Culture Monitor

For Rachel (linked to originating site):

For Bryant:

"Alone Again Or"

- I wonder why she's parking in the handicapped spot, she doesn't look handicapped at all?

- Obviously she's blind. Why else would someone drive a car that color?


I would have had this conversation yesterday at the coffeeshop, had I not been there by myself, though it was enough to keep me giggling for hours...days even?

The Wonders of Misreading

Today, while scrolling up through the San Francisco Chronicle's web site I scanned over this headline, "DeLay Now A Weapon?" Only I read it as, "DeLay Now A Tapeworm?" Honestly, I have no idea how my brain came up with tapeworm from weapon. The only reason I can give is maybe I have a tapeworm, I've been feeling a little sluggish lately. Which ties in perfectly to why I'm at home right now and not at work.

As a side note, I did take a screen shot of the headline, but blogger wouldn't post it. This isn't the first time my images won't post, any ideas why?

Fashionista

Fall's here. My uniform for fall and winter consists of shoes (sneakers) and a black wind-blocking fleece. However, after seeing someone crossing the street in an ankle-length red, crushed velvet cape with hood, I had to reevaluate where I stand when it comes to fall fashions.

Browsing

quite possibly the best site i've come across in awhile.

Patron To The Arts

by playing dumb i was able to check out some books this weekend from the public library. (The Kitchen Boy, Daughter of Fortune, and Living With Polio, more a history, rather then a how-to.) i started at the self check-out and when i was rejected there i moved on the live human at circulation. kindly, he explained my fine situation to me and said that if i only paid 25 cents i could get my fines down to where i could check my books out. so i got my wallet out and unzipped the change section, where i pitifully dug a dime and three pennies out of its depths.

"this is all i've got on me."

"i guess i can over-ride the system." (you betcha you can. why do you think i came over here...)

this has happened on multiple occassions, boardering on every time i visit the library. and it is the pony-tailed librarian that always explains the fine system to me concluding with me saying i don't have any money with me to pay the fines. a tired senario that keeps playing itself out time after time. except yesterday, i had five dollars, i just forgot about it.

They Call It "Smoke" For A Reason

funniest story of the week:

i was riding home on eleventh street after an adventure with the music library's photocopier and i was fairly oblivious to the people on the sidewalk and everything else that wasn't a bus (bus route equals death route). at about the same time and along the same street my friend scott, was walking downtown to teach his evening ESL class. and just south of O street*, where there is the main bus stop, scott sees a girl riding fast on a kona smoke, before double-checking to see if it's me, he yells, "ellen!" the girl keeps riding, without a backward glance.

then the bus riders chime in, "harsh, dude, harsh." they, of course, are feeling scott's pain at just getting blown off. they are a vocal bunch and are not shy about yelling-out to a girl riding down the street. "you RIDE that BIKE!" and my all time favorite that was called out to ceri, "good LORD! girl. good. LORD!"

today's 11:11 wish? bionic vision; hands down.

*O ST is the main street through downtown lincoln.

I Am A Field Of Corn and Beans

i'm always surprised when people recognize me. it happened twice yesterday, once with a former professor; meeting at the door, eye contact and a shy wave. again with a former classmate; briefly catching up on the last two years. i've always thought of myself as an observer, never the one being observed. and i believe that i blend in so well, and that i'm so nondescript that i exuding nothing to be remembered by. but sometimes, people do remember me and it feels so nice.

lincoln's city-wide smoking ban has some people up in arms over the restriction of their civil liberties. personally, i'm thankful, not because i can enjoy a smokeless meal, but because when i ride past the stripper-bar i am witness to strange pairings. last night i saw a stripper still in her knee-high boots, a large t-shirt causally thrown over her dancing costume out on a smoke break. talking to her was one of her customers, also having a cigarette. what are they talking about? what do they have to talk about, lap-dances and the finer points of pole maneuvers? stingy tippers? and as bad as i wanted to, i didn't pull over and take their picture.

another surprise: i've started posting pictures on flickr. though, when i started posting i realized just how boring my pictures are. so, my apologies, maybe when i start leading an interesting life...

Yum.

i had a dr. pepper for breakfast this morning. i got to work late, arriving when most people were taking their mid-morning breaks. i also brought bananas for breakfast, but after the dr. pepper they look really disgusting and i'm left wondering why i, for so long, stopped drinking soda.

last night, i went to a sufjan stevens (and the illinoise-makers) concert; "come on feel the illinoise" and i did feel the noise. the band wore pep team costumes from the university of illinois and would do cheers between songs. i tried to take pictures of the band, but sadly, i mostly caught the crowd.

Monday's Assignment

this week i decided to talk in class. usually i am an observer, listening to and then putting-down the other students's comments in my head, but this week i was a participator. and when i wasn't talking, i scrunched up my eyes and looked up at the ceiling to make it look like i was deep in thought. really i was thinking, "ohmigod, when is break, i'm about to pee. in. my. pants." word to the wise, if you have a chatty teacher don't drink coffee before class and then a liter of water in the first hour of class. you're not going to get a break in time. class started at six and it was 8:30 when she leisurely suggested a ten minute break. with my schedule at work, where a break comes every, oh, fifteen minutes going two and a half hours is akin to torture. plus, with my new self-diagnosis of ADD i have no excuse to focus for that long.

last week, we had a lot of reading to do and i was skimming with all my might trying to pick up on interesting tid-bits to write my paper on. for weeks leading up to the class and then for the first few weeks when people would ask me about my class i would tell them the general stuff, seminar, lots of reading, and a paper every week. "it's a lot of writing, but i'm looking forward to it." overachieving ellen would say, looking down from her high-horse. then i realized that no paper had been mentioned in class, it hadn't been mentioned on blackboard, and there were no guiding questions to write by. hmmm. i e mailed the professor, "am i making assignments up or is there not a paper due this week?" turns out it was all wishful thinking on my part and over-achieving ellen quickly turned into lazy-procrastinator ellen (she's so much more famliar). an hour before class i managed to skim my way through the last third (maybe more) of the reading, which i now regret doing because it seemed interesting. i usually tell myself that i'll go back to class material that i've skimmed, revisiting the old textbooks and photocopies to absorb the material, thinking about it and weaving it all together with other things i've learned. now, in my wisdom, i'm not even telling myself i'll revisit it, reading thoroughly what i hastily covered. there is never enough boredom in this town that would make me go back and reread an assignment. i guess i'm trying honesty on for size.

El Capital

if buildings had genders...

Early-Onset

last night i realized my big toe wasn't hurting anymore. the right one has been hurting most of the summer and while i was blaming my sandals for the hurt, i was worriedly wondering if i didn't have early-onset arthritis. though the sandal reasoning is fairly solid, since i am right handed and right leg dominant, i figure that i use my right leg as the main force in bike riding. thus, because i've worn my sandals with the big toe loop i've been putting undue force on the main joint of my big toe, causing it to hurt all the time. with a mild and irritating hurt much like a joint needing to be popped. but it wouldn't pop and i was left assuming i had arthritis at 26 with no insurance, a depressing thought.

so last night as i was getting ready for bed, i discovered my toe wasn't hurting anymore. not even when i bent it down and pulled it from side to side. nothing. i'm going to give credit to the crunchy cricket for this miracle.

the offending shoe and its description. obviously, my heel was enjoying too much liberation:

Zong
Hold on to your toe. Chaco's original pull-through strap system gives you total adjustability over the middle of the foot while your heel enjoys total liberation.

"I'll Have A Little Green, Please"

"i had a drink yesterday, it was green, and i'd like it again."

the worker knew what i was talking about and he gave me, not only the history of the drink, but the ingredients. a bartender used to work there and had modified a grasshopper into what they call the crunchy cricket (you were right bryant, a large is in the mail for you), substituting the vodka with chocolate covered espresso beans. he also listed "sugars (more then one!), dairy, and green" as the other items that are blended together in the drink. which was hilarious because i say the same thing about soft-serve ice cream, it doesn't taste like chocolate, it tastes like brown. this stems from a few summers ago when i was visiting my sister in illinois. we went out with her friends to the custard joint. i got chocolate and strawberry, which influenced my brother-in-law's decision for strawberry. after we started eating, eric was all bitching and moaning about how bad the strawberry was blaming me for making him get it. the conversation turned to how the custard place was actually making the custard when the suggestion was made that the store was really just dumping sacks of paint pigment into the vats of custard. pink, brown, yellow...green!

With Grease Bubbles On Top

i've been counting down the hours and minutes till my coffee break since i got to work this morning. the coffee break isn't dictated by my boss, or regulated in anyway (just keep it short), but i have to strategically plan when the break occurs. it must happen in the afternoon, i can make it through the morning thinking of the delicious coffee that awaits. this afternoon i held out until two o'clock and i took my time walking to the coffeeshop, partly because my arms and legs were frozen from eating ice all morning and partly because it is a beautiful fall day. so i ordered a mocha and while i was waiting for the receipt to print the other barrista asked me if i had ever had a something-something, a name that was retained in my head for all of 30 seconds. when i said i hadn't, she gave me the remainders of someone else's blended drink. it was light green, frozen, and had bits of hard things (ground up espresso beans?) and it had a slight kick, mint maybe?, topped with whipped-cream and nutmeg. a little espresso cup full of something-something that i really want again. i want a full-size of the something-something, so if any of you (bryant) know what this might of been, suggestions are always welcome.

1984

yikes! read this and weep.

more reading i've been doing...and definately not for my class:

i stayed up most of last night reading In Cold Blood by truman capote. partly i couldn't put it down because it is a well written and gripping story, however the more dominant reason why i had to stay up was i scared mindless. if i turned off the light, i was just inviting all the ex-cons (who really do live in my neighborhood) in right through the open windows. this was all brought about by watching the preview for the new movie about truman capote writing said book. i've always had a little crush on philip seymour hoffman but his accent for this movie has consumed me. i watched the preview several times with increasing glee quoting the short phrases, "of the four matisses hanging on her wall, two were upside down." "kansas bureau of investigation, K-B-I." "when i think about how good my book will be i can hardly breathe."

i didn't realize that truman capote was a childhood neighbor of harper lee and that she based her character dill in To Kill A Mockingbird on him. i suppose, if you were my neighbor, you'd be getting tired of the voice and catch phrases i keep parroting.

Compliments and Contradictions

last night scott, daniel, and i went to a movie. on the walk home scott gave me the best compliment i've received in some time. it was a reply when i said, "and they're doing it in your room." he said, "you'd make a good witch when you get old." not just any half-assed witch, a good witch.

monday i saw a man wearing an OU baseball cap. he was standing near the curb on 13th street quite near my house. at first i got the little jolt of camaraderie you get when you see someone with your home state's license plates. but then my gaze drifted down to his bright orange t-shirt which declared it (maybe the man too) was from the department of corrections. yea. he's from oklahoma, lives in my neighborhood, and is from prison...i'm sure there's a stereotype in there somewhere. i saw him again tonight, with the baseball cap but sans the shirt.

some oklahoma girls

The Bridge To Reality; It's Hard To Cross

why don't i use the bikeroom?

because i'm home for lunch. i'll be here maybe an hour and then i'll leave again. because the bikeroom is in the basement behind a locked door, the key, for which, is in my apartment. there are other bikes in the bikeroom. i like my bike, i don't want other people messing around with it. that's why i don't use the bikeroom.

all i could say was, "uhhmmm..."

do you see scuff marks on the walls? i know it hurts to paint a wall and see a tire scuff on the fresh paint, but life is tough and scuff marks on the walls equals job security for you. and maybe the next time you're forced into painting you could choose a color, like white. not dusty rose or whatever discounted shade of pink is parading around our hallways.

"i'll try to be careful."

Wishing

i was wishing my bat would come back and eat the chirping cricket that was keeping me awake at four this morning. now at ten this evening, i'm wishing it would fly next door and eat the child that keeps screaming.

Becoming A Better American; Weekend

i couldn't sleep last night so i was up at 2:30 a.m. poking around the internet. i got up after four hours of sleep with my first thought being, "better check my e mail." that was countered with the logic part of my brain saying, "no one was writing you at 2:30...who's going to be writing between the hours of three a.m. and seven?" right. the reason i was even thinking of checking my e mail at 7:45 was karen wanted me to go with her to volunteer at HUA (hearts unlimited for animals) a no-kill animal shelter an hour away from lincoln. not having anything better to do on my three day weekend, i was up for the ride. we had to be there early...

the basics of volunteering are getting the dogs out of their kennels, putting them in a van, and taking them to a fenced-in area where they can run around. (the first dog we played with was a chow-retriever mix, her name was cerise, and she DID NOT play well with others. much like the ceri i know...who got dumped in ohio.) the small dogs were kept inside where i fell in love with a chihuahua who looked like a barrel-o-monkeys with tinker-toy legs and swivelly chameleon eyes. his tongue stuck out and i spent most of my time eating him up, cuddling and hugging him...well, more like trying to convince him to come out from under the table so i could cuddle and hug him. he was mouthy and as we were leaving i held my hand out to him, to say goodbye when he BIT me. not hard, but somewhere between, are-you-holding-a-piece-of-roast-beef? and get-your-hand-out-of-my-face-bitch. it made me love him even more...where are the papers? sign me up for this ugly little dog who, in fact, does bite the hand that had been feeding him roast beef.

Singin' Sweet Child of Mine

the city's web site is one of my favorites and i usually visit it multiple times during the day. i justify reading it at work since it deals with local government, and somehow, i think i need to be up-to-date on the city's bureaucracy. today the highlight was finding where they stream the local access channel online. i watched how to plant a tree (from a container and a burlap bag) and how to get rid of head lice in arabic. arabic!