last night i dreamt i was being chased by 2 baby bell cheeses

I noticed one Chinese woman dressed in lights and bells who was out of sync. I was so worried she wouldn't live to see today that I had endless nightmares.

Co-worker: Did you see that little Japanese singer? She was fabulous!

Me: I think she was Chinese.

Co-worker: Whatever.

I've also decided to take the streamers off my bike handles and to buy some drum sticks that can double as sea anemonies. I'm going to make so many friends.

(You're jealous! You're just jealous because you're a nobody at this school and I have streamers!)

7:01 PM

back to normal

I have been enjoying the Olympics in a way that suggests my addictive personality knows no bounds. I enjoyed the swimming most, even though Katie Hoff made me understand what it must be like to have a child with two noses, six nostrils and bald patches on her abnormally large head who doesn't get asked to prom. Also, I like to tell myself that I might be that fast and was maybe probably most likely that fast when I swam in high school (Spitz complex). There's a club that practices locally and, when the fast people are all together, they look like anyone who has put some time in the pool. It doesn't seem spectacular or unattainable. Then, while you're swimming laps, an eight year old club swimmer hops in the next lane and makes you look like you're treading water. That's when you remember you sit at a desk and have never been sponsored.

I'm about to watch the closing ceremonies and can only hope there are people disguised as drums; Swiss men using Venezuelan boys as puppets; as well as prepubescent gymnasts wearing more makeup than Pamela Anderson, waving to the crowd from a float, while straddling hard, wooden beams.

I'm sad it's over, but now I can FINALLY sleep!

10:04 PM

chicago, two weeks later... (pt 1)

I've been meaning to talk about Chicago, but have been busy with work since getting back into town. It made me look like I do much more than is actually done, so it didn't bother me too much. I was also rethinking the name of this site, but onceaweek.com was taken.

So, the trip.

I spent the first half of the week around the West Loop. It's definitely not what I'm used to (was there even a single condo building there when I left?), but what I remember was fun. After leaving the airport and before getting back to the condo my host had already taken me to the local pub. "Just one before we dump your luggage and hit the next!" It like that time in fourth grade when you first figured out what foreshadowing was all about.

Walking from restaurant to park to bar to tourist trap to bar to restaurant was how we spent the following day. I really needed a nap and a bigger pair of shorts, as I had never seen so many different kinds of bread and booze, but that was not an option.

Him: Do you know the biggest reason I am breaking up with my girlfriend?

Me: She wants you to go to rehab?

H: When I first met her, she went to the gym every day at 4 A.M.

M: I'd dump her too!

H: That's what I loved about her. She was the first woman I had dated who was on my schedule! And now that we live together, she's gotten lazy and sleeps in every morning.

M: Isn't she entering that triathlon next weekend? She looks like she's in great shape.

H: Yeah, but now she doesn't wake up until late and we never go to the gym anymore. Yesterday she didn't wake up until 7 A.M.

M: There's something really wrong with you.

We followed up a day of drinking with a boat trip down the Chicago River and into Lake Michigan to watch the Navy Pier fireworks- and have more cocktails. When I lived there, the Pier was where you went to get date raped, shot down in cold blood or knifed in a drug deal gone bad. It looks as if they've thrown millions into the pier and, to make sure you know about it, they have a weekly fireworks show all summer long.



This is what it looked like a cocktail later:



I woke up the next morning, which was nice. I also noticed, for the first time, that they had a dog. I was up and alone in the house- everyone else was either at work or at the gym, because one of them is not human- and reached out to pet the cutie. She LURCHED and SNORTED and JUMPED up to all fours. After getting a better look at her, I realized the dog was blind.



I didn't realize until later that she was also deaf. She was shocked when you first touched her, but quickly got over that and wanted to be pet UNTIL THE END OF TIME. It was sad and hysterical to watch her walk down the hall. You couldn't help or guide her, because the shock of you touching her would throw her off and make her even more confused.



Loved her! My host couldn't stand the girlfriend's dog, because she- a blind, deaf, ten year old- had the nerve to poop in the house a couple of times in the past. It soon became clear that he got upset every time I talked about the Pug and couldn't stand it when I walked her, but he didn't throw me out. He finally agreed that me taking the time to walk her was better than him stepping in poo.

This probably sums up the Chicago portion of my trip:



I guess I took that picture getting out of a cab. This should explain a lot:

7:54 PM

just got out of rehab...

We weren't allowed internet privileges, but my first day in sober living came with DSL. Hello.

The Chicago trip took approximately three years off my life, but also proved as training for my next trip. Yes, I'm going to throw myself into the fire by attending a Bears game in September. My organs should be OK by then, so how could I say no?

And saying no is not foreign to me- ask any of my high school boyfriends. I have also said no to Burning Man four years running and have no plans to ever find that offer attractive. I don't know that port-o-potties are ever a good decision, which is my biggest excuse for missing the event. Well, that and the 100-degree heat combined with the lack of showering participants. Here is an e-mail from Burning Man Guy who thinks I'm being a pansy:

"I just got back from backpacking.. you would have loved it... we had to dig holes with sticks to poop in. I hope I did not RUIN the entire high alpine eco system."

5:39 PM

surely a sinkhole if i'd taken the train

Earthquake out, earth touched by the hand of God/thunderstorm in.

I will be returning with:

more mosquito bites than you've ever witnessed; a slighly younger and softer looking complextion, due to the overwhelmingly humid conditions; hateful red lines on my nose and chest that represent the thin line between sunglasses, clothes, sunscreen and 90 degree sunshine that laughs at the number 45; as well as a new respect for a place where you rarely need to turn on the A/C or carry, no, own an umbrella.

You might think we would call to see about delays, as we were almost struck by lightening last night and lost 2 trees on the block. Instead, we were on time (shock) to find a 2 hour delay, stories of near death, a rained out Cubs game and no TiVo, due to power loss. That makes me sad.

8:37 AM

blip

As we flew over my house, I caught a glimpse of the FedEx envelope sitting on a shelf. IN MY HOUSE. Inside the envelope? Those $100 cubs tickets. Damn.

P.S. One of the ways you can tell you're getting old? There was a crying baby all the way from Orange County to Las Vegas. And you know what I was thinking? "That poor baby!" Three years ago it would've been more like, "Really? Really??"

2:54 PM

a big one (in an "i'm over my head" way)

Driving towards the drop-off area at the airport, the car starting shaking. It was kind of like that sputtering last breath of a dying '72 Chevy, only silent.

"What the hell is wrong with this thing? I hope my car doesn't explode."

"Yeah. At least not until we reach my terminal!"

When I got into the security checkpoint line, the airport let out a huge moan (and not the good kind). We all started swaying back and forth, but still had to take off our shoes and explain our taste in belts.

I'm only at the bar to see what's going on (really) and it looks like we had a 5.8. I would've had a cocktail if it were in the 6's, but a 5.8 only warrants a soy latte. The weirdest part is, you know how airports shake even when the ground isn't shifting? I can't tell if we've had 37 aftershocks or just a parade of carry-ons and strollers.

12:13 PM

at trader joe's

I always want to pull aside the people I see buying bars. Those "health" bars are meant to be meal replacements and are not designed as snacks, unless you're running a marathon. Besides, we should really try to eat actual natural from the earth foods and not chem lab experiments posing as food, like, say, chocolate & pomegranate flavored lucite fashioned into lincoln logs.

I keep peeking into her cart; nothing but frozen foods, too much sugar & way too much starch. I wish she would start up a conversation with me and I could say something like, "now that you mention it!" but she's more likely to body check me because she thinks I'm about to steal her purse, which is riding shotgun.

10:54 AM

at the store

Corn is more expensive if you buy it in its native outfit, as opposed to the cleaned and wrapped in plastic version. Shucking corn must be the new black.

Who is the bigger asshole? Me, writing this in the produce section, or that guy by the bulk nuts who appears to be talking to the scooper, but surely has on a hidden Bluetooth earpiece/headset?

3:55 PM

no time for titles

In about a week, I'm going to visit some old friends in Chicago. I haven't been back in, hmm, maybe six years and I have a big to-do list.

Run for Gus

1) You'll want to smoke less if you run more.
2) You'll be able to run longer and faster if you smoke less.
3) You won't be tempted to cheat if you know you have a race coming up before you even go home.
4) It seems to be a lot easier finding running partners in the Midwest. I found two on my first two phone calls and they don't even run.

Cubs game

I'm not a fan of The Porn, but I don't scorn The Sex. Kind of how I find watching baseball on TV really boring and a waste of time, but I love going to games. There's nothing better than sitting in the bleachers of Wrigley Field, drinking semi-cold beer in ninety degree heat, wearing high waisted jean shorts & long, white knee socks (pushed down), while trying to see over the big hair of the girl wearing the day-glo tank top in front of you.

Yeah, it's been a while.

I told a friend that we should go to a game and he informed me that it would be next to impossible to get tickets.

"They're leading the division! Don't you keep up with the Cubs?"

"No, but I know they'll be losing soon enough. Maybe even before I get into town."

He was right- you can't find tickets unless they're from a broker or someone trying to put their kid through college. I think I paid $10 for bleacher tickets in the tail end of the 80's. This is what two general admission/bleacher tickets will cost you today:

----------------------------------------------------------------------
BILLING INFORMATION
----------------------------------------------------------------------

Subtotal: $213.98
StubHub Commission: + $21.40
Shipping/Handling: + $11.95
Discount: - $10.00
____________
Total: $237.33

Thank the Lord for online coupon codes, which will afford me one beer (I hope) during the game. I know it looks like I was ripped off, which I won't argue, but those were the cheapest tickets that didn't come with a view of support beam #134.

Visit everyone and see everything

As I try to type it all out, I realize that the list is too long. You see, I become emotionally withholding on Friday afternoons and find it better for my office relationships if I leave early. I get jittery, understand even less how someone cannot understand simple instruction and respond to every question with, "are you serious?" seconds after 2P.M.

Also, I'm going to meet a trainer so that I might develop some upper body strength. Currently, I'm in a three-way race with a paralyzed chipmunk and a lima bean; none of us can do a pull-up. I need to be able to do twenty (two sets of ten) pull-ups and twenty (two sets of ten) push-ups by the end of summer in order to complete the Boot Camp Challenge. Looong way to go..

1:58 PM

trendsetters?

1:42 PM

texas style

I work with a woman who hasn't dealt with an issue since 1963. She has lots, but likes to brush them off and pretend they don't exist. It's pretty much the way I deal with spiders.

One of the things I don't understand is her desire to never ask questions. She assumes her son wants her to sell the house and move into Leisure World. She assumes he's putting her there so he can move out of state. She assumes the worst but hasn't been told anything. She is too scared to ask, so she stresses and stresses, gets high blood pressure and broken capillaries and an awkward/creepy smile.

"Why don't you just ask him what his plans are?"

"Because I don't want to know the answer."

You can see that she might blow at any time, so you walk quietly and carry a pocketknife. I think this might be one of those tell tale signs that a co-worker is going to come to work with weapons strapped to her legs and mid-section, while grenades dangle from her belt loops.

I imagine the inside of her head looks something like this:

3:00 PM

naked

I never wanted to be one of those girls who got a trendy tattoo (i.e. tramp stamp, barbed wire bicep, etc.). It would be awkward to explain fifteen years from now and painful to see the caretakers laugh as they changed my diapers and bedding in the nursing home forty years from now. OK, maybe thirty-five.

I made a rather big mistake in high school- I had my SAT scores tattooed on my left (math) and right (verbal) shoulder blades. To make it more "mine," the numbers were made up of my favorite Jelly Bellies: Piña Colada, Root Beer and Tutti-Frutti. I only came to regret that decision in college when I met someone else with the same tattoo. She had a higher verbal score, although she would always announce that she "could care less," which made me cringe on the inside.

They're right when they say tattoos are addictive. Six years later I had Louis Kahn's Salk Institute tattooed on my left butt cheek and Frank Gehry's Frances Howard Goldwyn Regional Branch Library on my right. It was done in grayscale and the shadowing is fantastic. My only regret is that I didn't consider Frank Lloyd Wright's Fallingwater or the Robie Residence, which would've helped my hind end have a more left to right look when it really started to sag.

I'm considering a new tattoo that would run down the underside of my left arm: a map of the gas lines in and around my house. Maybe that way the construction workers wouldn't feel the need to drill into them EVERY OTHER DAY causing work delays, overtime, bad odors and hateful feelings.

2:03 PM

the shakes

I'm on my way out the door. After pacing, second thoughts, talks to myself (including the subject, "Which makes you weirder? Talking to yourself or the cat?") and pep talks ala Lou Holtz, I decided that I will not allow myself to smoke today, even if I allow myself to leave the house. I had previously decided to go on a self-imposed lock down. How could I spend the day around lots of booze and maybe a few cigarettes without falling into old habits? Second thoughts: how am I going to keep my doors locked from the outside?

And now? I'm on my way to a gathering that will include alcohol & maybe some wafting smoke, both of which I'll avoid. The result of my cat consult was that drinking might loosen my resolve and do I really need to go through that wretched first week of quitting again? Answer: talking to your cat is weirder.

1:07 PM

testimonial

One might think that running a race with your head embedded in someone else’s Circle K (because running with your head inside your own convenience store is just dumb and likely to cause permanent neck trauma) would be next to impossible. I am here to prove them wrong:



That might also explain the extra four minutes. (I'm sure it wasn't the cigarettes, cocktails, lack of training, blahblahblah...)

11:57 AM

crutch

My goal was to quit smoking by March 1st. I did just that, but then started cheating about two weeks into my new-era self. I FULLY BLAME SMOKER GIRL! OK, and my utter lack of control. Let me explain...

Smoker Girl would come by my office on a daily basis. We'd go out to smoke, talk about Frederick Douglass, the unhealthy mix of childcare and parolees, argue over the sexual orientation of the new guy, etc.

(Side note: SG wouldn't have known Elton John was gay if he hadn't come out and said so. Over and over again, too, because she didn't believe him the first time. "How many straight guys do you know that walk around the workplace asking, 'Is he gay? He's gay, right?' And, seriously, the whole thing about 'Spread a rumor that I'm gay, because everyone thinks I'm gay, and that'd be funny.' He's gay!")

I asked Smoker Girl not to come by for a while, because it would be too much to go out with her to smoke, yet not smoke. I can't stand to be around smokers for at least a month when I first quit- it's too tempting.

SG stayed away for about six days. Six days and then, "Oh, come on. I won't give you one, so what does it matter?" I agreed and, about three minutes in, was begging for a single cigarette. She didn't give me one, but the experience was like water torture and I asked that she not come by again when she had cigarettes on her person, because I couldn't be held accountable for the arm bar, jab or triangle choke that I might be forced to use in order to extract cigarettes from her limp body.

Day two was easier, because she came by and she gave me a cigarette. Easier for her, because she didn't have to hear any whining or face physical abuse, and easier for me, because I didn't have to sit through her smoking and my crying. That was when we resumed the daily visits and my cheating began. I wasn't buying any, but I smoked two a day with her. Yes, we thought two would be better than one and, that way, I wouldn't feel like buying any for myself.

That lasted until the day she called in sick. I told myself that I wasn't really smoking and that I should just buy a pack, smoke one, and then give them to her. I don't remember how many I smoked, but I know I held onto that pack as if it were a ventilator and I was a crab fisherman.

So, here I am. Going through the worst part of quitting again. (Never underestimate how stupid people can be.) This go round I'm trying something different:



I bought it on a whim, thinking anything was better than nothing, and now can look back and truly say it was one of the best decisions I've ever made. (Bunches better than my stirrup pants phase in the... 80's?)

Each box has three plastic pipes and you can chose from a bunch of different flavors. I like the peppermint, as the inhale resembles the burn of a real cancer causing cigarette. This isn't a new addiction I want to pick up. I mean, it's $6 for a box of three, and that's full on crazy, but it's gotten me through the most horrible of first days without even a Circle K drive-by.



This has to "take." I'm too old to smoke and can't stomach the idea of sounding like the lunch lady in ten years. I've heard good things about Chantix, but Paipo is much cheaper- Chantix was approx. $125 for two weeks- and much tastier. I give Paipo two bourbons up.

1:23 PM

is this thing broken?

I quit smoking (again, I know) on Saturday.

I'm at the gym (on Tuesday)...

and I've gained 3 pounds of Tofutti since Sunday.

6:29 PM

bic shows heavy loses this quarter

As straight male culture follows the gay standard, only five to seven months behind, hair is back. I appreciated the waxing and/or shaving, although I don't detest the new and improved trimmed down version of a hair suit. I've never liked men who have underarm hair capable of being braided and used as an escape vehicle in a high-rise fire scenario. There's nothing less attractive than underarm hair that looks like it has been straight ironed and then overtaken by white deodorant balls.

Many guys represented their new hairstyles during the mud run:



We're putting off having children, because we want a little quality time together before being overrun by gorgeous babies and maybe a few dirty diapers.



This Young Republican's shorts finished thirty-two seconds after he did.

Don't think that everyone running the event looked like these men. In fact, the only thing that kept my running partner sprinting towards the finish line was the fact that an older, heavyset woman was going to finish in front of him. This guy ran the 10k obstacle course:



Although he hasn't gotten the memo about hair, he probably beat our time.

11:25 AM

mud run

We ran the mud run over the weekend and are now looking forward to the Boot Camp Challenge. I knew we wouldn't beat our times from last year and was just hoping to finish in less than 1:45. Surprisingly, we finished only four minutes slower than last year, which doesn't say much for training or skipping cocktails.

At the group showers, I pointed out a young Adonis in boxer briefs who couldn't have been older than 23.

Straight Male Running Partner: So? Go talk to him!

Me: Why?

SMRP: You have nothing to lose.

Me: And what would I say? Who's your favorite Transformer?

It's fun to look, but I hardly want to talk to them or go out for coffee. (Besides, coffee might stunt their growth.) Sometimes I forget that I have straight male friends and point out things they just don't understand and can't appreciate. It's kind of like window-shopping for pieces of furniture that would never fit into your home; you notice how shiny and great looking the pieces get when they're wet and have no pillows to clutter up the view.

2:42 PM

hoopla

I don't understand the big to-do over gay marriage. Maybe the money coming in for marriage license fees, etc., could help the programs cut in half or killed due to Schwarzenegger's $14-billion deficit. And, if they're anything like straight people, the money from divorces could pay for thirty-five hundred teachers' salaries.

Besides, we have bigger problems. It's still legal for Dennis Rodman to remarry.

P.S. Denise Richards


P.P.S.

4:33 PM

oh snap

I took this on Friday (of "Memorial Day Weekend Friday"), meaning to post it then, but a week later gas is up to $4.26 for 87. It's really harder to keep up with gas prices than with this site.

1:09 PM

wake me up in 2 hours

It's like the old days: I'm sitting here, doing nothing, waiting for the work day to be over already.

Why does it seem like running a 10k takes 2 minutes, while waiting for 5:00 to get here takes 2 weeks?

2:59 PM

teeny tiny

I'm not a big supported of WAL-MART. Using all caps is obnoxious- we get it, already! Sometimes, they use "Wal-Mart," but most of the time it's WAL-MART! WAL-MART! No one thinks you're fancy because you sell faux-silk plants and hamburgers within 10 feet of each other.

Anyhow, I went to WAL-MART yesterday. I'm a monster, I know, but I was a block away and in need of some drywall anchors and lotion. Did I leave a smaller footprint because I only drove to one location? Did I leave a smaller footprint because WAL-MART probably destroyed all of the local businesses within a year of their moving into the area, in which case there are less Mom & Pop Shops leaving their footprints?

Damn my need for epidermal lubrication.

And frame accessories.

I got a really great photo, though, so it's almost worth it.

12:12 PM

big foot

I don't drink bottled water at home, because I use one of these. Local news reported that traces of antidepressants can be found in our tap water, so I'm just trying to kill two birds. Not that I'm depressed, which is to say they must be working. The story stated you'd need to drink something like 10 or 100 Olympic sized swimming pools worth of water to get the daily dosage, but then I do drink a lot of water.

I go through about two cases of water (bottles) in a week. After watching a very special episode of Oprah (it's an age requirement), I thought it might just be time to buy a reusable water bottle. It's not as if I haven't seen them or bought them in the past, but I've never found one I really like. They can be bulky, don't stay cold for that long and they never match my shoes. Also, I'm forever leaving them all over town (with my sunglasses). It seems that during my absence- from the reusable water market- there have been many changes. I looked around online and found a stainless steel bottle - it was love at first sight:



There are all kinds of plastics that can give you cancer or make your hair frizz and, frankly, I don't have the energy or patience to do the research. This one is sleek, super lightweight, can hold 40oz of anything and has a handy little top that gives my middle finger a workout.

So, as of today, which marks the day my UPS package finally arrived, I will stop using disposable water bottles. I actually bought two Kleen Kanteen bottles just so that I won't be without when I'm searching for the one I lost, along with my sunglasses and car keys.

2:33 PM

mud run countdown: 37 days

Starting a new business, while trying not to deplete my savings and yet eat something other than cat food, didn't leave much time for working out. I hadn't taken a kickboxing class since August, I hadn't run since the 5k boob run in late September, and I had felt everything below my T4 up until Tuesday. Now it's more of a searing pain that moves from tightness to numbness rather than a feeling of awareness or usefulness.

It's like you wake up one day and you're old.

My body used to bounce right back after two years off, but now, eight months out, it's as if I'm relearning how to put one leg in front of the other or how to eat rice with chopsticks. I have yet to run more than three miles without stopping to walk and the mud run has a three-mile uphill section. I was really looking forward to beating my time from last year, but now I'll be happy if I get to the finish line and it's still there: there is a 2:45:00 time limit.

I stopped- for a water, not gas- on the way to the gym:



I should start walking.

10:57 AM

time to stay within the zipcode

I had to fuel up before a weekend trip. Having just gotten gas a week ago, I was shocked at the drastic jump. So shocked, I took a picture:



As I only update once or twice a week (month, whatever), the photo stayed on my phone. Last night, after using $60 worth of gas, I visited my favorite pump at the "cheap" gas station:



I knew I should've decorated my place in gas containers when I had the chance.

11:21 AM

you think i do this because it's quick

But it took me at least twenty-five seconds to upload the song for today. Twenty-five seconds I'll never get back...

12:26 PM

your homework is due

I finished my taxes and submitted them about thirty minutes ago. I realized- last month- that I should've hired someone, but thought it wouldn't be too complex as to turn me to drinking. I was wrong, but I have always loved a cocktail so win win.

And you know what? I'm getting a refund. A REFUND! I am so loving this starting a business thing. Lord knows the sizable difference between '06 and '07 might catch someone's attention, but I didn't fudge even the tiniest of numbers. As long as I filled out the forms correctly, I won't be begging to trade pancakes for legal representation.

More good news; the Pope is coming to visit. I still have two cases of Pope-On-a-Rope from the last visit in the late 70's. No, Pope-On-a-Rope isn't as timely now, but- as long as they haven't melted- I might be able to unload a few dozen. They're vintage and they keep you clean & fresh as a summer's day. Can't say that about leg warmers.

6:00 PM

recapping wednesday on friday

What says end of the week more than Tuvan tunes?

12:04 PM

wednesday

What says mid-week more than an Indian version of a Persian song?

5:10 PM