applesauce

"Why shouldn't I work for the N.S.A.? That's a tough one, but I'll take a shot. Say I'm working at N.S.A. Somebody puts a code on my desk, something nobody else can break. Maybe I take a shot at it and maybe I break it. And I'm real happy with myself, 'cause I did my job well. But maybe that code was the location of some rebel army in North Africa or the Middle East. Once they have that location, they bomb the village where the rebels were hiding and fifteen hundred people I never met, never had no problem with, get killed. Now the politicians are sayin', "Oh, send in the Marines to secure the area" 'cause they don't give a shit. It won't be their kid over there, gettin' shot. Just like it wasn't them when their number got called, 'cause they were pullin' a tour in the National Guard. It'll be some kid from Southie takin' shrapnel in the ass. And he comes back to find that the plant he used to work at got exported to the country he just got back from. And the guy who put the shrapnel in his ass got his old job, 'cause he'll work for fifteen cents a day and no bathroom breaks. Meanwhile, he realizes the only reason he was over there in the first place was so we could install a government that would sell us oil at a good price. And, of course, the oil companies used the skirmish over there to scare up domestic oil prices. A cute little ancillary benefit for them, but it ain't helping my buddy at two-fifty a gallon. And they're takin' their sweet time bringin' the oil back, of course, and maybe even took the liberty of hiring an alcoholic skipper who likes to drink martinis and fuckin' play slalom with the icebergs, and it ain't too long 'til he hits one, spills the oil and kills all the sea life in the North Atlantic. So now my buddy's out of work and he can't afford to drive, so he's got to walk to the fuckin' job interviews, which sucks 'cause the shrapnel in his ass is givin' him chronic hemorrhoids. And meanwhile he's starvin', 'cause every time he tries to get a bite to eat, the only blue plate special they're servin' is North Atlantic scrod with Quaker State. So what did I think? I'm holdin' out for somethin' better. I figure fuck it, while I'm at it why not just shoot my buddy, take his job, give it to his sworn enemy, hike up gas prices, bomb a village, club a baby seal, hit the hash pipe and join the National Guard? I could be elected president."

watched Good Will Hunting the other day for the millionth time. blue state political ideology, in a nutshell.

my fortune cookie was right

friday meeting: gettin a raise!  and a promotion, to senior lab astronaut presumably?


i like the way this year is starting.

goodbye, oh nine

my willful ignorance of the fact that tonight is new year's eve is only a defense mechanism.  if i have lowered expectations, tonight has to exceed them, right?

the year in review:

- i finally experienced the rodeo
- i interviewed for grad school
- morgan came to houston for a sisterly reunion (and corruption)

- the aussies taught me to play cricket
- i signed up for netflix again, and have since become a twin peaks fan and gotten through a lot of my criterion collection list
- someone stole our coffeemaker, flavored coffee creamer was outlawed in the lab, and nescafe proved to be undrinkable; i switched to tea
- i got to see my family not once but twice, showed michelle and sean around the bay state, and had lovely trips to new york and iowa
- i watched a sox game practically on the field at fenway

- even if it was only for an afternoon, i was reunited with miss andrea and mister michael

- the How Unfortunate!™ moment of the year: i took a HUGE digger on the cobblestones in harvard square, so spectacularly that i shredded my knee and the homeless guy on the corner asked if i was alright

- michelle and i got pretty good at buck hunter

- i started spending a lot of time out in the country outside the loop

- i made more international friends than american ones

- i channeled my inner martha stewart and hosted a successful christmas at my house, complete with homemade sangria and the christmas lasagna

and of course...

best new albums:
mr. hudson & the library - a tale of two cities
metric - fantasies
here we go magic - self-titled



best songs:
edward sharpe & the magnetic zeros - home
beyonce - halo  (guilty pleasure)
sleigh bells - infinity guitars
le loup - beach town
kasabian - fire

for your listening pleasure, a mix:


resolutions:
- learn to sew (i have a few projects in mind..)
- read more; i just need to pay my library fines
- take a class in something

happy twenty ten!

i love my tec-9

finally - going shooting today!  herrow, future sniper career!

take the 6

fate (or my subconscious) is conspiring to trigger my nostalgia reflex.  or my 'grass is greener' reflex.  perhaps because it's a friday night and i'm at a coffee shop in the heights drinking my namesake lager, and pretending to work on resumes when i'm really just daydreaming about more desirable locales.  it's a combination of my own poor choice in movies and current circumstances, but i'm going to blame the beer.

in a nutshell, this is the more desirable locale: the auction house, upper east side.

long live jeopardy

a socio-anthropological analysis of small-town iowa

• the flight in was fine, aside from a crazy stewardess and the people in front of us being escorted off by police.  as for the flight back.. i don't want to talk about it.
• half of the population is extremely nice.  the other half seems to be well-versed in the 'we don't take kindly ta yer kind' slow turn and stare.
• dude.  the drinks are so cheap.  a round of four gin & tonics came to $8.  after frequenting places like anvil here in houston my brain can't comprehend that kind of math.  also, we played ping pong in a bar that was previously a meat locker.
  
• fun fact: i don't ever match my socks.  (i can't be bothered.)  this became painfully apparent and a frequent topic of conversation for the ENTIRE family when we arrived and were instructed to take our shoes off in the house because of the new carpet.  GOOD ONE.
  
• there is a blarney stone in the town square.  here's hoping for good luck.
  

 

i will guarantee you that within 24 hours, the entire town knew that there was some crazy tourist chick out taking pictures on main street.

• most of the businesses are two-in-one.  for example, there's the motel/laundromat and a coffee shop that also does furniture restoration and sells wood carving tools.  perhaps not the best idea to be whittling while you have the caffeine shakes?
• my first ever black friday shopping experience took place at true value hardware.
• the accent is very slight.  disappointment!
• sean's dad built an exact replica of the little house on the prairie in their backyard.   it's impressive. 

oven-mitt hot

i can't decide if this is hilarious or unsettling.  i'm going to go with: both.  give it a ponder.

a mixtape

crescent roll day

this year i was invited to thanksgiving at someone's house.  'great', i thought.  'no stress, i don't have to cook.'


except as it turns out, that someone's house happens to be in Iowa.  so i'm replacing the stress of 'gee, is the green bean casserole done?' with 'hey, we're flying a tiny Buddy Holly-killing plane into the frozen tundra'.  don't get me wrong, i'm excited because i've never been to the midwest and my only frame of reference for Iowa is Footloose mixed with the accent from Fargo.

[i know for a fact the minute i hear someone say 'oh yah!' or 'you betcha' i will lose my shit.  not good when Meeting The Family.]

but i will be much happier once i'm standing on the ground in Des Moines.  happier, and most likely drunk.  did you know that it's not illegal to take alcohol in your carry-on? oh hello, 3 ounce bottles of Bombay Sapphire.

may everyone travel safely and have plenty of crescent rolls.