Weekend Report: St. Patrick’s Day edition, Part I

Friday- Found out at all of my friends’ flights were cancelled due to the storm, so instead of having a dinner party with seven close friends from college, I got depressed, made snickerdoodles, drank wine, and watched Southie with my roommate. As for the movie, plotwise it leaves much to be desired, but does have several things in its favor: our house appears briefly during the opening sequence, and I St. and the Quencher feature prominently in the film. In addition to Donnie Walhberg (who was my favorite New Kid, by the way), Rose McGowan, Amanda Peet, and Job from Arrested Development star.


Saturday- St. Patrick’s Day! I began the day by shoveling off the back porch. Note the gigantic church that looms over my apartment. Sometimes I think it is beautiful; sometimes I think it is silently comdemning my sinfulness.

Ern and I had a full day of party preparation, so we stopped in at Tom English’s Cottage for a quick Guinness before we began our errands.
We met a man who gave us two tickets to the official St. Patrick’s Day Breakfast, hosted by Senator Jack Hart- it’s an annual roast in which all of the Boston politicians poke fun at each other. More on the in Part II.

Our first errand was to pick up the kegs from the liquor store that I am convinced it run by gypsies. I will not say which one, because I fear the gypsies and their curses. My theory is based on the following observations: the store employees all appear to be related to one another and they have dark curly hair and wear a lot of flashy gold jewelry. They speak what may be Romanian, and they get very offended if you mistake them as being Russia. However, if you ask what country they are from, they will avoid answering. See what I mean? Gypsies. Anyways, the power went out while I was in the store picking up the keg, so Head Gypsy looked at me and said “You come in the back room with me. I am afraid of the dark.” I laughed, until he handed me a flashlight and I realized he was not joking. I followed him, holding the flashlight to light up the path as we weaved through stacks and stacks of beer cases. A meowing cat startled me. “Do not be alarmed. Zat is Beast,” Gypsy Man informed me. When we made it back to the register with the kegs, a long line had formed, and now all of these people believed that I worked at the store (probably because I just came out of the storeroom holding a flashlight.) I was bombarded with questions: “Do you sell phone cards?” “Is the register working?” I informed them all that no, I did not work there, (do I look like a gypsy? No.) and Ern and I went on our merry way.

We came up with a plan to solicit help carrying the kegs up to our apartment. We could have done it ourselves - Grrrrl Power! - it just takes so darn long because we can only handle a couple of steps at a time. We went back into Tom English’s and spotted a couple of guys sitting by themselves. “Hey boys, how would you like to make ten dollars the easy way?” I asked. No deal. While Ern politely chatted with them, I had already decided that A. They were douchebag faces (they were.) and B. they weren’t going to help with the kegs. I spotted two guys at the bar with sweatshirts bearing the name of a construction company and decided they would make better targets. I tapped one on the shoulder and he turned around. “I have a proposition for you,” I told him. “Oh, would ye like me to take off me shirt?” he responded, in a thick Irish accent. “Nope. Well, maybe. But I’ll buy you and your friends a round of drinks if you help my roommate and me carry a keg up the stairs.” He smiled and quickly agreed. “Ye don’t have to buy me nothing nor pay me any money, and I’m not doing it because you’re attractive. I’m doing it because it’s the right thing to do.” He grabbed his friend and we headed out the door, and I informed him of the bad news: it’s two kegs, not one, and I live on the third floor. Good sports, they hauled both kegs up to the apartment and posed for a photo. I found out that one of them is from the town in Kerry where my cousins live, and knows my cousins and all their friends.

The rest of the day was taken up with grocery shopping, cleaning, and cooking, and we finally made it out and back to Tom’s (for the third time that day) to meet up with a few friends for late-night pints.

Do you know what I hate right now?

THIS SNOWSTORM.

It's screwing up everyone's travel plans, including my honored out-of-town guests.

St. Patrick's Day through the years

As you may have guessed (the name, the hair color, the freckles, the penchant for storytelling and fondness for drink), I come from an Irish-American family. In fact, I'm a dual citizen. St. Patrick's Day has always been a pretty big deal for me. (Here's a bio on the patron saint himself.) When I was a kid, we dyed everything that would absorb food coloring green (bagels, pancakes, milk, yogurt), listened to Irish music (my mom used to play piano and sing "Black Velvet Band"), and ate a traditional corned beef and cabbage boiled dinner. Then came college. I went to Notre Dame, so you can probably imagine what that was like.

Then came the year I found out that St. Patrick's Day is not that important to most people. I was in the Peace Corps in Nicaragua, and was thrilled to find out that a sole Irish pub had opened in Managua, complete with Irish owners who imported Guinness from Ireland. My Peace Corps friends and I made plans to meet up to celebrate. We were all staying in the same dingy hostel, and after eating breakfast, I put on a silly green outfit and found my friends in the lobby. "Okay! Let's go." They all looked confused, and announced their plans to go shopping, see a movie, stop by the office, etc..."But, ...but,... you guys said you wanted to go out for St. Patrick's Day?!" I asked, dumbfounded. "Um, we thought you meant at night." Apparently they were not aware of the fact that St. Patrick's Day is an All Day Drinking Event. My friend Kara must have noted the disappointment on my face and took pity on me, agreeing to go to the bar with me. I was expected the place to be packed; by the time we got there, it was already a couple of hours past noon. We walk in, and find the place empty, except for a lone Irish traveler sitting at the bar. His face lit up...Guinnesses all around! Kara and I proceeded to drink delicious Guinness for the rest of the afternoon, and the rest of our friends finally did show up, but by that point we were about done for the night.

Five years ago, I moved to Southie, and for the last four, I've been living right on the parade route. So, it's basically a requirement to throw a huge party every year. They've all somewhat blended together by now, but every year has its own special moments. Like the year my sister drank an entire bottle of whiskey and knocked over a platter of deviled eggs. Or the year an anonymous friend was spotted making out with a fireman in the hallway. Or the year we threw about 50 rolls of toilet paper off the back deck and into the trees. Or the year the guy I was dating broke my window. One of the most memorable years was the one when Eri wore this outfit. There was the year of Johnny B. Nasty (a local guy who got invited because he carried the kegs up the stairs, but he turned out to be really creepy) and the year my Peace Corps friends got into a fight with my grad school friends, as ridiculous as that sounds (Pacifists vs. Scientists?). Other than that, it's the same food, the same cheap beer, mostly the same people, and the same awesome Celtics jersey dress every year.

This year, four of my good friends from college are coming to visit. Yay!

Have a great St. Patrick's Day, everyone. Slainte!

A good keg bucket is hard to find

After an unfortunate incident involving a dead squirrel, I threw away my keg bucket. Now I need a new one for St. Patrick's Day. I checked Home Depot, Target, and Bed Bath and Beyond, all for naught (on the bright side, the experience did give me reason to use the phrase "all for naught"). Anyone know where I could purchase one? Big round plastic tub, about two feet high, two rope handles on the sides, and usually made of a brightly colored plastic.

Don't let me down, internet.

Old school Boston commercials

By popular request, here's the famous I Can Walk Like a Penguin commercial for the New England Aquarium. I didn't remember the little girl being quite so spastic.

Also, in my faulty memory, the "what makes an ocean wave wave" boy appeared in the same commercial. Not true. Here he is, pimping the Museum of Science: It's fun to find out. Hah! When I was a kid, hearing my own voice on those phones freaked the hell out of me.

Et tu, RT?

Happy 30th Birthday to my friend, former roommate, and blogger extraordinaire, Kristy!

This is a big year for those of us born in 1977.

Hmmm....I'd better hurry up and write a novel and climb Mount Kilimanjaro, otherwise I'm never going to fulfill my list of "Things I Want to Do Before I Turn 30" before October.

Book Review: On Beauty, by Zadie Smith

On Beauty is a novel about an interracial family from Wellington, a fictional college town just outside of Boston. Howard, the father, is a white, self-absorbed British art history professor, a lot like of Jeff Daniels’ pompous academic from The Squid and the Whale. His wife Kiki is an overweight black nurse from Floria who has never felt entirely comfortable in her husband’s circle, nor in the lily white liberal community that they call home. The eldest son, Jerome, rebels by becoming a Christian and befriending his father’s professional rival. The daughter, Zora, idolizes her father and longs to become part of his academic kingdom. The youngest son, Levi (in my head, his name is inexplicably pronounced like levee instead of like the jeans) loves hip-hop, tells everyone that he’s from Roxbury, and befriends a group of Haitian immigrants. The story focuses on the Besleys and the people who pass through their lives, with the themes of family, relationships, race, and identity prominently running throughout the novel.

The writing itself isn’t anything spectacular, and even though it’s a nitpick, the editors should have done a better job Americanizing the language of the British author. For example, American teenagers do not receive messages on their pagers, they get texts on their cell phones. There is also one incongruous chapter written from the point of view of a student in Howard's class that probably should have been omitted. The strength of the novel, however, lies in the characters themselves. Kiki and the Besley children (especially Levi) are all likeable and believable, and the alternation between skirmish and solidarity among the siblings is an authentic look at family life. Howard, however, is harder to pin down. The Besleys’ marriage is falling apart after Kiki discovers a previous infidelity, but at this point, it is hard to see how this couple ever got together in the first place. The description of academic life made me thankful I’m a scientist, where theories are tested by experimentation, and data generally trumps personality. In Wellington, haughty professors proclaim their opinions as if they were proven facts. Although the town is fictional, the book is full of references to Boston, which I enjoyed. Overall, I would say that On Beauty probably doesn’t live up to the praise that’s been heaped upon it (it has won several awards for fiction), but it is still an enjoyable and worthwhile read. I have a paperback copy if anyone wants to borrow it.

Links!

My friends Kevin and Karen are still traveling around the globe. They have amazing pictures posted from Easter Island and Antarctica posted on their blog. OMG, you guys, penguins!

The Fug Girls are still making me laugh, hard. Lindsay Lohan's tribute to Poison frontman Bret Michaels? Genius!

March Madness has begun. Here's a printable bracket from ESPN.com. I'm one of the few people who much prefer the NBA to college basketball, but I do like to bet. Out of school loyalty, I will be cheering for Notre Dame, although, to be honest, I've never been a huge fan of their program or style of play (at least now I won't be forced to listen to my ND fans rave about Chris Thomas. I couldn't STAND him as a player.) Or Mike Brey's love for mock turtlenecks. Upon first glance, I seriously thought this was a picture of Jerry Seinfeld, circa 1996. Last year, I won two of the three pools I entered, but I doubt I will get so lucky again. Also, for those of you who used to read the Daily Quickie, author Dan Shanoff has been running a quickie-style sports blog ever since he left ESPN.com last year.

Weekend Report- Fort Lauderdale edition

Friday- Spent the day lounging by the pool at my grandparents’ condo complex, where my tattoo (shamrock, lower back, I know…. how cliché) was the talk of the octogenarians. Had the early bird special for dinner at the local diner, then my grandmother and I went to Ladies’ Bingo Night. I won $2. And yes, I’m expecting my AARP membership in the mail any day now.

Saturday- Went to the beach with my grandparents, where I got the worst sunburn EVER. No, I’m not one of those idiots who doesn’t use sunscreen. I fall into an entirely separate category of idiot. The Extremely Pale tend to have a system for sunscreen application. I always put mine on in private, before I leave the house. That way, I can take my time, be thorough, and avoid any abrasive sand grains getting involved. Besides, no one needs to see all that pale jiggling. I go section by section: face, arms, legs, shoulders, chest, stomach, lower back, and save the upper back, the most burn-prone region of the body, for last. Saturday, the process went awry when I got distracted and completely forgot to put any sunscreen whatsoever on the sesnitive upper back quandrant. Add two and a half hours of midday sun, and boom…..I’m not even red, I’m fluorescent.

While at the beach, my grandparents and I met all sorts of people. I don’t know if it’s because people down south are friendlier, or if they are just lonelier, but everybody talks to you. First, a homesick mom of two young boys who moved from Massachusetts to Florida for her husband’s job. Next, a girl from Poland who teaches ESL in Cleveland. The Polish girl and I made plans to meet up that night, because apparently meeting a cute guy at the beach who wants to hang out is apparently outside my realm of. I spent the rest of the day back at the condo complex with the old timers. After dinner, I pick up the Polish girl in my grandmother's enormous light blue sedan, and she promptly informs me that she doesn’t drink but loves to go clubbing. "Wow, you’re like my exact opposite," I tell her. We go out for coffee then chec out a local club, which turns out to be packed with college kids celebrating SPRING BREAK 2007! GIVE IT UP EVERYBODY! WOOOOO! For some reason (lack of flannel?), I seem to be much more attractive to college boys now than I was when I attended college. Polish girl (who, it turns out is the same age as me) and I stay for a little while, laugh and have a good time, then escape the madness and I head back to the retiree bunker.

Sunday- Time for this little snowbird to fly back North. A Perfect Storm of travelers converge at the Ft. Lauderdale airport, with the spring breakers headed back to school and the Sunday to Sunday cruisers flying home. After the long lines and a packed flight, I made it home and rented Superman Returns. I won’t bother writing a full review, because most people who would see it probably already have. I liked it, though. Brandon Routh makes a good Superman and a better Clark Kent, and Kate Bosworth isn’t half bad as Lois Lane, although I hope she doesn’t digest her own heart before they finish filming the next one. (Sorry, was that in poor taste?) Not a perfect movie, but a decent one, and fun to watch, although I miss the original cheesy Fortress of Solitude.

Florida bound

I'm leaving today for a weekend trip to Ft. Lauderdale to visit my grandparents, who, along with 90% of the eldery in the Northeast, fly south every winter. Poolside shuffleboard and early bird specials, here I come!

Have a good weekend, everybody!

Boston Neighborhood Project: Fort Point

In case you were wondering what happened to my Boston Neighborhood Project, I covered Davis Square in January and hit Fort Point at the end of February. On a Sunday afternoon, I decided to go for a run along the new Harborwalk. The blue signs have been up for months, but I hadn’t yet investigated. I began at the Broadway T stop and proceeded along in front of Gillette (World Shaving Headquarters!), and continued along the canal.





I found the path to be a bit confusing, and signs like these didn’t help me much.






It also seems like the Harborwalk is not finished yet, because I encountered a lot of blank placards:









At the end of the path, I was in Fort Point, surrounded by giant brick buildings. The area was completely devoid of other life forms, except for a few seagulls. I have heard that there is another section of the Harborwalk that goes along the oceanfront near the courthouse, but either it doesn’t connect to the part I took, or I couldn’t figure it out. Overall, it was a bust. Too short for a good run, and it was creepy to be the sole pedestrian with the canal on one side and vast, empty parking lots on the other. I know Fort Point is being touted as an up-and-coming area in terms of real estate, but it still looks deserted to me, at least on the weekend. I poked around some of the condo complexes and didn’t find them very appealing- sure, they’re nice, but they seem pretty lonely and isolated. I hunted around for a coffee shop or a place to grab a snack, to no avail. Maybe the Harborwalk would be a nice spot to get out at lunchtime for people who work in the area, but if you want to get some fresh air along the waterfront on the weekend, I recommend Castle Island.

Last Thursday, my mom and I went to the new Institute for Contemporary Art. All of the good things I’ve heard about the architecture of the building are true, and I enjoyed the exhibits as well. I tried not to cringe when my mom repeatedly asked the security personnel to explain the exhibits to her. “I don’t get it- is it supposed to do something?” Apparently she doesn’t know that when it comes to modern art, you are supposed to feign understanding by staring at it pensively and quietly. The downside is that, despite the building being four stories tall, there isn’t much space devoted to the art galleries themselves. Also, it isn’t all that accessible via public transportation, and we ended up parking in one of the $7 lots. The good news? Most of the exibits we saw were wonderful, and Thursday nights admission is free. Yay!

After the museum, we went to dinner at Anthony’s Pier 4. Generally, the photos on the wall of all of the stars, politicians, and bigwigs that frequented the establishment in its heyday depress me. I mean, this place was once the hottest spot in the city, and now it’s frequented by high schoolers on their way to prom night in Revere. However, I was pleasantly surprised to see that the dining room was hopping, with what seemed like mostly business travelers. We even saw a table full of priests- something about a group of priests, all in their priestly garb, having dinner at a fancy restaurant, is comical. My mom embarrassed me once again by asking the waiter “What’s the cheapest wine you have?” (apparently she doesn’t know that you’re supposed to ask for the wine list, scan it quickly, then select the cheapest one). My mortification disappeared when he admitted that it was his first night working and that he had no idea, and then proceeded to pull a crumpled up wine list out of his pocket to show us the options. The food was excellent, and we had a table right next to the big bay window facing the ocean, so overall, it was a good night at Anthony’s. And I already feel guilty for making fun of my mom.

Article on Jesse Owens

ESPN.com has a feel-good article up on track legend Jesse Owens and the role a junior high coach played in his athletic development. It's an early chapter from a new biography by Jeremy Schaap entitled Triumph: The Untold Story of Jesse Owens and Hitler's Olympics.

Just reading this article made me crave DD's

The Boston Phoenix has an interesting article up about Boston's devotion to Dunkin Donuts, appropriately titled Choosing Our Religion: How one little post-war doughnut shop became synonymous with Boston’s identity.

How do I love Dunkin' Donuts? Let me count the ways....I love that they make your coffee for you (hey, if I'm paying for it, I don't want to put the sugar in myself. That's like making your own sandwich at a deli), I love that it's cheap and fast, I love that the coffee is weak and hot, I love a huge iced coffee on a hot summer day, I love a bagel sandwich on a lazy weekend morning, I love the commercials, I love standing in line with construction workers and executives, students and retirees, I love that the employees are employees and not "baristas," I love that they are omnipresent in this city, and most of all, I love the pumpkin muffins in the fall.

So, yeah, I'm the people that they're talking about in the article.

Weekend Report

Friday- I went over Kim and Mike’s and we ate Papa Ginos and rented a movie. A very bad movie: My Super Ex-Girlfriend. Do yourself a favor and don’t ever watch it. The pizza was good, though, and Kim gave me two bagfuls of shoes that don’t fit her anymore, so the evening did have some high points.

Saturday- Worked, played soccer, and entertained visitors. My friend Colann and her boyfriend Dave came up from Rhode Island for the night. We decided to stay local and had dinner at Café Porto Bello, a little piece of the North End right in Southie! When I queried my guests about their preferences for after dinner drinks, they enthusiastically opted for the “dive bar” category, so we went to the Quencher Tavern. If you picture a narrow sidestreet full of residential triple deckers, and the first floor of one of them has been converted into a bar, with a Tom Brady mural painted on what would normally be the living room window, and it's full of friendly drunk people, with a heavy dose of dirty old man, then you can imagine what the Quencher is like. I'd link to the website, but it doesn't have one. Here we are:

Sunday- Slept in, then I took advantage of the nice (well, for March) weather and went for a long run along Castle Island. I am finally getting back into the running again, after almost a year of combating plantar fasciitis. My multifaceted treatment included icing, stretching, and resting, cortisone injections, a ridiculous boot I have to wear at night, othrotic inserts, and a permanent ban on flip flops and flats. It’s just one of those chronic, lingering injuries that are best treated by time. And of course, it only became so severe because I foolishly ignored the pain and continued to run and play soccer for a few months after it started bothering me. I’m not going to train for another marathon anytime soon, but I finally feel ready to get back into my normal 5 mile, 4 days a week running routine. Anyways, I ran up to the base of the fort at Castle Island so I could catch a glimpse of the USS JFK, the aircraft carried that is making a farewell stop in Boston before it gets decommissioned. Man, that thing is gigantic. I saw it lit up at night driving across the Summer St. bridge and it was even more impressive.

I rented Babel, and I didn’t really like it. I mean, it's not My Super Ex-Girlfriend bad, but I’m tired of the whole “let’s cover a serious topic by creating a bunch of mini-storylines that somewhat intertwine, bonus points if they involve people of different ethnicities or nationalities” vein of moviemaking. (Traffic, Crash, Syriana…hmmm, a one-word title must be part of the format.) I’ve recently seen a couple of other movies (Pan’s Labyrinth, Children of Men) that blow Babel out of the water in terms of originality, creativity and the ability to captivate an audience. After seeing Babel, I’m really surprised that it was nominated for Best Picture. The acting was fine, but the characters and the movie seemed too formulaic for me.

Stuff to read

Chuck Klosterman does a New York Times piece on the NBA's most loveable weirdo, Gilbert Arenas.

Also, although I haven't seen, nor do I plan to see, the movie Black Snake Moan, Pajiba (a film commentary site I normally detest) rips the film a new rectum in the review. Basically, the reviewer calls it revolting, a fake-artsy soft-core porn filled with racist, sexist, and anti-Southern stereotypes. Which is exactly what I assumed after seeing the trailer. Christina Ricci has always grossed me out- I don't know why she's so revered in indie circles. She can't act, and if you take away her goth image, she's nothing more than another Hollywood surgeried-up anorexic.

Friday Fun

Hey, it's March! This means that vile February is over, and St. Patrick's Day is coming soon. In honor of he who drove the snakes from Ireland and in celebration of The Departed's Best Picture win, here's:

I'm Shippin' Up To Boston, (mp3) by the Dropkick Murphys for your downloading pleasure.

Bonus Track: My favorite Pogues tune, Tuesday Morning (mp3)

I was just introduced to Wonkette a snarky, DC website along the lines of Defamer and Gawker, except they make fun of politicians instead of celebrities. A favorite target is Rick Santorum (or Rick Sanatorium, as he is known in some parts, i.e. my brain), the Pennsylvania Republican who lost his Senate seat in the last round of elections. Feast your eyes upon this glorious photo of Sanatorium giving his concession speech, with his family at his side.:

Aside from the son inadvertantly (or deliberately?) flipping the bird to the nation while pushing up his glasses, the crying daughter is holding a doll who is wearing the same dress that she is. You can see it better here. Good thing I didn't give up making fun of children for Lent.

Lastly, someone made a response to SNL's hilarious "Dick in a Box" video: My Box in a Box

Two of my favorite kinds of news stories

1. A new interspecies friendship....baby orangutans and tiger cubs are playmates at an Indonesian zoo. The cuteness! It burns!

(Two people actually emailed the story to me.)

2. New species discovered. In a five year survey of fish markets in Indonesia, scientists have identified twenty new species of sharks and rays. I can't help but think of the crazy-looking shark from the Life Aquatic, but, unfortunately, I could not find a picture of it. You have failed me, Google Image.

The HPV vaccine

Warning: Rant Ahead

Okay, so yesterday I noticed a survey on Universal Hub that asked whether or not Massachusetts should require the cervical cancer vaccine. I thought that this was odd; I mean, really, who would opine against something that prevents cancer? I logged my vote and was stunned to see the “no’s” winning. WHAT? (spoken in incredulous, Borat- voice). Seriously, who likes cancer?

As a microbiologist who specializes in infectious disease (yes, I know I’m only a grad student, but I know my stuff when it comes to nasty pathogens.) , I find it highly upsetting that people would be opposed to this vaccination program. HPV (human papilloma virus) is a serious problem in the United States. Here's an article with some good information about the disease, the vaccine, and infections rates, which vary from 1 in 2 to 1 in 5 in the U.S. HPV is the major cause of cervical cancer, which kills 300,000 women a year worldwide. The vaccine prevents HPV infection and therefore blocks the major cause of cervical cancer. Really, that’s all you need to know: Cancer bad. Vaccine block cancer. Vaccine good.

So, why are people against it?

There seem to be two major arguments. The first is of the "it's just a money maker for Merck" vein of skepticism. Or people who are opposed to vaccination in general (but that's a rant for another day). Yes, Merck will make money on the HPV vaccine, but Merck spent millions of dollars in funding research and development in order to create the vaccine. And it works. And it's a lot cheaper (and far more pleasant) to get a vaccine than to undergo treatment for cancer.

The second, and the one that really makes me angry, is the "it will encourage teenage girls to have sex" line of opposition. It's the same ridiculous argument that was used against sex ed programs the late 80s when AIDS came on the scene. Talking about sex, or STDs, does not encourage people to have pre-martial sex. Let's get realistic. Currently, 24.5% of girls ages 14 to 19 in the United States are infected with HPV. Like it or not, many teenagers have sex. Vaccinating them against HPV prevents them from developing a common and deadly form of cancer. Really, what's not to like about this plan? Vaccinate the population, reduce cancer rates. Does the opposition prefer that those sinful girls will get cancer? Wouldn't that teach them a lesson! Would these same people be opposed to an HIV vaccine, if it existed? "Well, they shouldn't be having sex anyways." Grrrr....

Shiner update

The eye feels better, looks worse.

UPDATE: The correct answer for how I got my black eye is....

D. Lost my balance and fell while removing my shoes.

Congratulations to Kara and Tricia, the only two to guess correctly. Here's what happened*....I was wearing high-heeled boots, and instead of sitting down to remove them, I stood on my right foot, lifted up my left leg, and bent forward to undo the zipper on the left boot. Then, I lost my balance, pitched forward, and face planted on the floor. Because I'm awesome.

*Yes, I was drunk at the time. I don't know if that makes the story more or less embarassing.

To balance out the gross bruise pictures, here's one of Caro, José, and me enjoying a magnificent yacht of sushi. Carolina gave her first departmental seminar yesterday, so we celebrated by having dinner at Typhoon.

Weekend Report: Black Eye Edition

I had a fun weekend, up to my usual antics- meeting up with friends, playing soccer, watching movies. Watched the Oscars (Good show, huh? I liked Ellen as a host and thought the Will Ferrell song was hilarious. Could have done without Celine, though. And all of the flesh-toned and grey dresses. I did like Penelope Cruz's though. Isla Fisher did it right in a deep green dress. Flesh tones wash everyone out. How jealous is Beyonce over Jennifer Hudson's success? Very, I bet. And how fabulous does Helen Mirren look for her age? Okay, that's enough.) .

I got a black eye.

Guess how?

A. Slipped on ice and landed on my face.
B. Banged my forehead on the kitchen counter while sneezing.
C. Slammed into the wall playing indoor soccer.
D. Lost my balance and fell while removing my shoes.
E. Fisticuffs!

F. I have no recollection.

Movie Review: Children of Men

I watched Children of Men this weekend. From Mexican directior Alfonso Cuarón, Children of Men is a dark tale set in futuristic England. Violence, terrorism, and mayhem are barely contained by a near-police state. Illegal immigrants are kept in cages and tortured. And most troubling of all, women have been infertile for the past 18 years. Not a single baby born on Earth. The delicious Clive Owen is Theo Faron, the story’s hero. Depressed by the state of the world, he seeks solace in booze and in the company of an old friend, an aging hippie hilariously portrayed by Michael Caine.
Theo’s life gets shaken up when his ex-wife, a leader of an underground revolutionary movement, contacts him and asks him for a favor. She wants him to transport a young, female refugee to the coast. The catch? The girl is pregnant.
I won’t give away any more of the plot, but the movie soon turns into a long chase, followed by a visceral urban warfare scene It’s intense, and I wasn’t really expecting an action film. I did like it, though. Some of it reminded me a bit of 28 Days Later, or V for Vendetta (why are these futuristic disaster movies always set in England?) , and some of it is more biblical in allusion, like when Kee reveals her miraculous pregnancy to Theo in a barn.

A black eye to match my black soul.

I have nothing interesting to say, other than the fact that I am currently sporting one heck of a shiner. And a fat lip to boot.

As for what happened? Hmmm, it's like the lamest, dumbest thing ever. The truth need not be revealed. I am clumsy and ridiculous.

I'll post a photo in a day or two when it ripens.

Sad day in Boston sports

RIP, Dennis Johnson. Here's a YouTube clip of one of your best moments. (As an aside, you know how the sports leagues occasionally have Throwback Jersey games? I'm hoping for a "NBA Throwback Shorts Day" as well as an "NFL Throwback Hemet Day.")

Also, looks like Corey Dillon plans to retire instead of coming back to play another season for the Patriots.

Odds and ends

I watched An Inconvenient Truth earlier this week. It's not quite what I expected (I was anticipating more of a Michael Moore-type documentary, and it is not like that at all.)- basically, it's a video of Al Gore giving a powerpoint presentation on global warming. It is, however, a very informative and interesting (as well as frightening) presentation. He is very convincing, because he relies on scientific data and presents it in a clear manner that makes it easy for the audience to understand. Anyone who gives presentations on technical topics would be impressed.

and now onto the frivolity.....

Something I hate...when someone asks to look at your cell phone and you have to try to slyly wipe off the face grease before you hand it to them. I never noticed it as much until I got the Razr- something about the wide, smooth, metallic surface is a magnet for face grease. Gross.

I don't like clowns much, either, but this is taking things too far. (Tragic, indeed, but I laughed out loud when I read the headline. So will you. See you in hell.)

Lastly, for the past couple of weeks there has been a HUGE spike in the number of people looking at my blog (I can track it using Google Analytics) and I just figured out why. People googling Ralph Fiennes and spelling his name wrong (Ray Fines) are all getting sent to this boring post of mine. Like, hundreds of people. Why is everyone googling Ralph Fiennes all of the sudden? Oh, because a stewardess was fired for initiating him into the Mile High Club. DIRTY!

A tip for the financially foolish

I am notoriously bad with money. Like "oops, my rent check bounced" bad. But, yesterday, I finally did something right. I called up my credit card company and told them that if they didn't lower my APR, I was going to do a balance transfer to a new card and close my account. In truth, it sounded much less assertive and more like this: "So, I was wondering about something. I noticed that my APR is really high, and I keep getting all of these credit card offers in the mail. I am considering about doing a balance transfer and closing this account. I thought I'd check with you first. Is there any way you could possibly lower my APR?"

BINGO! APR reduced from 18.99% (I told you it was high) to 9.99% - that's almost cutting it in half! It's going to save me like $300 a year in interest.

Yes, I do realize I should have done this years ago.

Guess who just got Police tickets?

This girl!

Caro and I snagged tickets to the Sunday night show at Fenway Park.

In celebration, here's Canary in a Coalmine. (Right click and save.)

Is anyone downloading the tracks I've been posting? Are they working OK? I think I may be getting a bit carried away with my new music hosting abilities.

NBA All-Star Moments

The game wasn't very exciting, but here are some of the best moments, courtesy of YouTube.

Charles Barkley races a 67 year old ref. Question: How much do I love Charles Barkley? Answer: a lot.

Shaq, LeBron, and Dwight Howard breakdance. I like it when Shaq makes Howard's jersey move like he has an alien in his stomach.

Dunk contest:

Gerald Green's first and best dunk. (I do think the judges were throwing a bone to the lowly Celtics by letting him win.)

Dwight Howard slaps a sticker of himself at the top of the backboard. Impressive. Barkley calls MJ "the Russian judge" for only giving him an 8.

I have a special place in my heart for dunk contests because I once participated in one. In college, there was an annual all-night sports tournament called Late Night Olympics, and between events, they have various activities to keep everyone entertained. One of them was a dunk contest. They lowered the rim from 10 feet to 9 feet for the guys and 8 feet for the girls. It was the perfect height, because it was high enough to be challenging (I am 5'9" and was the shortest participant), but low enough so you could screw around a bit and still pull of the dunk. My friend Lauren and I competed against a few behemoth members of the women's varsity volleyball team. Luckily, before the competition, one of the guys took a shining to us and gave us some tips. "It's all about the flair, ladies! Be creative! Hang on the rim!" We cracked ourselves up practicing some of the typical show-off moves.

When the contest began, there were about 500 people watching, so there was a distinct potential for epic embarrassment. The volleyball mammoths just did straight-up dunks, whereas Lauren and I got fancy...spinning in the air, slapping the backboard, or slamming the ball off the ground to catch it in the air for the dunk. The judges loved our stuff. She came in first and I came in second place, in what was the highlight of my basketball career.

Presidents' Day Pop Quiz

Okay, everyone, take out a pen and piece of paper and write down the names of as many U.S. Presidents as you can remember. No cheating. Ten minute time limit.

Done?

Here's the answer.

I got 23. The 19th century was kind of a blur for me.

Don't look at the comments until after you've finished, so we can discuss some names there.

Weekend Report

Friday- Met up for drinks at my most hated bar in Boston, Harvard Gardens. I’ve hated that place and refused to go there ever since they wouldn’t serve me a few years ago just because I was wearing a blinking visor, tank top, flip flops, and shorts. Hey, it was 4th of July and about 105ºC out. And I’m a sucker for the glow necklaces and blinking accessories that are generally available for purchase during celebrations of our nation’s independence. So shiny and bright! Harvard Gardens snubbed my patriotism and I’m still angry. Grrrrrrr. Anyways, I was tricked into going there, proving that not only am I gullible, but also that I have no integrity.

Saturday- After spending the good part of the morning freeing my car from a sheet of ice (it required three persons, a burlap sack, and a file folder to get it out), I drove down to Newport and to meet a psychic at Applebee’s. No, I am not kidding. I’ve always wanted to go to a psychic, for pure curiosity’s sake, and one was recommended to me by a friend in Newport. Perfect excuse for a day trip. The psychic’s name was Darlene, she’s Cape Verdean, and she communicates with angels, who apparently suggested Applebee’s. The other two friends I went with (with whom I went….oh, proper grammar is so laborious sometimes) enjoyed it a lot more, and definitely had a few “how did she know that?!?” moments of amazement. Mine, however, was a bust. The couple of times she tried to guess things about me, she was way off. Like “You work in an office.” “No, I work in a laboratory.” “Well, to me, it looks like an office.” Her predictions were on the vague side. Changes are coming, you will be happy, etc…So, my curiosity has been satisfied, but I don’t think it’s something I’ll ever spend my money on again. Maybe I’m just disappointed that she didn’t predict that I was destined for greatness.

After the psychic readings, we tooled around the city a bit, and although it was cold, it was a beautiful, sunny day. I love going to the beach in the winter. New England winters are much more tolerable than those I spent in the Midwest; they aren't any warmer, but at least the sun comes out every once in a while. I hated the months of gray, bleak skies in Indiana.

I played soccer Saturday night and I'm still sore today from getting slammed into the boards. I can't complain, because I do it to people ALL THE TIME. Slamming people into the boards is the best part about playing indoor soccer.

Sunday- I woke up early, finished a book (I Capture the Castle….it was great; I’ll write about it later.), watched a German movie about a neurotic cook called Mostly Martha, made myself a pancake breakfast, but still couldn’t shake the blue feeling I had from the book’s sad ending. The main character reminded me a little of myself, in that her reality rarely lives up to her imagination. I got in the car and turned on the engine, and the song "Everybody Plays the Fool" was playing on the radio (here's the original Main Ingredient version...did you know that Cuba Gooding, the father of Cuba Gooding Jr., was their lead singer? Yeah, me neither.), which struck me as rather appropriate.

However, spending the afternoon with my adorable nieces cheered me up. Even though I almost accidentally killed one of them in front of my sister and brother-in-law. Oops. Babies are squirmy and unpredictable.

Later on, Ern and I met up with Maria at the recently remodeled Playwright and then hit Tom English’s when the crowd got too much for us.

V Day Party Recap

Due to the shite weather, we had a lower turnout to the party than we expected, but still had a good time. A bunch of my coworkers came, along with several friends of mine and Ern. For no good reason, Ern and I decided to dress like 50's housewives. We kept to the pink and red theme by serving rum punch, cosmos, and a delicious and easy-to-make champagne punch: 1 bottle champagne, 2L ginger ale, 1 package frozen strawberries, and a splash of grenadine. Guests entertained themselves by performing magic tricks with beer bottles and teaching the forgein scientists the middle school baseball terminology for makeouts (second base = boob touching, etc...).

The highlight of the party was the no hands cupcake eating contest, which was much more difficult that it sounds, especially if you start laughing and chunks of cupcake fly out of your mouth and you have to locate and continue eating them. Team Chocolate won, but they cheated, so Team Vanilla captured the true championship.

And because it's Friday and I'm in a good mood, here's a delightful love song for your downloading pleasure.

Queen of the Surface Streets, by Devotchka:

I don't need the money
I couldn't care
'Cause everything I want is standing right here
I would live on the street in a cardboard shack
Just to worship your feet and the curve of your back
You'll be my only preoccupation on a permanent vacation
Now I will move these rocks for you my love
I will tear them up out of the Earth
And I will bend my spine 'til it's quitting time
'Cause I know what your love is worth

Another Fung Wah bites the dust

The Fire Bus crashes again, this time on an icy highway.

Hey, as long as they keep charging $15 for a ride to New York City, I'll keep putting my safety in jeapordy.

via Universal Hub

Dogs and cats living together!

It's been too long time since an interspecies friendship made the news. Here's the latest- mama kitty adopts puppy Rottweiler.

Not quite as exciting as "hog befriends antelope." Nevertheless, it warms my cold little heart.

NFL Pro Bowl Photos

I'll get some Valentine's party photos up soon, but for now, here are some sweet pictures my friend Buddah took at the Pro Bowl in Hawaii last weekend. Looks like having a press pass gets you pretty close to the action.

The Love Mix

For the underlined tracks, left click and save to download. Enjoy!

1. The Beatles - All You Need Is Love
2. Al Green - Love and Happiness
3. Barry White - Can't Get Enough of Your Love, Babe
4. The Partridge Family - I Think I Love You
5. The Arcade Fire - Crown of Love
6. Bloc Party - This Modern Love
7. Fleetwood Mac - Say You Love Me
8. Jamiroquai - Love Foolosophy
9. Madonna - Forbidden Love
10. Pearl Jam - State of Love and Trust
11. Talking Heads - Love-Building on Fire
12. Frank Zappa - Dirty Love
13. The Pixies - La la Love You
14. Beck - Think I'm in Love
15. The Joy Division - Love Will Tear Us Apart
16. Pat Benetar - Love is a Battlefield
17. LL Cool J - I Need Love
18. Stevie Wonder - I Just Called to Say I Love You

Special thanks to Mr. Jinxy for technical support. Let me know if you experience any problems with the downloads- this whole music hosting is new for me.

Happy VD

I was going to write this long post about why I didn't have a boyfriend (you know, with reasons such as "general weirdness," "frequent public consumption of hot dogs," and "when the rest of you were passing notes and holding hands in the hallways, I looked like this, so let's just say I got off to a late start when it comes to romance.") but it was starting to sound more sad than funny, so I bagged it.

Plus, I was too busy preparing for tonight's party, which was finally dubbed "Love Potion No. 597: Valentine's Day Cocktail Party, a couple-free event." Or something like that. Ern baked about a thousand mini cupcakes last night, and I contributed by making a kick-ass mix tape ("mix CD" just doesn't have the same ring to it) and working on some games and decorations. I hope the crap weather won't keep people away.

So, Happy Valentine's Day to all the lovers and the loveless out there.

A lifetime in cakes

Check out this hilarious photo series of homemade cakes that a guy's mom created for his birthday every year- it's like an 80's time capsule. I especially like the South Korea one.

via Freakgirl

Weekend Report

Friday- Got a haircut. Nothing drastic, but the dry, cold weather coupled with the fact that I hadn’t had a haircut in six months meant that I had some major frizz going on. Total scientist hair. Needed to be remedied. Here’s the result:

I kinda look like I have man hands in this picture. I don't. Honest.

After the haircut, I met up with Ern and the recently engaged Jon and Heather for margaritas. Here they are (okay everyone, say “Awwwww.”):

Saturday- Work, errands, soccer. I got home to find a rowdy game of Trivial Pursuit taking place in the living room, so I joined in.

Sunday- Spent all day cleaning my apartment, then Caro and I went to see The Cat Empire at the Paradise. They're an Australian rock group that plays an upbeat, funky, ska and Latin influenced pop. I heard the song "Sly" on the radio and bought their latest album, Two Shoes, a couple of weeks ago. I brought it into the lab to listen to, and it became popular among my co-workers, especially a middle-aged man from India: "What is this music? It is cool!"

The concert was so much FUN! If you ever get a chance to see them live, do so. They have a gorgeous and charismatic frontman, a trumpet player who also sings wonderfully, and a stand-up bass, as well as a drummer, keyboardist, and some dude with turntables and giant headphones. They'll make you want to pound beers and jump on the dance floor with a bunch of sweaty Australians. (Apparently, they are quite popular in their homeland, because the Paradise was packed with Australians who were going nuts through the whole show.)

Southie backyard of death

This afternoon, I saw a hawk eating a seagull it had killed in my backyard. Simultaneously gross and fascinating. I crept as close as I dared and took a picture with my zoom lens. I was afraid that if I got any closer, the hawk would think I was going after his lunchtime snack and try to gouge my eyes out.

I wonder if the hawk had already found the previous deceased resident of the backyard.

Book Review: Me Talk Pretty One Day

My non-fiction kick continues. I have always heard good things about David Sedaris, but had never read one of his books before. Me Talk Pretty One Day is a collection of humorous anecdotes from the author’s life, and the casual, conversational writing style make it feel more like a series of articles or long blog post (albeit a very well-written blog without any pictures of cats or babies) than a book. It’s a quick and highly entertaining read. I liked the chapter in which Sedaris joins a crew of movers in NYC that is composed of a schizophrenic Russian, a paroled murderer, and is led by a communist boss, who tells his new employee “Sure, I might happen to own the truck, but that doesn't make me any more valuable than the next guy. If I'm better than you, it's only because I'm Irish.”

However, the best section of the book and the inspiration for the title, details Sedaris’ attempts at learning to speak French while living in Paris. Anyone who has suffered the frustrations of learning a foreign language can easily relate. The class is discussing Easter traditions, and a Muslim student from Morocco announces that she doesn’t know what Easter is. The teacher asks the class to explain. Because no one knows the French words for crucifixion and resurrection, they tell her things like “the son of your father died on two morsels of wood.” Her confusion grows when she learns that, in addition to the whole death thing, a rabbit brings chocolate eggs. The author himself is stunned to discover than in France, instead of the Easter bunny, a bell flies in from Rome to deliver the chocolates.

Overall, I don’t think Sedaris’ life is that much funnier than anyone else’s, he is just more astute at noticing the everyday absurdities and portraying them in a comical light. For example, yesterday, my roommate and I were running some errands in Framingham and stopped by my parents’ house. “Hey, there’s a Busch Light can in your front yard,” she observes. “Oh, that’s where my dad lines up the recycling and sometimes he misses a can or two,” I explain. We open the door, and are immediately greeted by the family dog, who is wearing one of those enormous conehead collars and keeps slamming into furniture. It’s late afternoon, but my mother is still in her pajamas. I offer my roommate a snack, and, naturally, the first thing I pull out of the fridge is covered in mold. So yes, upon closer examination, my family, and I suppose all families, are equally ridiculous to the Sedarises, which likely explains the popularity of his writing.

Oscar Contest

My former roommate and keeper of the first blog I ever read has posted her annual Oscar contest. Which I will surely lose.

My two cents re: The Oscars.....

So happy Mark Walhberg got the nomination!

I wonder if Eddie Murphy regrets making movies like Norbit, or if he sits on top of a big pile of money and laughs.

As for foreign films, I think Pan's Labyrinth will win, and I did like it, but I'm very pleased that Water was nominated. It didn't get much press in the United States, but seriously, people, rent it. It is an amazing film that will break your heart.

An unfortunate bet

Have you heard about the Bears fan who promised to change his name to Peyton Manning if the Bears lost the Superbowl? Well, he did it. Talk about adding insult to injury. So awful! Poor bastard.

In other NFL news, my friend Buddah (It's a nickname, people. A while ago, I told a story about "my friend Buddah" to a new coworker, and he later confessed that he thought that I was a Buddhist referring to this guy, the way a born-again Christian might talk about "my friend Jesus.") is a reporter for the Army newspaper in Hawaii and has a press pass for the upcoming NFL Pro Bowl. He asked me if I wanted any autographs, and since I'm not much of an autograph hound, I requested a photo of his hand on Tom Brady's butt. And if Brady isn't there, it will have to be Belichick.

Anyways, back to betting. The most memorable bet I ever lost took place during college. For some reason, I was under the impression that Rob Lowe played the brother in the classic television series Mr. Belvedere. No one believed me. Mind you, this occurred in the time before cell phones, when the internet was a novel phenomenon, and no one had heard of Google, much less IMDB. Thus, it was practically impossible to verify my claim. The more everyone objected, the more adamant I became that I was, indeed, correct. Any small seed of doubt in my mind had long been erased. (For this reason, if it wasn't for the Catholic guilt, I would make a pretty good criminal. I could proclaim my innocence with such fervor that I myself become convinced.) Weeks later, someone happened to flip through a TV guide, and noticed that Mr. Belvedere, suprisingly, still aired weekly on a local cable station. Plans were laid. Bets were made. On that fateful day, a crowd of about fifteen dormmates huddled around the TV in the lounge. My palms were sweaty, my heart beat rapidly, but nevertheless, I was convinced that victory would be mine. The opening theme began....the credits flashed on the screen....Christopher Hewett.....
Ilene Graff....and...wait for it...

Rob Stone.

NOOOOOOOOOOO! The room erupted in cheers. I hid my face in my hands to hide the shame and agony of defeat. For losing, I think I had to buy everyone pizza or something inocuous like that. Well, at least I didn't have to change my name to Peyton Manning.

List # 32....Memorable Television Episodes

The other day, my sister casually mentioned the Cosby Show episode in which all the men are pregnant. I hadn't thought about it in years, but I instantly recalled it in detail (Hah! That Elvin! In hindsight, I think he was the inspiration for Carlton). I then recalled some other memorable episodes.

1. The Wonder Years pilot. Before today, when I found the entire episode on YouTube, I had only seen it once, years ago, when it originally aired. And still, I remembered everything- the car up on bricks, Winnie's brother getting killed in Vietnam, Winnie and Kevin's kiss. I loved that show. I used to watch it every week with my dad. Kevin, Paul, and Winnie were the exact same age as me, and I think he liked it for the 1960's setting and soundtrack.

2. The Wonder Years "Friends? I'll give you friends!" episode. Kevin dumps Becky and she punches him in the stomach. Then, in a dream sequence, he and Paul are Star Trek characters investigating the alien life forms known as girls. Brilliant stuff.

3. Punky Brewster- Cheri gets stuck in the fridge. This episode possibly saved the lives of hundreds of curious children, who learned that playing in an abandoned refrigerator can be very, very dangerous. Don't do it, kids. Fun as it may seem, you might get trapped inside, and you could run out of air.

4. The Cosby Show- Theo's dyslexic! In my house, this episode caused led to: "Mom, you shouldn't nag me so much about my homework. What if I'm dyslexic like Theo? Then you'll feel really bad later. I'm telling you this for your own good."

5. The Brady Bunch- Hawaiian Vacation. I always liked the double episodes, and the Bradys' trip to Hawaii was the best of them. The cursed tiki doll? Greg's surfing accident? A tarantula? Forever burned in my memory.

February: a haiku

cold and hard to spell
you're my least favorite month
please go away soon

Rumors...confirmed?

So, I was checking out WFNX's concert list because I'm going to see the Cat Empire (a really fun, energetic Australian band) and I couldn't remember when the show was, and I just so happened to scroll way, way to the bottom of the schedule. Something caught my eye.

The Police, at Fenway Park, July 28 and 29.

I'm so effing there.