but I'll have to try it again in the morning; breakfast seems to be the specialty.
Sunday night, I did another thing I've always wanted to do- I went to see Shakespeare on the Common, a free production on Boston Common that takes place every evening during the summer. This year's play is The Taming of the Shrew, and I really enjoyed the production. The slight modernization and Italian-Americanization (okay, I made that word up) of the plot kept things light and audience-friendly, but the adaptations did not stray too far from the bard's original work. The success of the play hinges on the performance of Petruchio, who must "tame" the shrew without coming across as a chauvinist pig, and lead actor Darren Pettie excels at this task. I'm glad I finally took advantage of the annual free summer Shakespeare production and would recommend it to other city-dwellers.

Why I love the Onion

Sparrow Aviation Administration Blames Collision On Failure To Detect Pane Of Glass: Mysterious Phenomenon Kills Millions Each Year

I especially love the pictures that go along with the article.

New cooking blog

Meg has a new blog, Meg's Way. It's all about cooking, with recipes, tips, and more. I've eaten many of Meg's delicacies (she makes a mean snickerdoodle) and I'm looking forward to trying out some of her recipes, once I get off my beer and hot dog kick.

Not quite The Answer

The Celtics signed undrafted rookie Kevin Pittsnogle, a center from West Virginia. He might not be half bad. And there's no way he can be worse than Scalabrine.

Musta got lost

Which makes me a bigger dork: the fact that I was genuinely thrilled to spot Peter Wolf in Copley last night, or the fact that I was really excited to write about it on my blog this morning?

Book reviews

I read two books last week, and these reviews contain spoilers (but not major ones), so be warned.

1. The Memory Keeper's Daughter, by Kim Edwards, is a novel whose entire plot is hinged upon one moment. In 1964, a set of twins are born with only three people in the room: the doctor and father, the wife and mother, who is unconscious, and the nurse. The baby boy is born healthy, but the doctor quickly recognizes the signs of Downs Syndrome in the baby girl. He hands her off to the nurse and gives her the address of a home to take the baby to, and when his wife regains consciousness, he tells her that the baby girl was born dead. Nowadays, such an action seems unbelievably cruel, but, in those times, this attitude towards Downs Syndrome were more common, and the doctor believed he was doing what was "best for everyone." Instead of following the doctor's orders, the nurse takes the baby girl, moves out of town, and raises her as her own daughter. The story follows the two families over the passing decades, and one sees how the outcome of the doctor's decision destroys one life and rejuvenates another.

2. Never Let Me Go, by Kazuo Ishiguro, is the story of Kathy, Ruth, and Tommy, three English children who grow up in an elite private school. Right away, the reader realizes that something deeper and more sinister is going on. They are not normal children, but clones created to serve as organ donors once they reach adulthood. Their lives are planned out for them- they will become "carers" until they begin their "donations," and after four donations, they "complete." Their true fates are never openly discussed, and instead the Kathy, Ruth, and Tommy grow up with a heartbreaking innocence. Once I figured out the whole cloning business, the plot felt a little bit like a one-trick pony and reminded me of the movie The Island, but the writing style, depth, and interaction among the characters was enough to keep me interested. Kathy, the narrator, is a keen observer of others, and always looking for the deeper meanings behind the words and actions of her friends, especially Ruth. I was impressed by how accurately the male author captures the tenuous, intense, and competitive friendships many girls have during their early teenage years. The one unanswered question the book left me with is why they accept their fate instead of trying to escape it or fight it.

I enjoyed both of these books but didn't particularly love either one of them. 7 out of 10 for both on the Eileen scale.

I just can't take it anymore

You guys, there's a bearded lady who rides my bus. A frickin BEARDED LADY. Every morning. I'm talking a foot-long, wispy, white Pai Mei beard. I try not to stare but end up concentrating so hard on not looking that my not looking is just as blatant and rude as staring would be. I cringe at the though of her sitting next to me. I'm sure the poor woman suffers from some sort of endocrine disorder or something, and I should feel sorry for her, and I do, but seriously, lady, trim that shit!

Weekend Report: NYC

I went to New York City this weekend for the second annual Girls' Trip with three friends from Framingham.

Thursday- I headed in a day early to catch up with college friends Amanda, Liz, and Beth. We met up at Amanda's apartment in the financial district, then went out for food and drinks on South St. Here we are looking very happy:


Friday- Convened with Yuki, Kim, and Tejal, and we checked into our hotel and went for a walk around Central Park. After that, we saw Bodies...the Exhibition, an exhibit on human anatomy using preserved cadavers and organs. I enjoyed it and would recommend it to anyone who isn't an M.D. or particularity squeamish. Our afternoon took a turn for the worse when we got trapped in a rainstorm, couldn't catch a cab, and ended up stuck on a boiling hot subway car due to a medical emergency in the train ahead of us. I'll never complain about the MBTA again...for all its glitches, it runs much more smoothly (and coolly)than the NYC metro. When we finally got out of the station, we were so exasperated that we sat down to eat in the first restaurant we came upon, a really crappy Mexican place in the Village. Back at the hotel, we lounged around watching T.V. and chatting. We tried to extract government secrets from Yuki (she designs nuclear weapons), but she stonewalled us, even denying offers like "If Kim tells you the name of her baby, will you tell us a government secret?" I wasn't feeling well and took a Nyquil, which somehow caused me to make a weird squeaking noise while I was sleeping.

Me, after suddenly jerking awake: Was I just making a weird squeaking noise?
Everyone: Yes.

Saturday- We ate breakfast at Popover Cafe, then shopped for a little while in the Village. On Friday, we had purchased discount tickets to the Saturday matinee of The Producers, so we went to see that. I liked it, and had the catchy "Springtime for Hitler" stuck in my head for the rest of the day. Although it was funny, it wasn't as good as I had expected, considering that it won 12 Tony awards. Some parts seemed too cliche- the horny old ladies, the gorgeous Swede, etc... After the show, we walked around in another rainstorm and had dinner at a Greek tapas restaurant. We met up with my friend Jonny and had drinks at a couple of places on 9th Ave.

Sunday- We awoke to discover a giant street fair right in front of our hotel. Oh joy, oh rapture! Blocks and blocks of cheap jewelry, purses, scarves, and other goodies! I bought a bunch of $2 necklaces and a pair of shoes.
We then headed to Chinatown for Dim Sum, which I had incorrectly believed involved a boiling pot of broth that you dip raw meat and vegetables into it. What I was imagining is called Hot Pot, and it's Japanese, whereas Dim Sum is Chinese and involves people pushing carts of food around the room and when you point at things, they put them on your table. Luckily we had Kim with us to identify the items, because the ladies pushing the food around were difficult to understand. I liked the pork buns and the sticky rice the best. After chowing down for a while, we left, and I caught the Chinatown bus back to Boston. Overall, it was a great weekend catching up with friends and enjoying New York.

Best day of the week

Thursdays have always been my favorite day of the week. I enjoy the anticipation of the weekend almost more than the weekend itself. Today is an especially good Thursday, because I'm leaving for New York City this afternoon on the Fung Wah- $15 each way, you can't beat it, even if the busses occasionally catch fire. Ern and I overheard an old man talking about the Chinatown bus the other day, he said "When you get on, they give you a fortune cookie. It says: I hope we make it to Hartford."

Have a good weekend, everyone!

Betty La Fea

Okay, this little news tidbit will probably be of interest only to my Peace Corps friends and anyone who routinely watches Latin American television. Several years ago, one telenovela captivated millions of viewers. The power of the novela is difficult to imagine unless one has witnessed it. Picture a country, with only one television station, that shows one show, every weeknight, from 8 to 9 P.M. Now imagine that every single person in that country watches said show; those with no electricity hook television sets up to car batteries, and those with no televisions watch the program at the neighbor's. Now multiply that country by every single country in Latin America. And keep in mind that there is no gender bias when it comes to the novelas, even the toughest, machete-wielding farmer tunes in. And the best part? These telenovelas only run for a few months, so interest never wanes before the finale. The most popular telenovela in history was Betty La Fea, a Colombian series about an ugly girl trying to make her way in the fashion industry. And guess what? ABC is doing an English version of the show, called Ugly Betty, this fall. It's produced by Salma Hayek. Even if it bombs in the U.S., I will be watching.

Chappelle Show's Greatest Hits

Okay, I realize that the Chappelle show is so three years ago and was overquoted by white frat boys to the point of annoyance, but it's still pretty darn funny. In case you missed it, here are the 11 Best Episodes.
My favorites are:
The Wayne Brady skit (#4)- During the previous season, the show mocked the "Whose Line is it Anyways?" comedian: "White people love Wayne Brady because he makes Bryant Gumbel look like Malcolm X." In this clip, evil Wayne Brady takes Dave for a night on the town. Best part? When he kills that cop.
and
The Prince skit (#1)- Prince and the Revolution take on Charlie and Eddie Murphy's pals in a game of hoops.

Big Dig

Most of you have probably heard about the woman who was killed when a concrete ceiling tile (ummm...I think there's a reason why ceilings aren't normally made of concrete) fell and killed a woman in one of Boston's new Big Dig tunnels.

Well, today, the Big Dig is the topic of my favorite part of The Onion, American Voices.

Who knew the Finns were so unhappy?

This video by The Complaints Choir of Helsinki is one of my new favorite things.

Idiots don't know which side to stand on escalators. The employment agency only needs Java programmers. Our ancestors could have picked a sunnier place to be.

I love it!

via I'm just sayin

The Nerdiest Guy on Earth

I am certainly no fashion diva, and was looking worse for the wear when I hopped on the T after my soccer game in the blazing heat. I was wearing my neon green "E. coli Happens" t-shirt and suffering from a visible case of buttsweat. However, the Nerdiest Guy on Earth stepped on the train and stole my thunder.

Fanny pack? Check.
Enormous backpack with wheels? Check.
Foam earplugs? Check.
Not one, but two huge Computer Programming textbooks which he proceeded to take out and study? Check.
An old-school, big, pink eraser? Check.

Alone, everything except the fanny pack and the foam earplugs could have been overlooked, but the combination was deadly. The worst part is that the guy was in his mid-thirties and clearly should have known better. That level of dorkiness can only be excused in teenagers and the elderly.

How's the weather up there?

Check out The Tallest Men And Women Who Lived On Earth. I like how the title clarifies "on Earth." I mean, where else would really tall people live? Neptune?

via Gorilla Mask

Weekend Report

Friday- Went out for a beer after work, which turned into several beers on an empty stomach, which resulted in me A. stopping by the workplace of a guy I have a crush on (he wasn't there, thank goodness), B. befriending some African man on the T and giving him my phone number after professing my love for Zindine Zidane, and C. getting completely lost in Jamaica Plain and showing up two hours late to the cookout I was going to. All in all, a pretty typical evening.

Saturday- I went down to Rhode Island to visit my friend Colann. She picked me up at the train station and we ended up going to a scooter rally. What's a scooter rally, you ask? Well, it's like a bike rally, with Vespas instead of Harleys. I had no idea of the extent of the scooter underworld until we arrived on the scene: hundreds of people (mostly tattooed punk types), camped out in a field, all with scooters. Colann participated in one event, in which a one person sits in a plastic sled attached to a scooter with a rope, and whomever gets pulled the farthest wins. Here are some pictures:


In case you're wondering what's going on in this one, yes, that is Colann and I sitting in a tractor in front of a large bonfire. Later on, we attempted to take the tractor for a joyride, but unfortunately (or fortunately, depending on your point of view) the battery was dead.

Sunday- My wanton ways finally caught up to me and I woke up with a nasty cold- sneezing, coughing, and cloudy-headed. I went back to Boston and lounged around in front of the air conditioner, loading up on Vitamin C. Boooo.

Here come the Irish

There are very high hopes for ND football this fall. Here's ESPN.com's team preview and an article about Weis's impact on the program. ND opens on the road against Georgie Tech on Sept. 2, but the game I'm eagerly awaiting is their home opener against Penn St. on Sept. 9. I've always liked the Nittany Lions (although I have no idea what Nittany means) and Joe Pa, so it should be a great matchup.

In other sporting news, Bruce Arena is out as the U.S. national soccer coach. I'm keeping my fingers crossed that Juergen Klinsmann, who did so well with the German team, will take the job. He's married to an American and lives in California, so it is a possibility.

Horror stories, laboratory style

The other day I received a junk email that said "Have you checked your cells today?" in the subject line. Something about it struck me as... ominous. It reminded me of one of those horror/ghost stories we used tell to scare each other when we were kids, the one with the babysitter who answers the phone and a strange voice says "Have you checked the children?" then she checks them and they're dead or something, I can't remember how it ended. They recently made a movie about it, When A Stranger Calls, which is actually a remake of a 1979 film of the same name. Apparently the original film is what spawned the ghost story used to scare legions of pre-teen girls during sleepover parties. Other scary tales included the one about the teenage couple in their car who hear a warning on the radio about a man with a hook who escaped from prison, and I bet you know what happens next. Cut to dead girlfriend and hook hanging on the side of the car. There was another story we used to tell about Wheelchair Mary, but I don't recall the details. There also existed an entire camp genre of ghost stories- the Indian women whose son got pushed of the cliff and her ghost haunts this very campsite and can be heard scratching on the tent walls at night, the girl who killed the other campers with a fork and sucked their blood, etc.
Anyways, now I'm rambling (too much iced coffee this morning), but for the record, I did check my cells and they were fine.

British Invasion

Rumor has it that cast members of the British version of The Office will be appearing on the U.S. version of the show in the upcoming season. I'm hoping for some sort of Gareth-Dwight office rivalry.

via GitM

Viva Colombia!

Yesterday, I purchased a ticket for Colombia. I'm meeting Carolina down there right after Christmas and staying for a couple of weeks. Wooohooo! (You know how I'm always broke and complaining that grad school takes forever? Well, this is why.) I've been feeling the wanderlust lately, and I'm hoping that this trip will curb my occasional urges to drop out of grad school and move to Venice and work in a hotel.
I'll have to brush up on my Spanish, which is still passable but has atrophied significantly over the past couple of years. I was still able to book my flight over the phone in Spanish, though.

p.s. RT, Australia will be my next big trip, I promise.
p.p.s. Although I am going to Medellin, try to refrain from the drug cartel jokes. They don't go over so well with the Colombians.

Zizou apologizes, sort of

During an interview with a French TV station, Zinedine Zidane did not reveal exactly what Marco Materazzi said to him to provoke the headbutt, but he said that it was an insult to his mother and sister (read translated transcript here).

For a more complete, and very interesting, profile of Zidane the man, check out this article written in 2004:

Zidane's occasional violence may well be a product of this internal conflict: the French-Algerian who is for ever suspended between cultures. But it is equally likely that, although in public he presents a serene and smiling face, he is underneath it all every bit the same hard nut he had to be to survive the mean streets of La Castellane. 'Nobody knows if Zidane is an angel or demon,' says the rock singer Jean-Louis Murat, who is himself a fan of the player. 'He smiles like Saint Teresa and grimaces like a serial killer.'

And here's an email one of my coworkers sent that sums up how most soccer fans (except Italian ones) feel about The Headbutt:

On the one hand, Zidane lost his self-control, sold out his teammates, besmirched his legacy, reversed the game's momentum, ruined France's positive karma, destroyed a nation's hope for a World Cup, detracted from the French team's larger symbolism as a force against racism, broadened the cultural divide in an ethnically torn country, and sullied the reputation of the world's most popular sport.

On the other hand, he dropped that Italian guy like a bitch.

P.S. Don't worry, Roger, despite my recent obsession with Zidane I haven't forgotten about you. Congratulations on winning your fourth Wimbledon.

Michael Bolton is following me

Has anyone else noticed the recent outbreak of Michael Bolton posters plaguing Boston? Who is behind this vile campaign? He's everywhere. At the dry cleaner. At the nail salon. At the pizza place. Michael Bolton, leave me alone!

My new phone and Ron Jeremy

Two notable events occurred yesterday. The first is that I got a new cell phone- the Razr, because I'm trendy like that. I've heard that they lose their charge very quickly, so I'll post an update on that later on in case anyone is interested in getting one.

The second is the discovery that one of my professors was friends with Ron Jeremy. Yes, that Ron Jeremy. Our department has a softball team, and after our game we went out for drinks. I don't remember exactly how it came up, but one of the faculty members told us that he and Ron Jeremy grew up in the same neighborhood in NYC. They once got into a pencil fight during Hebrew school (dirty!) and Ron Jeremy stabbed him, and he still has a bit of pencil lead embedded in his arm from the incident. Apparently they made amends, because Ron Jeremy attended his bar mitzvah. And no, they didn't know anything about Ron's..ahem...talents until after high school.

Madonna in concert

My friend Colann won two tickets off the radio to Madonna's show last night, and she was sick, so my roommate Ern and I ended up going. I've been a fan of Madonna's music for a long time but had never seen her in concert. Madonna has made a career out of danceable music, pushing the envelope, and making a spectacle of herself, and the Confessions Tour is vintage Madonna. She mocked world leaders, she crucified herself on a giant disco cross, she dressed in leather and humped dancers and inanimate objects, and she danced her ass off for two straight hours. The majority of the songs were from the new album, but she did throw in Like a Virgin and La Isla Bonita, as well as Ray of Light (my personal favorite of the evening) and Music, which she performed in a white suit a la Saturday Night Fever. The only song I didn't like was "I Love New York," not because I have a Bostonian inferiority complex about the Big Apple, but because I think the song is lame: "I don't like cities, but I like New York, Other places make me feel like a dork" C'mon, Madge, you can do better than that.
Most of the crowd was on their feet dancing (and sweating....yeah, Madonna doesn't do AC) the entire time, except for a stodgy man in a suit sitting behind us. We became enemies after he tapped me on the shoulder to complain that my purse almost hit him while I was dancing to Ray of Light. Dude, these are $165 seats, and it's a Madonna concert. Have fun or go home!

P-town

Lisa and I went to Provincetown for the weekend. For those of you not from Massachusetts, P-town is located on the very tip of Cape Cod and is very, very gay. Gayer than Elijah Wood. P-town is also very fun- it offers both beautiful beaches and a wild and crazy nightlife, and we indulged in both. We hit the beach, the pool, watched the World Cup, explained that we weren't a lesbian couple, and drank some delicious pina coladas, and ended up dancing to Madonna in a fog machine amid a sea of shirtless men. One of the highlights was the drag queen show- hilarious! They did impersonations of Celine Dion, Dolly Parton, Marilyn Monroe, Judy Garland, Michael Jackson ("only in America can a poor, black boy grown up and become a rich, white woman"), and my personal favorite, Cher in the Turn Back Time leotard. Here are some photos of Lis and me, and old lady getting harassed by a drag queen, and possibly the shadiest "help wanted" sign I've ever seen:

It was fun while it lasted.

So, the World Cup is over. I am currently feeling symptoms of withdrawal. No more sneaking out of work to drink beers and watch soccer? No more discussing all of the games and the drama with friends and coworkers? No more watching hot, sweaty men exchange jerseys? This was the first time I've followed a World Cup from start to finish. Last time around, the 5AM and 6AM game times prevented me from watching a lot of it live, and back in 1998, I don't know what I was doing, but I wasn't watching World Cup. This time, I loved it all....USA's tie against Italy, France's masterful play against Brazil, Ronaldinho's smile, Rooney's nutstomp, Christiano Ronaldo's wink, the English inevitable chokejob in PK's, the diving Italians, crazed fans from all over the world, amazing goals, and Zizou, headbutt and all.

Here are some thoughts on the tournament:

-Like I mentioned before, FIFA needs to do something about all the diving. It's become too much a part of the game.

-I hope the US gets better. It's not necessarily the coach's fault, but I think Bruce Arena should have used more young talent instead of sticking with players like Landon Donovan. McBride, Keller, and Clint Dempsey were the only players who performed consistently well for the Americans. I'm guessing that Dempsey won't be playing for the Revolution for too much longer...I'm sure one of the top European clubs will be wanting to snap him up.

-Kudos to Mayor Menino for throwing a World Cup party and broadcasting the game in City Hall Plaza. "Boston is an international city," said Mumbles. "Nothing has illustrated that more than the excitement of the World Cup."

-Did you catch Bill Clinton in the audience? Coolest Former President Ever.

-As for the match itself, although I love Italians, I don't like their soccer team. I can't stand their whining, cheating, and diving tactics. I'll give them this, though: they do have a stellar defense (only 2 goals allowed through the entire world cup), and those tall forwards are deadly on corner kicks. Plus, they're fairly easy on the eyes, even if their D & G ads border on the homoerotic.

-I like France's coach, because he's just so very French, but I don't think he should have subbed for Henry or Ribery.

-The headbutt heard round the world. So, maybe the Italian deserved it after giving Zidane a titty twister and allegedly making some sort of racist remark about Zizou's Algerian heritage ("dirty terrorist" is the current rumor), but it was a bad thing to do. Not because it was "vicious" or "classless" (Don't you love how the broadcasters kissed Z's butt all game and did a complete 180 after the headbutt? It reminded me of Joe Buck freaking out when Randy Moss fake-mooned the crowd.) but because he let his teammates down. He KNEW it was a guaranteed red card and he did it anyways. He's the captain, and he missed the end of a World Cup final because he couldn't control his temper. So, yeah, it was stupid, and it sucks that it happened in his last game ever. Seriously, though, a headbutt? Ridiculous...yet 100% badass.

-Goodbye, World Cup, I'll miss you. See you in South Africa in 2010.

List #29...Worst Movies I Actually Paid Money to See in the Theater

I am not a very picky person. I like almost every person I meet, beer I drink, food I eat, and movie I watch. However, the things that I dislike, I dislike vehemently. They say hate is a strong word. Well, I hate these movies:

6. Joe vs. The Volcano. Even my thirteen year old self didn't think this movie was funny. The whole beginning part when they portray how dull, monotonous, and tedious Joe's life is pre-volcano was so dull, monotonous, and tedious that it ruined the entire movie.
5. Maid in Manhattan. Yes, I saw this in the theater. Willingly. I have no idea why.
4. All three of the new Star Wars movies. They all sucked. But the one with Jar Jar Binks sucked the most.
3. Blair Witch Project. I would have liked this movie a lot more if the painfully annoying girl had died first.
2. Diary of a Mad Black Woman. I ended up seeing this movie because Million Dollar Baby was sold out. I should have just gone home instead.

and the movie I hate most of all in the entire world....

1. Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil. Utter and complete crap.

Happy weekend, everyone! I'm headed to P-town and then the Madonna concert on Monday night.

My lucky day

I knew today was going to be a good day when I put on a pair of (dirty) jeans and found a five dollar bill in the pocket. Then, I found this video of the old Be Like Mike Gatorade commercial on YouTube. Love it! I don't even mind that the song will now be stuck in my head for the rest of the day....Sometimes I dream, that he is me...
Then, my friend Colann emailed me to say she won two tickets to see Madonna on Monday night and asked if I wanted to go with her. Score!
Good things DO happen to bad people.

A tip for the gentlemen

Men, if you are starting to lose your hair, do yourself a favor, and buzz it! Trust me. It looks much better.

Hot:



Not hot:



Can you believe Andre Aggasi used to look like that?

As an aside, congratulations to the hot, bald Zinedine Zidane and the rest of the French team on reaching the World Cup finals. I hope you crush those crybaby Italians.

Nicaraguan presidential candidate dies

This update will likely be of interest solely to my Peace Corps friends, but there's a lot of political shakeup going on in Nicaragua. Herty Lewites, the mayor of Managua, was expelled from the FSLN (the original Sandinista party) last spring after challenging the leadership of Daniel Ortega. Herty formed a new political party, the Movimiento de Renovación Sandinista, and several former FSLN party members joined him. From the article:

Lewites' political profile may originally have been that of a traditional FSLN militant engaged in the anti-Somoza struggle, but his rupture with Daniel Ortega and the latter's eternal presidential candidacy earned him respect among two distinct groups. Sandinistas anxious not to continue eternally losing with the same candidate turned to him, as did many disillusioned Nicaraguans who were seeking a real change from an old politics defined by a pitiful choice between two caudillos: Arnoldo Alemán and Daniel Ortega himself, partners in a dark political enterprise that has multiplied corruption, impoverished the country and weakened its institutions.

Lewites died of a heart attack last week, and with the presidential election just a few months away, it isn't clear if his party is going to choose a new candidate. I was living in Nicaragua during the last presidential election, and the country's political fervor blows America's out of the water. Since the country's economy hasn't improved much over the last five years, it's entirely possible that a leftist candidate will be voted back into office.

Weekend Report

Friday- While waiting for my friends Jeff and Heather to arrive from a long road trip from West Virginia, I decided to meet up with my friend Bob and one of his coworkers for drinks. The good news? Bob had won $500 on a scratch ticket, so we drank a zillion beers, leading to conversations like this one:

Bob: Hey, what was that 80s movie with the dead guy?
Eileen and Mark: Weekend At Bernie's!
Bob: No, not that one.
Eileen and Mark: Weekend at Bernie's II!
Bob: No! Oh, now I remember. Animal House.
Eileen: What? Animal House doesn't feature a corpse.
Bob: I meant John Belushi- he's dead.
Mark: Well, you shouldn't have phrased it "80s movie with a dead guy," because that is clearly Weekend at Bernie's.

Saturday- Jeff went on a fishing trip for the bachelor party, so Heather and I did the Boston tourist thing: Freedom trail, swan boats, Faneuil Hall, North End. We also watched France defeat Brazil, stopped by a barbecue at Sue and Phil's house, and did a mini Southie bar tour.

Sunday- My Peace Corps friends Jake and Gina got hitched. We had a great time at the wedding, and were on our best behavior until the reception ended, at which point I got yelled at for playing the piano and Jeff berated for climbing up on the sign in front of the restaurant in an attempt to rearrange the letters spelling "Congratulations Gina and Jake" into something more comical. We ended up partying back at the hotel with the happy couple and their crazy friends into the wee hours.

Monday- We went up to the Crane's beach on the North Shore with Jeff's cousin and her four daughters, three of whom are little, hyper, and hilarious. As soon as I walked into the house, they pounced and made me an offer I couldn't refuse:

"Hi! We have an albino hedgehog named Billy Idol and our dad dyed him blue with food coloring! Wanna see?"

After a few hours at the beach, we had dinner in Newburyport and then drove the strip in Hampton Beach, NH, so Jeff and Heather had both the high and lowbrow New England summer experience.

Tuesday- Watched more World Cup, and attended my niece Nora's 1st birthday party. Isn't she cute?