will drink beer for fight club

Good evening, well, not really it’s my late night at work. My choices are to watch C-SPAN, do a crossword, search for muscle cars on Craigslist or write a blog and since 99% of the time my choices are the first three, I figured it was high time to tackle the last item on the to-do list. Confessions of a lazy blogger: I started to write a post about the lack of good morals in modern day nail colors a few weeks ago but wasn’t really invested in the outcome. Luckily a much better topic presented itself in the form of “how I got kicked out of a beer drinking contest study and am now too poor for the fight club I joined.”

Let me preface all of this with “I bought a bikini.” Why? Because I hate my friends, I guess. We’re going on a little trip which is coincidentally the weekend of my 35th birthday. The departure from the coveted “28-34 year old” demographic brought on a lot of “feelings” for example “if I’m old enough to both president of the US and ‘advanced maternal age’…. why am I failing at both?”

Obvious solutions are to run for office while getting pregnant, but I lack the dishonesty people skills and clean psych record to be a politician and don’t want to try for a family before going on a 390 mile bike trip/honeymoon, so I had to settle for buying a bikini that is too small because, you know, nothing makes you feel young like a muffin top, bottom, midsection, and side.

To be fair, I am a small up top. To be unfair, I am not a small on the bottom. Thanks, God. A wise woman would have chosen different sizes, an impatient woman buys both in a small and joins a fight club at her gym to make up the difference, ideally in four weeks. Anyway, I am apologizing in advance to my road trip friends, my husband and anyone who hangs out at Banneker Pool.  Sorry guys! I’ll try to build some muscle in the next 21 days and, failing that, I’ll try to sculpt some abs with self tanner. What could go wrong?

Well plenty. First of all, the fitness class I wanted to take is $199 for 8 sessions. That’s all fine and good, but we’re paying off the last bits of our wedding while saving for a honeymoon and possibly a house not to mention louche lifestyles for our imaginary children and of course, my impending presidential campaign. A $30 Target bikini quickly becomes  insanely expensive if you have to sell your few remaining eggs to fit into it. LUCKILY I got an email soliciting participants in a paid ”adult beverages” study- the “honorarium” for which was $200. Yes that’s right. I’m not just breaking even I’M MAKING A DOLLAR. Obviously, I signed up for both immediately, qualifying for the beverages study by claiming to love beer in an online quiz, and for the fitness class by having a heartbeat and paying $199.

What happened next was freaking magical. A man named Walter called me up to certify that I was a good candidate for the beer study. WHY WOULDN’T I BE? Oh yeah, because I might try to get pregnant in the next six months. Any other reservations Walter? Oh yeah, because I don’t really like beer. But, it’s cool because I lied about all of it. If you go back to the tapes (and there are apparently tapes, for quality assurance) you will have me admitting that the only thing equal to my love of beer is my hatred of children. That I drink 50 beers a month, and that my feeling about “when is a good time to enjoy a craft beer” is “any time after five p.m., so, really, right now Walter.”

When asked if I like to drink Harp, I claimed that “oh yeah, I drank at least 5 recently…”

“Just five?” he broke in.

“I meant 10 of those on that holiday… what is it… Irish people like it?”

“St. Patrick’s Day?” Walter asked helpfully.

“Yeah, that! It’s hard for me to remember…. because of all the beers.”

Needless to say, I qualified. Next stop on my agenda was to go ahead and get moving on my fight club membership. Holy crap is that class hard. There are burpees, split squats and ”jumping lunges” which sounds like some kind of dangerous Australian animal.  I hate all of them, but love the way these exercises torch through the calories in the beer I’m NOT DRINKING NOW, because Walter called the day before the beer study was supposed to start and kicked me out of it. Basically it was like, “do not pass Go, do not collect $200 you lying sack of lies.” I told you I wouldn’t be a good politician, Walter saw through my s*** and now I am left holding a bag of jump ropes, twice a week, at the cost of $24.875 a pop. This is my Watergate and I never even got to be Prez. Someone kill me!

Was I steamed? You better believe it. Here’s the email I wrote them directly from my office account… since I’d already done the phone interview regarding my excessive beer consumption in front of my coworkers, it seemed like the right choice.

I was just informed that I am “no longer needed” for a beverage study that is scheduled for Monday. I’ve already asked to leave work early, and was kind of counting on the income. I am extremely disappointed about this late notice. Who was the client? I’d like to know so I never drink their dumb beers again!

Then again, this may just exhibit the lack of judgment that is standing in between me and my presidential aspirations. Whatever! I’ll be able to do a chin up and at least I’m allowed to be the president, unlike the wannabe American Governator.

what do arnold and I have in common?

 

 

amazing discoveries: goth baby names,Taratibu Youth Association, Pearl Dive

There are far more websites for goth baby names than you might expect considering that many goths seem to consider themselves asexual, or are just too despondent to get it on consistently. But it actually makes a lot of sense- babies are teeny tiny screaming dark overlords, so you may as well name them something appropriately scary like Alaric or Tristessa.

Goth Baby Names

More Goth Baby Names

In case you are wondering, I am not pregnant! But if I was, you’d better believe  my kid would be named something goth. My favorite from those lists for a girl was Diamanda (see below), my least favorite was Sangria.  Sangria might mean something really weird or sad (update: “bleeding!”) but it just sounds like something you’d name a baby conceived in a wild night of passion in Myrtle Beach. It doesn’t get any less goth than that. For boys, it’s tougher, because it’s hard to imagine me having any, but my favorite is Mordred, just to make it clear that we mean (dark) business, and least favorite is “Vance,” because of the Dukes of Hazzards’ sad sad stand ins of Season 5, Coy and Vance.

WHO ARE YOU

 Diamanda Galas is a crazy bad a** and I would love to have a daughter just like her. Chances are if I have a kid, she’ll turn out to be smug and boring little jerk like Stephanie Tanner on Full House (HOW RUDE) but, aim high.

my worst nightmare

Meanwhile, we had a big weekend! I went to the Tacklebox ”kid happy hour” in Cleveland Park with my sister and nephew (do not recommend! weird scene there), the Georgetown SFU game (go Hoyas), and African American History Month “Family Day” at the American Art Museum. The Smithsonians usually put together a pretty good spread, and this was no exception. But the best part of Family Day was seeing the Taratibu Youth Association perform songs and dances. They sang in Zulu & Swahili! And stole our hearts. They were so incredible. I said to Laura, “if one of those girls were my daughter, I’d be losing it, crying.” Maybe we did cry, a little. Anyway, I stole a picture from their website! I’m sorry. But it was just too beautiful not to. Those young ladies had a lot going on for themselves.

Later, Eric and I mixed it up with the Capital Bikeshare Folks at their somewhat belated but much needed holiday party. If you were at the Pharmacy Bar on Saturday night and some stranger came up to you with a plate of cake, that was me, my husband, or my friend Mrs. Super Awesome. Email me for the recipe if you liked it!

I usually make breakfast on the weekend, but this Sunday we didn’t feel like doing any dishes at all, so we walked down the street to Pearl Dive. There was a bit of a wait and the servings of food are normal sized (which is usually what I want, but not that day) but it’s a nice place, with a sculpture that looks like a sea beast made of chains. I told Eric I’d be too afraid of it coming alive and whipping us all to death to work there comfortably, but I’m weird.

 

RELEASE THE CRACKEN

There’s also a (much more tasteful than it sounds) oyster trivia game printed on a standard deck of cards which is a good thing, as I’m much better at oyster trivia than I am at “Go Fish.”

PSA: They were advertising an all you can eat/drink crawdad boil on February 20th from 2-4 pm. I don’t think I’ll take that bet, but thought I’d throw it out there.

It’s warm enough outside that our arugala has sprouted. Time for some salads! Have a good week everyone.

that’s mrs gilliland to you: the soundtrack

Happy 2012! I haven’t written a blog entry in about 700 years because I was too busy planning and executing the wedding of a lifetime.

[I just had a vision. "Wedding of a Lifetime... Movie." SPOILER: it won't end well, unless you like getting poisoned by Dean Cain.]

So it wasn’t the wedding of everyone’s lifetime, for example there was no ice swan, nor did I allow anyone to rip off any of my underwear and fling it into a crowd of male relatives. But, it was the wedding of our lifetime. It’s hard not to have weird buyer’s remorse afterwards (“should there have been a balloon arch? why didn’t I wear something sluttier?”) but as my lady friends pointed out last night, you just need to make your peace with it and move on.

Let’s talk about the best parts: the ceremony, our first dance, getting serenaded by my dad, and toasted by my sister. Those were my favorite parts! Oh yeah, and eating cake. And flirting with the bartenders while doing a quick pre-wedding shot of Jamesons (NOT MARRIED YET Y’ALL). I don’t have pictures to bore you with yet, so I’ll bore you with our playlists instead. As you might expect from me, there was a lot of country and rock and roll and not a lot of popular dance music till the very end. I’m kind of sorry that there was any at all! You know how I roll.

Thanks to Phil Stevenson of Night World Records for sending me some songs including a well-timed clip of the intro to Etta James’ “Stop the Wedding.” HA HA. I do love that song.

Also I guess I should say something about the much played Jon Rauhouse, also known as “Mr. Orchid Fingers” and “the nicest man in show business.” I can certainly attest to the latter.  You might not have heard of him but he’s amazing, as is everyone who plays and performs with him. Consummate professionals, every last one.

Anyway, if you are providing music for your own wedding, or you just feel like living a full and happy life, consider investing in some of his albums. He has a way of classing up a joint, not to mention that fox Rachel Flotard. “Harbour Lights.” Buy it. Also anything by her rock band Visqueen, especially “So Long,” if you like tearing your eyes out crying.

Oh, one other person I should mention specifically because he’s local, Benjy Ferree. I love his song “Fear” so much. Everybody download it! Very talented person with a lot to offer the world, not sure if the world is buying it but the world is stupid! Oh, and if I’d had my wits about me, I would have included “Surrounded By Flowers” by Brandon Butler on the early playlist too. My bad.

Hmmm. Can you tell I’m KIND OF IN LOVE WITH MUSIC? Eric seemed bummed that there wasn’t going to be more Black Eyed Peas, I was like “Please. I don’t give a s*** about tablecloths, flowers, or bridesmaid dresses but you have got to know I’m going to have some opinions about music. You want something else? Marry a different woman.”

The new Mrs. Gilliland is a harsh mistress. Without further bulls***, here are the playlists!

Ceremony, all five minutes of it:

“Margaret’s Waltz” performed so sweetly by my old bandmates. This was our processional! Starlingtons played it at a million weddings for a million brides, it was nice to have a shot at it.

“Handle Me with Care” Jenny Lewis and the Watson Twins (recessional)

Cocktail Hour:

“She Belongs To Me” Bob Dylan

“The Greatest” Cat Power

“You Ain’t Goin’ Nowhere” Glen Hansard and Marketa Irglova

“Wrecking Ball” Gillian Welch

“Fear” Benjy Ferree

“Our Day Will Come” (don’t know the artist on this version!)

“California Stars” Wilco

“Hero/Heroine” Freakwater (this was in contention for recessional or first dance)

“Wayside” Gillian Welch

“Hold On, Hold On” Neko Case*

“Country Honk” Rolling Stones

“History of Lovers” Calexico w/ Iron & Wine

“So Sleepy” Punch Brothers w/ Fiona Apple

“Winding Wheel” Ryan Adams

“I Hear Them All” Old Crow Medicine Show

“1979″ Lucero

Early Dancing (mostly old fashioned)

“I’ve Loved You All Over the World” Willie Nelson and Emmylou Harris (this was our first dance! buy it! buy it now! It’s on Teatro.)

“Begin the Beguine” Jon Rauhouse

“La Vie en Rose” Edith Piaf

“Something Stupid” Secret Sisters

“Harbour Lights” Jon Rauhouse with Rachel Flotard

“Loretta” Lyle Lovett (also a hot contender for first dance)

“East of the Sun” Jon Rauhouse

“You’ve Got Me Wrapped Around Your Little Finger” Beth Rowley

“10,000 Words” Avett Brothers

“Amen” Jolie Holland

“Paper Wings” Gillian Welch

“Idaho” Jon Rauhouse

Then we did something… cut the cake? Had a toast? Can’t remember. More dancing. We kicked it off with some John Denver due to our love of the Orioles! This is the song they play in the 7th inning stretch:

“Thank God I’m a Country Boy” RIP JD!

“Tell It To Me” Old Crow Medicine Show

“Galway Girl” Steve Earle

“Shakedown on 9th Street” Ryan Adams

“3 Dimes Down” Drive By Truckers

“The Girl Can’t Help It” Little Richard

“Rave On” Buddy Holly

“Let it Bleed” Rolling Stones

“Dream Baby” Roy Orbison

“Valerie” Amy Winehouse

“Good Guys Don’t Wear White”

“Long As I Can See the Light” Creedence Clearwater Revival

“Hollywood Sign” Benjy Ferree

“To Be Young” Ryan Adams

“Christine’s Tune” Flying Burrito Brothers

“Our Generation” John Legend and the Roots

“Deeper Shade of Soul” Urban Dance Squad

“Take Care” Rihanna featuring Drake

“Make Me Better” Fabolous featuring Ne-Yo

“Hard Times” John Legend and the Roots

“The Way I Are” Timbaland featuring Keri Hilson

“We Found Love” Rihanna featuring Calvin Harris

“Saturday” De La Soul

“Boom Boom Pow” Black Eyed Peas

“Cold Blooded” Rick James

“Rock Your Body” Justin Timberlake

“Countdown” Beyonce

“Whatever You Like” T.I. (I shocked my cousins by lip synching this one straight from the heart)

“Don’t Stop Till You Get Enough” Michael Jackson

“Barry Horowitz” Action Bronson

Interestingly, the spell check on this thing doesn’t know Neko, Winehouse, bandmate, sluttier, or my last name. Get out more, WordPress! My next post is going to be about cruising Craiglist for love a new kitchen hutch, rug, floor lamp and coffee table. If I could have registered at Salvation Army, you know I would have! 

 

knock knock knock on wood

An old post that I forgot to publish about September 11th:

What a nutty couple of weeks. An earthquake, a hurricane, a crime against humanity, what next? Oh yes, the 10th anniversary of pretty much the worst day in America, ever. Sigh. I must say, I’m not ready. I’m not ready to face that it’s been ten years, I don’t want to think about how hugely depressing the past ten years have been, or how carefree I was before all this happened, or how worried I am, pretty constantly, about the state of America in general, or less frequently, how sometimes I worry about the fact that I might die at work. For a few seconds there during the earthquake, I thought I was toast. So did everyone in my office. Still, it’s not like being a cop, firefighter, EMT, or soldier, who will all be working to keep me and my coworkers safe in any type of emergency while we run from danger as fast as we can, so, thank you from the bottom of my heart!  

Eric was watching a documentary about September 11th last night while I made dinner. It wasn’t something I wanted to think about, but under the circumstances it was hard not to. Just to reflect a little bit, in 2001, I was 24. 24!!!! I had just started my career and “adult life” proper- graduate school doesn’t count for these purposes. Laura had just started working in NYC and without getting into the details, in an office way too close to the World Trade Center. It was an extremely long and frightening day for us till we heard from her late that night. That’s a part that I really don’t want to think about. I didn’t lose anyone that day, except in the larger sense that everyone lost someone, even if it’s just people they never had a chance to know. The same way we all lose children to famine, soldiers to wars, and all sorts of bright, promising, well-loved people to all kinds of the things from cancer to crime. But, other people did lose people, and for them and everybody else, I have to say, I’m so, so sorry. This year may be a little rougher than most, so take care of yourselves.

Since then, we’ve been engaged in 2 (2 and a 1/2?) long, bloody and draining military efforts, with encouraging but mixed results, if we’re being completely honest with ourselves. The economy has just been terrible. Eric and I have been lucky to have been employed continuously for the duration, but far too many people are out of work, or working too many jobs for not enough money. There was Katrina. There was stupid, stupid Wall Street. To paraphrase my nephew’s assessment of the earthquake the other day, “Big mess at Wegmans.” (but Wegmans = America).

These are not the most hopeful circumstances under which to embark on a new life, or to think about having children. And yet, the world continues to turn. I have three friends who are pregnant at the moment (well done ladies!). I have to, HAVE TO, believe that their children’s lives will be beautiful, if perhaps different, than what we’ve envisioned. They’ll see violence, certainly, and unrest, but I hope that they will also see medical advancements, international cooperation in times of disaster, and, when everyone finally gets tired of firing missiles at each other, some periods of peace. I guess the best thing we can do is give them the tools to be part of the solution.

Enough about that. As if contemplating my own demise and demise of America isn’t stressful enough, the dress I bought to possibly get married in was stolen off our front porch. BASTARDS! I’m going to go ahead and assume it’s a sign from God. Maybe it’s all for the best anyway. For a wedding, it was a little on the Vanna White side. For a New Year’s wedding, it was perfect: head to toe champagne colored sequins! The only way I can make peace with the crime is imagaining a fabulously attired hobo staring at his own reflection in Rock Creek Park whistling, “I Feel Pretty.” If someone is selling it on Craigslist, go to hell, but for some reason I am charmed by the idea of a homeless person looking fantastic. Nordies is doing their best to make it right, but it might have been the last of its size/kind in America. I’m not kidding.  I’d link to it here but superstitiously don’t want Eric to see it just in case they locate another one. But suffice it to say, the 100% positive reviews caught my interest. Also, the reviewer who announced she would be wearing it on her 71st birthday as she crossed the stage in the Ms. Senior America pageant. I sent a picture to my grandmother, and her response was “you’ll find a way to make it look classy.” Hilarious. I was really looking forward to wearing it, but it’s not to be. My motto in wedding planning (and life) is “you get what you get and you don’t get upset.”

So, I am still on the hunt. Today’s find, a used Oscar De La Renta for about $2,600. I have about $5 to my name, so if anyone wants to mail me the balance, you can send me $2,595, which will immediately be stolen off my porch. I’ll never spend that much, or even half that much, or even probably 1/3 that much, but I am constantly drawn back to it. Probably because it’s the bridal version of this:

Dazzled

I have exactly seven more like twenty minutes to write before dragging myself out of this bed and heading to work, and my hair is neither dry, nor brushed, so this is going to have to be a quick one. After a lot of semi-public threats, Eric and I got properly engaged last night, meaning that he got down one knee in front of the manhole that exploded on our first date and asked me to be his mountain woman. Note to Dad- you owe Eric 10 sheeps, 50 chickens and a flat screen tv.

I have to say it’s nice to be proposed to, and told how great you are at everything for five minutes, it doesn’t happen nearly enough in life. My self esteem is not terrible, but when you hit yourself in the face with a 10 pound handweight while lip synching to a Taylor Swift song in the middle of a chest fly, sometimes you think “I’m kind of a f*** up.” And also “maybe I need to go to the hospital.” Let’s just say there’s a reason why “she’s cheer captain and I’m on the bleachers.”

Anyway, we are working on our self-evaluations at work and after last night’s praise fest I have a feeling I’m going to be exceeding expectations in all categories, except maybe punctuality if I don’t haul ass starting in two minutes. NO PRESSURE.

I don’t expect that life will become all about wedding planning but to some extent I will be writing about that, and I apologize in advance. In many ways, nothing is more boring. But, I will try to spice it up with my signature crazyness.

First order of business: was there a ring? Why yes and I’m glad you asked, because it’s pictured below “in situ” on the bedside table in its fancy box, right next to its friend Martha Stewart Weddings and one of the worst books ever, Catherine Hart’s Dazzled: the largely unreadable yet strangely compelling tale of a beautiful woman forced into jewel thievery in late 19th century Washington DC. The unconvincingly named “Andrea” (pretty common in 1870 right?) gets into all kinds of stupid trouble but eventually gets her man, which is why I thought Dazzled would be right at home in this idiotic vignette!

(CONFESSION: Actually I didn’t think the idiotic vignette through at all. Both the romance novel and wedding mag were already there. To be fair to myself, on my kindle I am reading about the Comanche wars, so I don’t completely suck.)

It is rose gold (PINK!) and a gray rose cut diamond, sparkly with many deeply ingrained flaws, which is why I find it relatable. The lady who made it, Katrina Lapenne, did a fantastic job and I cannot recommend her enough if you are in the market. I was like “will I break it on my bike?” and she was like “here’s a periodic chart, Imma ’splain to you all about how metals work.”  As a result, we felt really confident about our purchase. We are not big spenders, so while the amount we spent is modest compared to THE TACORI COUPLE I read about in some bullshit spam I got recently, it’s a lot to us and we like for our money to go to small businesses, & our tax dollars to gay friendly locales where possible. Independent business lady? Check. NYC? Check? Hand holding every step of the way as we placed our order? Check. World, take note: this woman is getting it DONE.

Speaking of which, it’s 9:13 and I have to get out the door, but I’ll add links etc later.

Breakfast Empanadas and Getting Married

Not the most appealing photo I know, but I have 10 minutes until I have to leave for work, so you will look at this breakfast empanada picture AND YOU WILL LIKE IT.

My friend mrs. super-awesome likes telling stories on me, especially about my wake and bake tendencies and no I’m not talking about pot. I am not a good sleeper, never have been, so once my six hours is up I pop out of bed, ready to run, bike, or if I’m feeling nasty, make breakfast. Today I was trying to get rid of some oldish flour (we get mealy worms if it lays around to long) and a lot of crap in the fridge- vegetables, ground turkey and 3 eggs of dubious provenance, but surprise! I boiled them and they turned out great. We also had some great olives leftover from a party last night, so it all got sautéed with some garlic and onions in the fry pan. The resulting mix was a little dry, so I threw in a couple of spoonfuls of gazpacho that was kindly given to us by our friend Mary Adams. That and few teaspoons of siracha made it perfect. 

I used my regular pie dough recipe from America’s Test Kitchen, but doubled the salt and halved the sugar. I made the double crust recipe and plenty of filling, and froze half the crust and the leftover filling for an easy breakfast sometime down the road. If you were thinking of coming to DC for a visit, now’s the time! Trust me, between our collection of DVRed “Bones” episodes and the empanadas, you want to be our houseguest.

If you were also thinking, “that is the kind of woman I’d like to marry,” well you’re going to have to get in line. There is no way to say this without sounding ridiculous, but after 3 years of biking, feral cats, and brain surgery Eric is going to make an honest woman out of me. Technically, I am not engaged as there has been no formal “rose ceremony” ala The Bachelor but we are planning on getting married late this year. 2011 was a tough one and we are looking forward to starting out 2012 on the right foot, so the tentative plan is to do it on New Year’s Eve. The celebration will likely be small as we are mourning the loss of Eric’s father, the late great George Gilliland. We trust that he will be smiling down on us, but you can’t blame us for not really feeling a huge party at this point.

Speaking of big parties, weddings are totally ridiculous, as are a lot of people who are involved with them. I went dress shopping after a 25 mile bike ride (and a shower) and couldn’t really reconcile the sweaty grimy me with this person ensconced in chiffon, being fawned over by underpaid yet over enthusiastic lackeys. They hand you jewels and flowers and spin you around and you’re supposed to think “wow” but if you’re like me you think “weird.” Hilarity. May I recommend Shannon at J. Crew bridal “salon” though? That girl is smart, funny, and knows how to keep it real.  She left to get some water and when she came back I had put on ALL the necklaces, “HOW YOU LIKE ME NOW?” I can’t help it, it’s like when I go into a fancy public bathroom where there’s hairspray and gel and other amenities, there is no way I’m walking out of there without a Winehouse (RIP) style beehive. Shannon caught the vibe and did not talk to me about “my big day” or any BS except to remark that dead of winter sounded like a great time to get married.  I totally agree! She did a great job picking dresses that would more or less present as “tattoo free,” so, A+ Shannon. Still I looked pretty awesome, like a real live girl.

One question that is plaguing all of your hearts and minds is WHAT ABOUT A RING? You know you care: I am getting one made by this lady, because I’m so goth. I like the diamonds that are shady in color, not origin. Not sure what it will look like but here’s a ball park:

Corresponding with her has been a dream come true. Other sellers I tried to contact on Etsy were unresponsive. That’s no way to run a business, KyleAnnMetals of Santa Barbara! I hate to give negative feedback on the actual Etsy site because you never know, technology isn’t perfect, also someone could be going through a bad time and I am loathe to make it worse. Here on my blog of course, it is trash talk city. But, Eric and I work hard for our money and it makes us feel good to give it to an independent business lady who makes time for clients. Not to mention, she works out of NYC so any tax we pay goes to a state that allows the gays to marry! Take that, California.

Eventually, there will be a honeymoon, and if all goes well it’s going to be bada$$. Two people, four wheels, 6 panniers and 350 km between Berlin and Copenhagen on our bikes. I love vacations where carbing isn’t so much of an indulgence as a requirement. That will all take place sometime in the spring or early summer. Wish us good luck and good weather.

Any other exciting details? Not really, except that we’re excited, love each other and our families, and are looking forward to uniting like Wondertwins. Also, to finessing the ridiculous Human Resources situations we were in last year with ease. I cannot say this enough: support marriage equality. I wouldn’t have gotten married anywhere without it. GO DC! Please, if you are getting married in a state that doesn’t allow for same sex marriage consider making a donation to an organization that supports equality. There are many but Lambda Legal is a safe bet. Advocating for sick and bereavement leave without solid marital status is a nightmare, dealing with doctors and hospitals is no picnic either.  I can’t comment on it here but trust me, defending your relationship to strangers is heartbreaking, particularly in situations when you are already under stress. People who love each other do not deserve scrutiny and judgment at any time, but particularly in time of need. Though it’s hard to imagine homophobic people reading this blog, you never know: whatever you think of homosexuality, it’s no skin off your back to be compassionate, honestly.

Good marriages are like good debt ceiling negotiations: made of compromise. Eric only let me write this half a**ed announcement after I promised to take back what I said about the ”film” NAVY SEALS “starring” Charlie Sheen and weirdly, Titus Welliver of Deadwood (though TW would probably punch me in the face for mentioning it). I DON’T KNOW WHY, IT’S SUCH A GREAT MOVIE, ESPECIALLY HOW THEY MADE THE SOUNDTRACK EXACTLY LIKE TOP GUN AND THE PLOT INCLUDES A FAKE GOOSE DEATH DRAMA.

MS RIDE, plus, bless me father for I have sinned, it’s been a month since my last blog entry

Yeah it’s been a little cray cray around here! I decided to become a triathlete, get plastic surgery, give up booze, take ballet lessons and plant some rose bushes. In sad news, my grandmother (mother’s mother) died and so I’ve been back and forth to the Eastern Shore quite a bit. She lived to old age in pretty great health, all things considered, so it’s hardly “tragic” in the way, say,  childhood cancer is tragic. That doesn’t mean it wasn’t sad.

I also spent a restful week cat sitting up in Palisades. What a nice neighborhood that is! Every morning I jogged around the reservoir, or walked to Dean and Deluca in Georgetown for my morning coffee. In the evenings, I watched Univision and played with the cat. One unfortunate evening I went to Black Salt and witnessed some of the whitest people I’ve ever seen acting super white. And I guess by white I mean privileged, obnoxious and with barely suppressed evil urges. Hey, it takes one to know one. It was hard to decide who I hated more at that moment, them, or myself. “They” won in the end. So the final word on Black Salt: DO go for the mussels, but DON’T sit at the bar, especially if you’re not drunk, married (“but looking!”) and wearing madras shorts. And if you are even two out of those three things, go there, RIGHT NOW. You will love it.

So yes, mostly I just exercised a lot that week, so much so that my one pathetic and dingy sports bra could have been cracked in half with a strategic karate chop. Trust me, I thought about it.  I felt so bad for smelling up my friends the super-awesomes’ apartment! They really deserve better than that. So on the final day I cleared up my sweaty gym clothes, vacuumed, and febreezed the s*** out of the place, praying that the Ultimate Fighting Locker Room smell I seemed to have spread throughout the premises would magically recede. Well, it did not, not because I have incurable BO, but because someone actually died in the building. Yikes! Upon learning of this development, I did not know whether to be reassured or unsettled. Both, I guess. The takeaway is, I don’t really feel like I can ever wear that one sports bra again, mostly because it’s hard as a rock, in addition to being haunted.

Thus, I am stopping by the Gap in Georgetown today as they apparently carry reasonably priced but high quality exercise apparel. I need some shorts with key pockets & so forth, and a couple of tank tops. I have been running in this one pair of very lightweight cargo pants, but the waist no longer fits and I was forced to safety pin them to my crusted sports bra so they wouldn’t fall down as I ran towards the coffee shop. I looked at my bank account and was like WTF- I am not a hobo, why live like one? Jesus, I can afford pants that don’t need to be pinned to my shirt. Barely.

So, I am planning on buying some clothes, wearing them out of the store, stuffing this sheath in a bag and doing my 20 mile-ish bike loop in the 105 degree heat index, and why? FOR MONEY  THAT’S WHY! That’s right, I am signed up to do the MS Ride the weekend of my birthday (June 11th) and have done ZERO fundraising. That’s not true. I got two donations from total sweethearts that I was not expecting, but since then, I’ve gotten completely derailed. Anyway, I am happy to make up the difference between what I’ve got going on now and my goal but thought I’d give it one last shot. So, as an extra special incentive, anyone who makes a donation of $10 or more gets a free Starlingtons CD and a thank you note. Never heard of the Starlingtons? REST ASSURED YOU ARE NOT ALONE. But before I became a plastic surgically altered, straight edge, rose cultivating triathlete, I was a country music singing sensation. Don’t believe me? Put your money where your mouths are : make a donation today!  And email me with your home addresses at librariansgonewild@yahoo.com, especially the two ladies who have already donated.  As an extra incentive, I’m going to attach a picture of my muffin top, barely constrained by safety pinned pants. It ain’t pretty- but just think, every dollar is contributing to a major improvement, both in the lives of people with MS as well as my waistline. Thanks everybody!