The natives are restless.

K and I have mastered the art of wasting time. This morning we managed to spend 3 and 1/2 hours doing absolutely nothing. It's amazing how time flies when you're waiting to move out of the nasty ass hotel. So every chance we get we rush over to check our emails or comments on the blog, to no avail of course. Consider this your instruction to email us more or comment more or email us your posts from your blogs. If you fail to comply, certain friendship privileges will be revoked. In fact, I don't care if we're not even your friends but you stumbled across this site by googling for "Chinese prison love secrets". Email us.

In other news, those of you anticipating the sordid details when we return may be sorely disappointed. In a rare moment of sanity we have made a pact to keep all things sacred. As K would say, "what happens in China stays in China." Not that anything has happened in China. Or not that anything almost happened in China. Oops, maybe I shouldn't have said that. I've revealed too much. Maybe it has, maybe it hasn't. Wouldn't you like to know?

Kee Keee and Hi-D's day of fun.

Every moment we survive our hotel room is gift from God. Thank heavens we are only 20 hours away from moving to paradise. We took a bus trip to the Forbidden City today and everyone that is staying in the other hotel was comparing speeds of their DSL lines. If looks could kill, quite a few people would be dead by now. Those living the posh life of flushing toilets and Starbucks access keep saying "it can't be that bad" and yet none have accepted the invitation to check it out for themselves. Which is probably all well and good because nothing short of a marriage certificate will allow them to join us in our room. Might put a damper on our wang tang tanging.

K and I have accepted the fact that we can only eat at fast food restaurants where we can point at the menu. Yet this doesn't work in some places as 4 or 5 people keep speaking Mandarin to me as I look at them blankly. Luckily the food we've gotten was what it looked like on the menu. Breakfast consisting of an egg on a hamburger bun with ketchup was fabulous. I'm not about to try the McNuggets with the shrimp in the middle of them because I value my life too much. We've also made a pact not to try authentic food until we move somewhere with a flushing toilet. As K pointed out, we can't use the bathroom in our hotel, we can't use it in the school, and we can't go anywhere public so we're running out of options. Shockingly, no one in the nice hotel has offered us bathroom access. Little buggers.

I've added K to the blog and she should be able to begin posting soon. Hopefully she'll share tales of how we're causing physical injury to the entire country. Nothing much exciting has happened so far, but hopefully more tales will transpire after we begin classes. Until then, pray for me.

Safe and sound. For the moment at least.

China China here I am. This is my first internet usage, but so far it's pretty friendly. An hour costs 3 rmb, which is the equivalent of about 30 US cents. The keyboard is standard English, but the buttons and tabs on most pages turn up in Chinese letters. I can access blogger, but I can't actually view my blog as it's blocked. I've seen the comments and thanks for the well wishing. So far so good on the staying out of trouble.

Now for the good stuff. Kyleen and I are staying in a hotel that starts with an sh sound, which we've appropriately nicknamed the shithole. We have to stay here till Sunday afternoon when we can move to our actual hotel. We don't actually get a key but have to show these makeshift ID cards to the attendant on our floor who then lets us in our room. We're also pretty sure she locks us in at night so we can't go anywhere either. The highlights of the room are: the dead bugs on the wall that were killed but not scraped off, the inch of standing water on the bathroom floor since the sink leaks and the pipe at the bottom isn't actually connected to the drain, the "every drop is precious" signs to accompany the water conservation notices (and the sink that leaks a gallon an hour), the bathtub that was installed in early 1940s and has never been cleaned since, and my favorite, the toilet that doesn't flush. You can't flush paper and you have to hold down the handle for about 45 seconds to get it to drain out the pee. Apparently no one in China goes number 2 because we're absolutely certain that toilet couldn't handle it. On the bright side, K and I have convinced ourselves that we can't get sick since there's no where to be sick at.

The Detroit airport is pretty dull, as I learned from the 6 hour layover we had there. And to keep the record going, I was searched at the Tokyo airport by security. I have flown only 5 times since 9/11 happened, and at least once every single time I've been searched. This was pretty standard except I've never had anyone ask me if they could see my feet or stood and smelled my deoderant for a minute. I guess I was ok because it smelled "spring fresh" like the label said. Thank God it didn't smell powder fresh.

We're not supposed to drink the water or use ice, which means we stick with warm sodas or beer. You can drink the water if it's been heated, and we all know nothing sounds better on a 90 degree day than a good hot cup of hot chocolate.

And that's all I have to say for now. I think K is sending an email out to some of you now, so I'm sure she's confirming everything I said. If we weren't so damned jet lagged and tired we probably wouldn't think it's so funny. But for now, we can live till Sun.

Also, anyone who owns a blog and is so inclined (since I can't view them) you can always copy them and email them to me so K and I can have a laugh. I don't know if I can go 30 days without seeing any more than the title of Chuck's posts, and not being able to view anyone else's at all. But we'll see. So if you don't hear from me in the next few days, I've succomed to bathroom disease of some sort or fallen in one of the hole in the floor toilets somewhere.

Catch you on the flip side.

Well, I am 90 minutes away from my wakeup call before I make the 3 a.m. trek to the airport.

My cat has been flipping out all week because of the cicadas and once he saw the suitcase he has been spastic. I know they say cat's are dumb, but he knows what's going on. The usually aloof feline has been on my heels wherever I go, and was laying on my suitcase while I was trying to pack it. My parents always say that he gets really depressed and clingy while I'm gone, and then when I return, he punishes me by ignoring me for a few weeks. The thing probably has serious abandonment issues by this point. Not to worry, the mom will make me talk to him on the phone while I'm gone. I'm almost certain of it.

But this will be my last post for a while. And then I'll only be posting either via email or via message to Chuck, so the messages will be even more sporadic than usual. But don't forget to come back and see Amanda's blogging debut as I'm sure she's got lots of interesting things to say.

So until next time.... ta ta.

Pre-flight Jitters

For the last 48 hours or so I've been so nervous I'm making myself sick. I usually travel fine, but for some reason, I've been jittery and not eating much. And as such, I'm not going to sleep before my 2 a.m. wakeup call. What's the point?

In lieu of sleeping, I'm watching a favorite DVD. Finding Forrester. For anyone who hasn't seen it, you should. It's a new classic of it's own kind. Though it doesn't have some superb musical score or minute to minute laughs, it's one of my favorite movies of all time. So while you all are missing me over the next few weeks, go to the video store and pick up a movie to remember me by.

Greatest Spectacle in Disappointment

This Sunday Indianapolis hosts the famed Indy 500 IRL race. But sadly, the excitement is not there. I've been to my share of 500s and the events surrounding this year's race have been nothing less than lackluster. I remember in years gone by the crowds of people at the track during practice, people skipping work on a regular Wed. to watch cars circle the track, and people so drunk off their asses you couldn't help but wonder what would happen next. But viewing the brief clips on the news over the past few weeks, I'm hard up to spot more than a handful of spectators at any event, including qualifying.

While I'm by no means a race fan, there's something disappointing about the fall of this event. Because that's exactly what it was. An event. My dad had over 20 years of races under his belt when he decided not to buy tickets for this year. In years past he would return from the race and immediately order tickets for next year because they were sold out the next day. Now you can walk up to the gate the day of the race and purchase a ticket.

And now, thanks to the IRL/CART split, it's just a race. There's no buildup, no anticipation, and they can hardly fill the field. "Bump day" used to be exciting to watch as drivers who were bumped out of the race scurried to get together a new car to try to get back in. The lines to qualify would be backed up to the point that drivers didn't know if they would even make it onto the track before qualifications closed. This year they could go at any time they wanted because chances were they were the only ones even thinking about entering the track.

Thankfully I'll be out of the country and won't get to see the race this year. But I don't really much care. There's no one I can get behind as the underdog or the established driver still fighting for that first Indy win. In sum, it's just not what it used to be.

Wanted dead or alive.

Andy Kaufman, as some would have you believe, is alive and well. The comic claimed that he would fake his own death and return 20 years later, which would have been May 16th of this year. An Andy Kaufman Returns blog has appeared, hosted of course by blog spot. The blog claims that the author is the real Andy Kaufman and has various posts claiming that he has been confirmed by a DNA test. Yet, the obvious question "why don't you go on national TV to prove it" is dismissed by saying that he wants to remain on a more personal and intimate level. He says to look for him at Wal-Marts and Starbucks around the country and to contact local media when you do.

I, of course, am highly skeptical of this stunt. Until I see him at my Wal-Mart or he posts something more official than a post saying it's been confirmed by DNA, I will continue to consider this a prank thought up by an ingenious impersonater. I know precious little about Kaufman aside from the fact that he was a comic and he died. So if this turns out to be the real deal, my knowledge of all things Andy Kaufman will decrease by 50%.

Anonymous

I recently began to fear the day when a potential employer runs across this blog. Though I don't blog about anything I consider offensive or highly inappropriate, it's not exactly something I want a firm to run across when deciding whether to grant me an interview. Seeing as I have an unusual name, a simple google search automatically turned up pages that linked to this blog via my name. And that's just too easy.

Instead, I have asked my school's blog, Sapere Aude, to use my blog title, and they have graciously done so. Although this doesn't stop people from figuring out who I am since there are only 2 Heidi's at the school [actually, I may be it since the other one just graduated], it does protect against being "googled" and spotted. I wasn't going for complete anonymity, simply the illusion of such.

This also prevents my family from finding me since the mom is dying to know the address of my blog. She saw me viewing a blog the other day, asked what it was, and asked if I had one. When I told her I did, she automatically wanted the address, which I refused. She made the logical deduction that I must blog about her on here and I confirmed as much. So I'm sure she's a few clicks away from searching me out.

The moral of this post is that I love having people link me because it makes me feel important, and that feeling, though rare and fleeting, is why I get out of bed in the morning.

Ok, not really. The reason I get out of bed in the morning is because it's past noon and I can only ignore the bladder for so long.

Low Carb Craze

Our local paper spotlighted a new low-carb cookbook in today's paper. The only reason they would do such a thing is because of the "Jesus Town Connection." The book, titled "Low Carb for Life"is written by my former chiropractor. [He still practices in the Jesus Town, but he had taken a 2 year absence, (which was probably to write this book) during which I switched to a different doc.] Although it sounds funny for a chiropractor to write the book, he did have nutrition training and such prior to chiropractor school, so he's not a complete quack.

The paper had testimonials from various users, most of which said that this book takes the best parts of other low-carb diets and incorporates them into an easy to understand plan. If I weren't leaving in a day or so, I might be tempted to try this out. As it is, I'm spreading the awareness in case anyone else wants to try it and report back.

Pain in my blog.

I'm sure I'm not the only one having problems with blogger, and I'm sure I'm not the only one about ready to hurl blogger out the window [metaphorically of course]. I posted via my email account yesterday, and the post wouldn't show up until I republished the blog. And now the post is shown in my account on blogger, but it doesn't appear on the blog itself. It's like a magic trick or illusion or something. Fabulous.

I'm counting down the hours until I leave. It's 18 in case you care. And packing is almost complete. I'm taking the largest suitcase known to man, but only about 3/4 of it is full. Saving room for the inevitable suvenirs I'll pick up along the way.

Blogging by Proxy

Since China has blocked all access to blogger/blogspot, I'm testing my options for posting while abroad. According to my blogger settings, I'm supposed to be able to send an email to this super-secret, blog specific email account and it will appear on my blog. As always, I'm a bit skeptical and had to test it out myself.

In related news, I have invited Chuck and Amanda to blog while I'm gone. While I have no doubts that Amanda will be ever entertaining and appropriate, I have my fears about Chuck. The scary thing is that since I'll be posting via email and not accessing the site, I will have no idea what either one posts until I return. I feel as vulnerable as when I leave my computer unsecured during class break and someone assaults my buddy list with declarations of a highly personal nature. It's always a joy to return to windows popping up from someone I haven't spoken to in months commenting that they're shocked that I'd be into swinging and that I felt the need to share it with them.

I will turn on my comment notifier, so feel free to comment because haloscan should forward each comment to my email. Though I may have to turn that off if for some reason the readers find their posts more comment worthy than average. The usual one comment per day isn't going to clog my inbox.

For those noticing the time of my post and worrying about my well-being, you'll be happy to know that I'm not still up but in fact have been asleep tonight. So it's I'm not still up, I'm up already. And I still haven't packed yet. Thanks for asking.

Como se dice?

What I mistakenly assumed was going to be a short orientation meeting for our mission trip turned into 4+ hours of mission training today. Which would have been fine had I been given notice and not gotten less than 4 hours of sleep last night. I don't think my dad, who's in charge of the thing, looked to highly on my dozing during parts of it.

The training videos were a piece of work. The lady producer was a page right out of a "how to wear makeup by Tammy Faye Baker" book. At one point I couldn't resist and just blurted out that the woman needed to step away from the makeup bag. Another guy looked like a used car salesman and kept referring to himself in the third person. "Joe Bob can't do it on his own. Joe Bob needs his team's help." I really shouldn't have to watch these and take them seriously, it's way too easy to make fun of them.

Then at the end of our session we had a "Spanish lesson" by a woman who goes to our church. I didn't want to stay, but we were forced to bond. It's really annoying to have taken 5 years of Spanish and have to listen to people who can't order a burrito at the local Taco Bell. Our "instructor" was a bit ambitious and I think she believed we'd all be fluent after 45 minutes. At one point she was teaching us how to ask where our luggage is. And being punch drunk by this point, I turn to my mom crying because I'm laughing so hard, and say "what's the point in asking them something in Spanish, because they're going to answer us in Spanish and we won't know what the heck they are saying. Isn't this all pretty pointless." So the mom is giggling and we point it out to the rest of the group, who finally decide that after 45 minutes, perhaps they should stick with "I don't speak Spanish." That, they can handle.

Caught on tape.

I was cleaning my room and ran across a mattress tag that had been torn off an old mattress, and all of the sudden I had a flashback to high school English class. We had to do a video adaptation of "The Scarlett Letter" and present it to the class. My group twisted the plot so that Hester Prynne was a nun and Dimsdale was the average guy who ended up with the child, but wouldn't reveal the mother. During their tryst they had ripped off a mattress tag, and therefore he was required to wear mattress tags as punishment and the baby was born with an imprint of a matress tag on her arm. Really, it was that dumb.

I played the part of "Lou the black polka man". My job was to lead everyone in the chicken dance, which was supposed to represent some sort of evil. I wore a black leisure coat with florescent music notes on it and was accompanied by a friend's mom playing the accordian. I'm still not certain why we even needed Lou, but I remember the countless hours prancing around in the woods leading the group in an endless "chicken dance." I also doubled as a police officer and had to make my own siren noises since we didn't have the capital to use real sound effects.

And the thought occurs to me that someone actually has this tape out there since I'm certain none of us had the foresight to destroy it.

Cicadapalooza

Well, the cicadas finally started chirping today. For those not lucky enough to be living where they are flocking, we've got enough at our house to make up for it. We have this wooded area behind our house, and from about 6 a.m. to 6 p.m., all you can hear is the chirping. It's so loud that you can hear it inside the house with the TV on. Not to mention they keep latching on to the walls and trees and they're just disgusting to look at. I'm glad I won't be here to deal with the aftermath when all the shells are left behind. Exactly what purpose do these insects serve?

R-E-S-P-E-C-T

Driving through town today I pulled over when I saw a funeral procession coming from the other direction. It really wasn't hard to miss since it had a police escort and all the cars had flags on them. Main street in our town is 2 lanes with parking on the outsides and a turn lane in the center. While I'm pulled over in the parking area, the guy behind me can't pull over but stops in the traffic lane. And while we're doing that, dumbasses are flying by him in the turn lane to get around. Do people just not know the courteous thing to do, or do they not care? It kinda irks me.

I'm leaving on a jet plane.

I leave for China in exactly 5 days and I have done absolutely nothing to get ready. And I'm not saying nothing but really meaning I've washed all my clothes and just haven't packed. I mean I don't know where my luggage is, I haven't seen my summer clothes since September, I don't have any shampoo or a hair dryer, I'm missing my calling card, my school books are still spread around the dining room after I promised my parents I'd take them up to my room, etc. All I've managed to get done the past 2 weeks is vacuuming my room and checking my grades online approximately 42 times per day.

But I'm thinking that perhaps tomorrow I need to actually get my ass in gear. I should start with making a list of things I need to pack. But I may just skip that step and go straight to making the list of things I'll put on my list but I will inevitably forget anyway. At least then I'll have a ready-made shopping list for when I get there and things are missing. And I need to remember to call the credit card company, pay my bills online, write checks that my parents can mail while I'm gone, and all that jazz. It doesn't really feel like I'm leaving next week and it probably won't hit me until about 2 weeks in. Let's just hope I figure it out before I leave to come back home.

Late Night Fun

Yes, I am an insomniac. But this no sleep is giving me a chance to catch up on Guster's road journal. An entry I just ran across read:

At the Purdue show, John (Mayer) walked out on stage with us at the top of our set, like in the middle of the pack, between Adam and Joe... he walked all the way across the stage and off the stage. Not one person noticed.

I noticed. In fact, I mentioned it to Kyleen who was with me, but she couldn't hear me and just said "What???" and I pretended to be talking about something else.

Saucy

Taco Bell is having a contest where your "words of wisdom" could be published on Taco Bell sauce packets. The "Share your sauce wisdom" contest runs through June 18th. At that point, Taco Bell will name 12 winners whose "words of sauce wisdom" will be printed on the hot, mild, and fire sauces. And the winners get a year of free food.

Here are some of the current words of wisdom:
Live life one sauce packet at a time
Use your stomach, nacho mind
Single Fire sauce seeking friendship, maybe more
Polly want a taco?
My other taco is a Chalupa

No wonder they're having a contest, the current ones all suck.

I'd like a large cheese pizza with extra bullets.

A pizza hut delevery man in Indianapolis fired 15 times at a man he claimed was trying to rob him. Pizza guy claims he fired in self defense, hitting the supposed burglar at least 11 times. The man died at the scene before neighbors called 911 to report hearing shots. Pizza guy didn't bother to call in the incident, instead deciding to return back to work. After all, he had tips to make.

Rent-A-Cop

My brother got the call this afternoon that he is officially a rent-a-cop. I use this term loosely since he will be doing all of the work for free. He's going to be working as a reserve deputy for the local county sheriff. It's considered an internship, and yet he will do everything that a regular sheriff's deputy does, only without pay. Additionally, he has to pay tuition to his college for the 3 credit hours and has to come up with the money to outfit himself with the uniforms, the handcuffs, the safety gear, and even the gun. Grand total of the operation will is over $1500. Somehow I think the county is coming out ahead in this game.

I think my parents are a bit terrified after coming to the realization that he's actually doing this. He's been majoring in criminal justice for 3 years and will hopefully enter into the police corp next summer, but up to this point it was all just talk. The fact that he now will be patrolling the streets and even carrying a gun is a bit unnerving. Though judging from my past work experience with local law enforcement, he may actually be an improvement over some of them.

Grade....Not Yet Reported.

Everyday I faithfully check my grade report, and everyday I'm disappointed to see a row of "NR"s in the place where a grade should be. I don't understand how it can take 2+ weeks to grade a 30 question multiple choice exam. It was completed on Scantron nonetheless. You stick the sheet into the machine, and in 20 minutes tops you can have a whole class graded. And yet, the grade is still MIA.

Technically the law school grades became official last Friday. Let me tell you, it sure put my mind to rest to know that these weren't just ordinary "NR"s, but were in fact official "NR"s.

Blog Makeover.

As you can tell, I've been fiddling with the look of the blog. I was getting sick of the old one, so I took one of the new cookie cutter templates and tweaked it to use my comments and such. I kinda like it.

But I'm taking a poll... Who likes the new look and who prefers the old? This is your one chance to make your preference known, though I'll probably ignore it and go with what I want to do anyway. Actually, I'm not going back to the old one per se. If I go back to it I'm looking for a new top picture and will just change the colors all around. Gut reactions are acceptible.

[And for those of you sitting there going, "wait, I thought she had a dot phobia", this is a prime example of what isn't covered by the phobia. There's a very fine line between the heebie jeebies and strange attraction. I like the look of this because everything is in straight lines and it gives me a sense of order. Strange, yes.]

Ride 'em cowboy.

I was forced into watching some wild sports show tonight, and one of the stories was on the Oklahoma State Prison Rodeo. The event touts itself as the only rodeo that takes place inside the prison walls. For a day the prisoners get to forget that they are convicted criminals and forgo the everyday encounters with prison guards to compete in various rodeo events, which include chasing a bull around. For this event, they tie money to the bull's horns and let the prisoners chase the bull hoping to grab the money. The clip on the show showed various prisoners being thrown around by the bull and shoved into walls. And as the crowd was cheering them on I thought, do these people not realize that when the prisoners get hurt, the State of Oklahoma (i.e. the taxpayers) are paying for their medical treatment?

But on the bright side, it gives the prisoners a chance to ride something other than each other for a change.

Who needs sleep?

Surprisingly, no one has updated their blog between 2:00 a.m. and 4:00 a.m., and yet I still check. If anyone is noticing a spike in thier hits lately, it's likely me coming back over and over trying to find something to keep me busy. I've been having trouble sleeping lately so I find myself online at odd hours of the night. I didn't sleep at all on Thurs night, and only slept about 5 hours last night. I've yet to be to sleep tonight and I have my 9:00 a.m. wakeup call lurking over me. I've decided that church tomorrow is a must since I've missed the last 2 weeks and will miss the next 7. But chances of me dozing during the sermon are increasing every minute as I stare at my computer screen. If I last another 30 minutes, it's likely I'll meet my mom as she's just waking up. On the bright side, it's only 4:00 p.m. in China, so if I alter my sleep pattern now, I can avoid the jet lag later.

Can you hear me now?

A man frustrated with his Verizon Wireless service entered a mall and started throwing phones around. He caused about $2000 worth of damage to store property and injured an employee with a flying phone. The man stated that he regretted what he did, but "hope I got my message across." If his cell plan is anything like mine, that's the only way a message would get across.

Taking Names

As most of you know, I have a couple of 14 hour flights and 5 weeks in a foreign country in my near future. From last year's experience, I think I need at least 3-4 books to take with me on this trip. There's only so much TV you can watch and understand when it's in Chinese. Since the last book I picked out myself was likely "Tales of a 4th Grade Nothing," I'm in dire need of suggestions. Please, if anyone has read anything good lately, let me know.

I'm looking for "light" reading in that I just want to sit and read, not consult the dictionary or write journals on the metaphors and sybolism. Any "classics" like "The Great Gatsby" or "Pride and Prejudice" are out. I also don't like period books. I prefer the characters to be living in modern times. Last summer I read and enjoyed a few books by Jane Green (Jemima J, Mr. Maybe, etc) which have been dubbed "chick books." So it's probably safe to assume that I'm a chick book kinda girl, though I refuse to carry around any book bearing the image of a half-clad man in the throes of passion.

Blink and you missed it.

Though not quite as short as Britney Spear's marriage, Ali Landry and Mario Lopez are calling it quits. It seems like only yesterday Lawren was posting on the wedding. According to the article, Mario let his roaming eyes get the best of him and Ali would have nothing of it.

In a completely unrelated matter, I saw Mario in Times Square on New Years last year. He was walking in front of our fenced in area, and I turned to my friend and pointed it out. Our first exclamation was "It's A.C. Slater!" Then a momentary pause, and in unison, "He's so short." Guess the camera adds a few inches.

Hit me with your best shot.

Last week I had to visit the local health department with my parents to get our first dose of Hepatitis B vaccine for our upcoming mission trip. My mother couldn't stay because she didn't have long enough of a break to stay for the instruction, shot, and waiting period, so my dad and I were left there by ourselves. I wasn't exactly prepared for the nurse.

First, she kept assuming that I was my dad's wife. This weirded me out more than anything since she had just confirmed our birthdays and should have realized that he's 28 years older than me. She should know better than to believe the Jesus Town would accept such a scandal.

Second, she had to go through this schpeal on why you need a Hep B shot. Even though we told her we knew, she proceeded to talk about how when you come into contact with Hep B, sometimes your body doesn't have enough "soldiers' to fight off the disease. She talked about how soldiers march through your blood to take on the disease when it hits. It took me a few times to actually believe that she kept referring to antibodies as soldiers. She had her back to us and I turned to my dad and rolled my eyes while mouthing "soldiers".

And thirdly, I have trouble getting shots because I have this weird condition that my body reacts to them by making me pass out. I always assumed it was psychosomatic, but the nurse told me she didn't think so. She gave me this long name for the condition, and explained that it wasn't in my head. But then while I sat there for the next 40 min until I wasn't dizzy, she kept talking to me about the randomest things. It was one of those moments where I had to be polite and keep nodding my head, but I just wanted her to stop talking. I could tell she never has any patients over the age of 5.

Blog Complete

It took a lot longer than I thought, but I finally transferred all of the posts from my old blog over to this one. In actuality, I only transferred most of the blogs, some were too personal or too inappropriate to post on a blog that is now associated with my name. But anyway, the archives are complete. So for those of you dying to read the back-posts, explore away.

Additionally, I added a few new blogs on the blog list. Check those out too if you feel like it.

Driving Directions

In light of all the asinine drivers I encounter every day, I thought I'd share some driving wisdom from my parents. See, I was one of those *lucky* kids that had a driver's ed instructor for a parent. Except I didn't have one, I had two. I think I knew the phrase "never trust a turn signal" before I could pedal my tricycle down the drive. Not all of their advice is worthwhile, but some is. For example:

When you're sitting on a highway or road waiting to turn left, don't turn your wheels until it's time to make the turn. The reason is that if some idiot behind you doesn't see that you're stopped and hits you from behind, your car will go whichever direction your wheels are facing. If they're facing straight ahead, you'll only be pushed straight down in your lane, but if they're turned, you'll be pushed into oncoming traffic.

The previous message was brought to you by the backseat drivers in Heidi's car.

My television is spinning.

Those loyal Law and Order fans like myself already know that Jerry Orbach is leaving at the end of this season. But fear not, in their quest for total world domination, he's heading to yet another spinoff, Law and Order: Trial by Jury. An article I read is calling this "the 4th Law and Order", but if I'm not mistaken, it's the 5th. We have the original, Criminal Intent (which I detest), SVU (better than the original) and wasn't there a "true life" one that aired last summer? I can't remember what it was called but it followed real prosecutors through real cases. Maybe someone else remembers it?

According to one article, 20% of next fall's NBC primetime lineup will be Law and Order shows. Which may be a bit much except that 20% of the lineup right now is advertising for Friends/Frasier season finales. I watched the Friends finale for fear that if I didn't they would air it repeatedly until they thought everyone had seen it. Not sure if I'll tune in to Frazier. Word is that Kelsey Grammar is ready to play Frazier in yet another spinoff next fall. So far NBC has passed but they're shopping it out to other networks. Somehow, I don't think you get lucky twice.

Imitation not so flattering.

I got a message that I had to upgrade my AIM today. Usually I resist for months, but I went ahead and did it. Now AIM is trying to be all cool like MSN messenger. It pops up windows in my lower corner when someone signs on. Just like MSN. Except AIM also pops up a window every time someone goes idle, comes beck from idle, goes away, comes back from away and when someone types a message. There may be more, those are just the things that I've noticed so far. Really I don't need to know every move anyone on my buddy list does. I don't speak to 95% of them anyway.

Female Intuition

I just want to say that I called it. Even though I don't pay any attention to the news, I made a prediction the other day. I said that Mitch Daniels (Republican Indiana Gubernatorial Candidate) would choose a woman running mate, just because his opponent has a woman. And I was right.

I'm not looking forward to this race because I don't like either candidate. Kernan claimed that he wasn't running for governor, then O'bannon dies and all the sudden Kernan is governor. Then surprisingly, he announces he's going to run. And then Daniels chooses a woman, and although she's probably qualified, I can't help thinking that he only chose her so that the feminists wouldn't choose Kernan just because his running mate was a woman. I just don't like politicians.

Heidi 101

"Fifty things you never knew about me and hoped I'd never tell you."

I lifted this idea off a post on Espresso Sarcasm. I'm sure you're all glad I've got 2 weeks to kill before I head to China. It gives me plenty of time to do stupid things like this. This post will likely be unbearably long, and I will forgive you if you don't make it through it all (or any of it). It's a little jumbled and disjointed, but then again, so am I.

1. Until I was 5, I believed the myth that all left-handers had a twin and thought my parents had sold my twin on the black market.
2. I’m ambidextrous. Though I write predominantly with my left hand, I often wrote right-handed in undergrad because of the cramped lecture desks.
3. I once had the opportunity to sing on stage with Don Ho in Hawaii, but let my 2 friends go up instead.
4. I sat 5th row center at Wimbledon.
5. Goran Ivanisevic hit me with a tennis ball during a match at the RCA championship years ago.
6. He apologized profusely.
7. I once rang in the new year in New York Times Square. My parents spotted us on the camera pan even though the shot had about 300 people in it. We have it on video to confirm it.
8. I have been on national TV twice.
9. The combined length of time for my 2 appearances is 12 seconds.
10. I have been to 34 states and 9 countries.
11. My mother has been to 49 states. She’s only missing Alaska.
12. I have a stack of report cards showing a "-" in the "can complete work without bothering other students" category.
13. Until I was 9 my nickname was “motormouth.”
14. For these reasons, I spent most of 1st through 3rd grade with my name on the board.
15. My other nickname is Fred. I cut all of my hair off at the scalp when I was 2 and people assumed I was a boy.
16. The longest I have ever kept a hairstyle is 2 years. My hair has been everything from short and black to long and blonde and most lengths in between.
17. I used to feign illness so that I could spend the day with my grandma. She would make the best grilled cheese and we would lay in bed and watch “Days of Our Lives.”
18. Grandma knew I was faking and encouraged it. She always told me that perfect attendance would only get me a paper certificate and that I had the rest of my life to earn paper certificates. I didn’t know it at the time but she was dying of cancer.
19. I rarely saw my other grandmother and when we went up for her funeral last year, she had removed my sister’s and my pictures from her collages. She had 2 of all of her other grandchildren, including the step grandchildren and my brother, but none of us.
20. One grading period in 4th grade, I failed Social Studies because I flunked 3 tests in a row.
21. My 4th grade teacher told my mother that I would never be anything because I didn’t “apply myself.”
22. Out of spite I sent her a graduation notice when I graduated Valedictorian. She sent me 20 bucks.
23. I never drank alcohol until I turned 21.
24. I was 24 before I had ever been drunk.
25. Of everything about me, people are most shocked that I have a tattoo.
26. I got my tattoo on Sept. 8, 2001, the weekend before Sept 11.
27. I am a direct descendant of Mary Queen of Scots.
28. My great-great grandfather was born in Balmoral Castle where Prince Charles likes to vacation.
29. My entire extended family on my mom’s side (from my great grandparents on down) live within 10 square miles of my house.
30. With the exception of my parents and one set of cousins, all of my aunts, uncles, cousins and their children, and my sister live within a 1 mile radius from my grandfather’s house.
31. My brother and sister are both named for people my parents respected. I am named for no one.
32. My parents met on a blind date.
33. Though they lived in different states and rarely saw each other, they were married 7 months later. They’ll be married 32 years in December.
34. My grandfather on my dad’s side invented the “pickle picking machine” and the beet harvester. He didn’t patent either because he invented them out of necessity, no to make a profit.
35. They still use the “pickle picking machine” today and the job is the equivalent in Michigan of detassling corn in Indiana.
36. Ironically, my 2 favorite vegetables are cucumbers and beets.
37. My grandfather and uncle died in a storm on Lake Superior when my dad was 3. My grandmother never spoke her family again after they didn’t attend the funeral and my father knows very little about any of his family.
38. My great-grandmother was a prostitute. She was German and not attractive in the slightest. I inherited a gold bracelet engraved with her name. It was likely a gift from one of her customers.
39. I grew up being told my last name was Belgian. A year ago we found out it is actually Romanian/Hungarian. My dad was 54 before he found out he was half-Romanian.
40. In sixth grade, I played in my county’s first ever soccer league. (We didn’t have soccer at the high school until I was a senior.) I scored half of my team’s goals for the entire season. My best friend scored the other half. Combined, we had a whopping 4 goals between us.
41. They made us both play halfback because they didn’t trust the other kids to run on both ends of the field. Since the locals didn’t understand soccer, they made us play on the football field, using the same measurements. That’s a long way to run when you’re 12 and have short legs.
42. Although I have natural athletic ability in some sports, I throw like a girl.
43. I can’t shoot a basketball for shit.
44. I played the French horn and mellophone for 7 years and have the crooked pinky fingers to prove it.
45. At my high school it was cool to be in the band because our athletic teams sucked. The football team went 0-7 my senior year but the band racked up state championships.
46. One of the creators (Vanderkolff) of the Broadway show Blast works with our band frequently and reportedly based the show on our percussion line. He co-wrote their show last year and is writing the original music for their show this year.
47. I once convinced a friend of mine that my sister and I were twins born 18 months apart.
48. I am often mistaken for my sister. On the day of her wedding, her wedding coordinator came up to me thinking I was the bride. I was wearing a bridesmaid dress at the time.
49. I couldn’t stand my brother in law until about 6 months before they were to get married. Until the day of their wedding, most people thought I was the one marrying him. They were really confused when I came in as a bridesmaid.
50. I am allergic to regular Coke in the can. Coke cans used to be made of a different material than other Coke products and my throat would swell shut if I drank it. I’m not sure if they still use different cans, but I don’t risk it.

And that's about all I can come up with. It took me a long time to even get that.

The Name Game

My sister is going through baby names again because friends of hers are naming their daughter the name she had picked out. The sis is going around polling people about a new name, when she knows that her husband detests the name. And to top it off, they don't know if they're having a boy or a girl yet.

My brother in law thinks that the proposed name would lead to teasing, which has prompted all family members to drudge up names of names they used to make fun of. My brother in law graduated high school with a guy who was named (honest to God) Shithead. They spelled it that way but pronounced it Shathed (th sound). Kind of makes Dave Crocket sound appealing.

Bitches of the Round Table.

Yesterday, I attended a charity event with the great Kelly P and Amanda. Since Kelly P is married to one of the band members, we were seated at table 24, the band table. We mingled and wandered, and when we returned there were 4 strangers at the table. Kelly P politely told them that they were at the wrong table, to no avail. When a coordinator showed up and informed them that they misheard and were supposed to be at table 20 for 4 people, they refused to leave. They bitched that it was bad planning and they weren't moving because they were there first. Newsflash: it wasn't bad planning, it was bad hearing. No matter if you were there first, if you're at the wrong table, you move.

Instead some other band wives found an empty table a little ways away and we joined them. They felt guilty that they had turned down the number on that table since we didn't know who's table it was. So the ever ballsy Amanda took the table number from where we were at, walked over to table 24 and looked the bitchiest one right in the eye, and switched them. Unfortunately I couldn't see the death glares from where I sat, but damn, I wish I had guts like her.

Shocking

Here's the story of the guy that tried to electrocute his wife that I mentioned a few posts back. I'm a bit scared that the guy resembles my brother in law. Let's hope the fates aren't telling me that he is the one that's going to have me taken out. Though the last time I saw him, I did make fun of his haircut.

Funny, but wrong.

On the radio this afternoon, there was a public service announcement about depression. The ad started out describing the symptoms and then moves to the "there is help" moment. And then they mentioned the center the ad is for and say, "for help, call us at XXX-XXX....." Then it was cut off by another commercial before they get the full number out. All I could think of was some poor person, at the end of their rope, sitting there writing down the number, only have it cut off. As if someone in that position needed another occurence to think the world was against them.

Advertising, Take 2.

A couple of months ago I mentioned how advertising has been taken to a new level. It happened again today. Major League Baseball entered into a sponsorship deal to put Spiderman 2 advertising on the bases. Now I'm not a baseball fan, but even I take this as undermining the sport. Where will it end?

Mechanic Malfunction

Last week my "check engine soon light" came on. I figured that 2 weeks or so qualified as "soon." But then I pulled out my manual and it used some pretty scary terminology telling me that it indicated there was a "malfunction in the emission system" and if I kept driving it would lead to serious problems that would cost a lot of money to fix. At which point I realized that I had put 1000 miles on the car since then and was probably pushing my luck.

I went into the Saturn dealership today and they informed me that there was a diagnostic charge for determining what was wrong. But I waited the hour, and they came in to tell me the results. Apparently I failed to tighten my gas cap once and that caused the light to come on. But they checked all the systems and everything was fine. The bottom line; it cost me $89.95 for them to tell me "next time tighten your gas cap." Luckily for me they would waive the charge if I agreed to get work done that they found through the free safety inspection. I agreed and the grand total was $261.00.

At first I assumed they were ripping me off, which ticked me off since I have always loved Saturn. But when I came home and talked to my dad, he thought that was not a bad deal, considering I've had the car 3 years and never had work on it. They flushed my fuel system, changed my drive belts, my brake light, and the oil, and did some other technical junk. He pointed out that with all the driving I do (I've put 60,000 on it in less than 3 years) it's lucky that that's all the damage.

And I take pride in the fact that I still have 85% of my tire tread left, on the original tires. They told me I'm a good braker. I'm thinking of having that printed on a t-shirt.

Psychoanalysis

I took one of those online personality tests yesterday because I was bored. I'm always curious to see if I can be figured out by just clicking a few buttons and checking a box or two. This is what this one told me about myself:

You're a very down-to-earth woman with a sensual nature. You're modest and are the first to poke fun at yourself. For you life should be "balanced" with lots of time for fun, relaxation, and romance. You feel deeply about your loved ones and the important issues in your life. You're a little shy and only let a few people get especially close. You put the ones you love ahead of everything else. In fact, you often put them ahead of your own needs. At this point in your life you're more ready and able than most women to experience romance and a powerful "spark" with someone.

Because you're a practical down-to-earth woman, at times you can hold on to habits and traditions too long and be slow to do things a different way, try a new technology, or change your beliefs. On most days, you need to get away from other people (including your loved ones) and have quiet time alone to rest and recharge your emotional and social batteries. Some days when you're in a bad mood and can't hide it, co-workers or friends take it personally and think you're upset at them. You can sometimes be too pragmatic and need to be reminded to dream a little.

Hmmm, this one seems to be more accurate than others I've taken in the past. Those usually ask me for my sign (Capricorn) and then proceed to tell me I'm a stingy, money-hungry whore. Though this powerful "spark" thing is kinda scaring me. I heard on the radio today that a man in Texas set up a romantic bubble bath for his wife, complete with rose petals, wine and mood music, and then tried to shove the radio into the water to electrocute her. If that's the powerful "spark" I'm headed for... no thanks, I'll pass.

Dear Mr. FCC.

You know you live in a great society when anyone with manual dexterity can pick up a pen and write a letter to a government official, to bitch about something. Egged on by Howard Stern and Jimmy Kimmel, several TV viewers wrote letters to the FCC demanding the censure of Oprah Winfrey for the show she ran on teen sexuality. This is the show that discussed "rainbows" and "tossing your salad". I'm thinking of writing a letter complaining that Oprah needs to stop teaching my mom sex terms. No child should have to live with that.

In case you're too lazy to click on the link, the highlights:
-one letter tells the FCC to watch the show to learn better techniques to perform on GW and Cheney and then ends with "ps: eat shit"
-I feel sorry for the parent who's child's "head literally exploded." Bet that made a mess.
-Oprah is called sinner in one letter and the queen of the harlots in another. Damn. I was running for queen of the harlots and to find out I lost by reading it on the internet....it hurts.
-one starts his letter with "you stupid ass hitler wannabe." Got my attention.

Taking the fall.

I've had that gnawing feeling in my stomach today that I just can't shake. It's that feeling that you've forgotten to do something really important, or that you've done/said something and you keep reliving the moment in your head. It's very hard for me to let go of things. I still get that feeling when I remember things I said and did when I was 10. It's one of my worst qualities, and I'm the first to admit it. Even the joy of voting with the new electronic voting machines couldn't better my mood.

But I know exactly what the feeling is from today, and I need to keep telling myself that there's nothing I can do about it now. I'm fairly certain that I bombed the PR exam. Maybe not all out failed but low C range. At random points in the day I would remember a question, and then convince myself that I answered that one wrong. When there's only 30 multiple choice questions, it doesn't take too many to put you over the edge. I have never been steller at multi-choice exams, as I was a Sociology major and perfected the art of bullshitting in undergrad. You can't BS too well filling in bubbles.

But it's done, and no matter how much I try to reassure myself, I'm not going to feel better until the grade is up. And at that point I may feel worse. Though I say "I'm going to fail" a lot, I always meant that in a "I didn't do as well as I could have." When I say it now, it means, I don't know if I'll be taking this course again.

Anyway, I just needed to vent my thoughts. And if you don't like reading them, too bad. It's my blog and I'll bitch if I want to.

This just in...

Well, this was "just in" maybe 2 months ago, but I'm a little slow on the upkeep. Apparently I need to keep myself more appraised of the happenings off the court if I want to call myself a true tennis fan. Tennis hottie Andy Roddick has split from girlfriend/actress/singer/TV host Mandy Moore. No specifics have been released, but it appears neither were ready to take the matrimonial stroll. In other words, they're young and the relationship had run its course.

Gee, and I thought this one would last.

Andy seems to be taking the heartbreak in stride. Over the weekend he was cited as a hero when he assisted in rescuing a dozen or so hotel guests in Rome. When fire spread through the hotel, guests jumped from upper rooms into Roddick's waiting arms as he stood on his extended balcony below. After chatting on his cell with his mother, Andy prodded rescuers to come to them by offering to buy them pizza, and then insisted that he be the last one to leave. And I thought chivalry was dead.

Days gone by.

Now that I'm done with school for the semester, my mom likes to think that I can be her buddy all the time. Which is fine, because I like spending time with her. What I don't like is showing up at her school to be her "special person" for lunch or helping her class understand the workings of the small intestine. Those new milk containers that look like zip lock bags full of white out frighten me.

Today she asked me what I was doing on Thurs., and I knew this was a loaded question. When I said nothing, she asked me if I would like to chaperone the 4th graders on a trip to Billie Creek Village. [It's one of those "old settler" places where everyone dresses like they did in the 1800s and you stand around as they chop firewood and talk about "the good ole days."]

I have posted before about how I am not teacher material and I don't like being around kids, but the only thing that could make it worse is going on a history trip. I used to feign illness when I was in elementary so I didn't have to go to those things. I am of the opinion that we have the technology now, so why should I care how they did it back then. If I want butter, I'll go to the damn store and buy butter. I don't need to sit around for an hour in a bonnet sloshing buttermilk around until it starts to curd.

Again, one more reason the community should thank me for not becoming a teacher.

Finito

I finished with my last final of my second year today. Yet I don't feel that sense of relief. In fact it feels like I've got a dozen more exams to go. It's probably because I feel pretty eh about all of my exams. And I feel like I'm going to be taking PR again next year. That multiple choice test killed me. At one point I changed my answer from "none of the above" to "all of the above". Yikes.

But it's done. And now I can get myself onto better things. Such as sleeping in and daily Walmart shopping.

Meaningless

Well, I survived the walkathon, though I hesitate to call it that since no one really walked. I think I may have done one lap, but since we were walking in the halls of the high school, that took about 30 seconds to do. Mostly we sat around and griped about how loud they were playing the music. We had so much crap there with us you would have thought were were staying a week. We ended up only staying till 3:30, but most everyone else was gone by that point. The live band at 2:30 pretty much cleared out the place. I may have had 2 cups of coffee and 3 glasses of Pepsi in anticipation of being up all night. And now I'm too wired to even think about sleeping.

I tried to be productive during the walk. At about 1:30 I opened my laptop and started looking at my PR notes for my exam on Monday. That lasted until about 1:33 at which point I switched to solitaire for an hour. The solitaire was much more entertaining I must say.

On a positive yet still insignificant note, I figured out how to copy posts over here from my old blog. But I have to do them one at a time, so it's taking a while. Especially with dial-up connections. Hopefully I'll get a few done a day and my archives will expand accordingly. But I make no promises.

And thus concludes one of the driest and most pointless posts of all time.

Fashionably Late

Well, I'm supposed to be at the Relay for Life right now. It started about a half an hour ago, and I'm still an hour away from going. My reasoning being that everyone else will fall asleep and I'll be carrying the team from about 2-4 a.m. So why would I want to be up there now? Of course they all swear they're not going to sleep. In all fairness, they said they wouldn't last year and they didn't... not at the walk. Instead they all went home to bed leaving me and my brother there all by ourselves.

But this year is supposed to be different. They're doing "theme" laps and my eyes already hurt from rolling them at the titles. They have a "houndog lap", and under it it says "dress like Elvis or a doggie." Or the "Age of Aquarious lap"; "it's time to be a hippie." And my favorite, "the bling bling lap." I can tell this whole thing is being organized by elementary school teachers since they think things like this are "cool." I don't do dress up unless there's a cash prize involved. Or unless there's enough alcohol involved to make it worth my time. And there will be neither.

So if you don't hear back from me in the next couple of days, know that I've either (1)strangled myself or (2) strangled someone else and I'm in jail. Unfortunately, the only thing that may keep me from doing so is "country days" at church tomorrow. If I'm dead or locked up I won't be able to go and snipe at that and it's the prospect of making fun of others that gets me through the day.