road trip

Everyone needs a road trip every now and then. Driving to the beach with my roommate proved to be a very eclectic experience. I learned things about her I never knew. For instance, she can break it down to Bryan Adams like nobody's business. Pieces of intelligent conversation are lost in random sentences like, (listening to Green Day's Time of Your Life) Laura informs me, "if I were a man, that's how I would sing." But honestly, the drive to the beach is one of my favorite drives. It's got its quirks-- the small towns that will practically arrest you if you go 3 mph over the speed limit of 25mph, the family-run farmers markets on the side of the road, the Royal Farms that I almost always stop at for mid-drive refreshments, the large pipes on wheels that spray water over crops (that for some reason always reminded me of elephants...pictured below) and of course, all the familiar scents and smells of the drive.

Laura: *breathing deeply* I can smell the ocean already.

Me: You can?

Laura: Yea, don't you smell the salt?

Me: Hun, we've still got about 20 miles to go. That's not salt. That's fertilizer and skunk.

As we're driving through the country, we pass small graveyards, a farm filled with what looks like pigme goats, and we drove by a picnic weddning at 10am. Noting how different these people live than we do, I disclosed I'm honestly not opposed to living in a trailer. A "mobile home" if you will. Laura is shocked, but seriously, they're affordable (and Lord knows real estate prices are ridiculous) and they're great if you have commitment issues. Wanna move to another state? Just move your house! It's really easy. I don't need a lot of space. I don't take up too much room. And I could have a hammock inside.

Me: Something smells like tropical melted ice cream.
Laura: It's my lip gloss.
Me: That's some tropical lip gloss.

We pass by the haunted house of Greenwood (pictured above) and Laura tells me she wants to go on a Ghost Hunt, which is interesting since she's never even been in a Haunted House ride before (which will change after tomorrow).

Laura: Yea, didn't you see that show on MTV? 5 people go in a haunted house and they try to survive and find the ghost.

Christine: Like Scooby Doo?

Laura: No, more like The Haunting.

Christine: I don't watch scary movies.

Laura: What about the Excorsism of Emily Rose?

Christine: You just said "excorsism."

Laura: Yea but it's based on a true story, it's not scary.

Christine. Again. "Excorsism." No thanks.

Listening to the infamous "Delilah" radio station, some dude calls in and gives an incredibly lame dedication to his girlfriend. I decide to start singing "Opposites Attract" to Laura, altering the lyrics to fit our life as roommates... I cook and clean and she's my designated driver. I like summer, she likes winter, etc. Suddenly...

Laura: Hey! What are those hairy cows?

Me: Are you serious?

Laura: Yea, have you seen those before?

Me: Those are bison.

Laura: What are bison?

Me: They're like buffalo.

Laura: But they're just like hairy cows, right?

Me: Did you ever learn about Native American history?

Laura: But it's the same thing, you make burgers, right?

Me: Yea. You can make Ostrich burgers too.

something's not right

So, something hasn't been right lately. I'm not sure if it's that I'm not eating right, which I'm sure I'm not... or if I'm not getting enough sleep, which is also true, or if I'm stressed about various things, which I am... Either way, some combination of these issues has caused my psyche to be completely out of wack. I'm not sleeping, even if I'm really exhausted. If I do sleep, I toss and turn and have nightmares, and I wake up frequently, yet can't drag myself out of bed when it's actually time to get up. Let me elaborate... two nights ago, I was very combative in my sleep. I remember fighting someone in my dream, and my roommate woke me the following morning, having found me sitting straight up, legged crossed (Indian style), staring out the window. The covers were balled up on the ground, and pillows were strewn across the room.

Last night, my dream was very vivid and disturbing. Don't judge my subconscious activity. It began as I had fallen overboard, and was trying to stay above water in the middle of a choppy, very dark, ocean. There were no boats around, so I have no idea what I fell off of, unless it was a cloud. Desperately flailing my arms about, I look over and see a puppy trying to swim. I swim over, grab the puppy, and place him on my stomach, as I float on my back for a while. I fall asleep, floating, and wake up when I hit the sand. I pick up the puppy, put him on the sand and he turns into a child and runs away. I look over and see a huge freighter, parallel to shore, sinking, in 10 feet of water. People are running around on the freighter in a mode of panic, trying to save it from sinking. I yelled out to them, 'why don't you all just get off the boat?' Falling into a single-file line, I joined the mass of people parading down the beach in relative silence. The captain directs us toward a camp that he said he had build the last time he had been to that island. We go in through a revolving stick gate, and realize we're trapped. It's a torture camp. Somehow I end up in a large wooden pen, with a wooden branch going through the pen like a rod in a closet. I was being tortured, I think someone was trying to cut me, and they took a few people I cared about (don't know who they were) from the pen and returned their quartered bodies and draped them over the branch, and would say things like, "Ok, come on, you're next." WTF?!?! Why on earth would I go next? Being chopped into pieces... not exactly on my to-do list today, thanks though. At any rate, I follow the torture man into the woods, but I'm watching me follow him. I disappear, and all my dream is, is looking at the empty pen. Then I woke up and went to work. Honestly. My subconscious seems stressed.

I've been over-analyzing my life and having imaginary conversations during my occasional 2 hour commute home. When you're alone with nothing to do, sitting in traffic, it's not uncommon to talk to yourself, I've heard. I've been over-emotional. Way too sensitive and taking things personally. My mother usually gets under my skin but lately it seems like every time I talk to her, the smallest things set me off. Feeling slightly depressed, lonely, and drained last night, I needed an excuse to let out this emotion. Instead of going out to dinner for my friend's birthday and socializing with other human beings, I went home, curled up on the couch and proceeded to watch 5 episodes of Grey's Anatomy, in a row, which gave me an excuse to cry at each episode because they're just that good.

It's a really good thing I'm going to the beach this weekend. Beach fixes everything.

why don't they make these in women's sizes???

They finally make light up shoes for adults, and they completely forget the pink version. Geez Louise.

the legendary "phase out"

Everyone is familiar with the "phase out". Different than a full-on "break up" but essentially the same result, without the effort and awkwardness and extra arbitrary emotion.

My friend, we'll call her Anna, recently ended a long-term relationship. She has just started to date around and has encountered an issue. There are 2 boys in the picture- one is a body builder, the other is a race-car driver. Seriously! I warned her about the body builder... that usually, if they're body building, they're taking supplements, and they're lacking in other supplemental parts of the body, if you catch my drift. Well, I was right. She confirmed that she was a little disappointed. She wants to know how to phase him out, and concentrate on the race-car driver. This is fairly simple to do, and happens for many reasons.

Reasons I have phased out someone in the last year or so:

1) Phil was boring. I mean REALLY boring. Didn't have much to say, and devoted his free time to working out. Had nothing else of interest to occupy his time. He informed me of his daily diet (every day, for 3 years and counting): Oatmeal and yogurt for breakfast. Protein shake at 10am. Grilled plain chicken and steamed veggies for lunch. Protein shake at 3pm. Grilled plain chicken and steamed veggies for dinner. Phil did not stray from this strict diet, ever. How is that possible??? Life is for discovering new things, new flavors, new culture, new cuisine, the whole experience of things being different! No. I like cheese fries.

2) Greek Boy (for privacy's sake) had a Napolean Complex to say the least, and an anger problem that surfaced by date #3. It was assumed he was in a bad mood, but no, it was his personality to be in a constant state of anger and annoyance.

3) David took me on a date and ate my food before I could eat it.

4) Bob (for privacy's sake) was the boy featured in that dating experience highlighted in the post about Tucan Sam's dating rules.

5) Rob (for privacy's sake) was a big girl. Chatty, girly, and ultra smothering. I couldn't breathe. And he decided in the first 5 minutes he met me, that he knew everything about me. He typecasted me, assumed I was this dainty, giggly, innocent girl who liked salads and couldn't drive stick. I was glad to correct him, though it did cause me to have slightly more attitude than I usually would.

Sometimes it can get sticky to "break up" with someone and it can be beneficial for all parties involved to passively phase out someone, but there are different schools of thought on the matter, and the side effects of the phase out are debatable.

In my experience, it works well if you flirt a little on the phone, but act disappointed that your schedule is just too crazy, because you "do really want to go out again soon, but just don't have the time." After a couple dates are presented and you turn them down, you simply say, "I'm sorry, this isn't fair to you. I'm just not as flexible as I thought and I don't want to lead you on, but I just can't see this working since I'm so busy. As soon as my schedule frees up, of course you're the first person I'll call, because I do like you." And then shortly after that, the calls will end and you're off the hook.

However, you should be considerate about this phase out- the timing, the reasons, the possibilities of future run-ins. It is possible to phase out someone and stay friends, or at least cordial to one another without anything being awkward. 3 of the above mentioned boys, are boys that I've worked with. Although at the moment, not gonna lie, I might be the phase-out-ee. The boy I've been hanging out with has become less accessible, isn't calling as much, doesn't seem interested. We weren't officially together, so it's not like this warrants a "break up" talk, but I am getting the feeling I'm being phased out. It's all part of the game I guess. Though, it would be more convenient for him to phase me out at the end of the summer when I go to Chicago... because until then, I do see him a few times a week just because our schedules and social events happen to overlap. Awkward.

where's your fancy stuff?

inspired by ukuleles and really good chicken tenders, enjoy a trip down memory lane:

Puff the Magic Dragon and the Incredible Mr. Nobody

in parts 1, 2, and 3

with a prs guitar...

I still like the first flyer better, but I guess this is still ok...

i'm working for free. be polite goddamn it.

I have recently taken the various opportunities to create flyers for a few events. I do this as a favor to those people asking, who happen to be friends of mine. I am doing this for free.

Situation: when one person (my friend) sent me some information about an upcoming event on the following flyer and asked me to play with it, I got excited! I like creating things like this, and it gave me something to do with my morning on Friday.

What she sent me originally:

What I created:

Now, again, I will reiterate. I am doing this for free. When the guy putting on the event comes to me last night, does he say 'Thanks, it looked great!'? No. He gives me a comment laced with attitude, 'Um, it was good but that was a Gibson guitar you put on the flyer. That's not good. It either needs to be a PRS guitar, since that's our sponsor, or an acoustic guitar since, it's "ACOUSTIC ALCHEMY." You need to change that.'

Um. Yea. Again, doing it for free. Be nice and say thanks, jerk. Second, your neice asked me to this and gave me limited info. Noone told me PRS was your sponsor until now. And, third- do I look like a music person? No. Do I play an instrument? No. Do I know what the hell PRS stands for? Yes, only because Google told me this morning. UGH. JUST BE GRACIOUS AND THANKFUL. Honestly, it's not that hard. I'll find you your freaking PRS guitar. And I'll make it look pretty. For free.

Why am I doing this again...?

i kissed a girl

my new favorite song. may have to break this out at karaoke tonight!

Katy Perry's 'I Kissed A Girl'

jazz nights

Practically on the border of DC, Silver Spring, and Takoma Park, sits an old mansion on Eastern Avenue. Known for their Murder Mystery Dinners, the Blair Mansion is breaking into the music scene with their weekly Monday night Jazz Jam Session, attracting a wide variety of clientele.

You have your regulars, your serious musicians, your young, sloppy, yet talented musicians (who either don't order anything, or they do and want separate checks, or skip out on the bill and then play dumb the next week), your couples who are in blatent controlling relationships, and then a few randoms that you later discover are photographers or promoters who were asked to come by. My regulars (a few are musicians or vocalists) are what gets me through the night. One gentleman in particular, has come to Jazz night every Monday since it started. He comes in alone, around 8:30pm, and stays until 11. I happened to serve him that first night, and ever since, he's always sat in my section. 90% of the time, he'll order chicken tenders and one lemonade, although last night he ordered wings, and a second lemonade.

Two weeks ago, I was in the kitchen when he walked in, and he sat in Joe's section. When Joe came over to greet him, he politely replied, "I'm sorry... where's my server, Christine?" Joe informed him that I was on the other side of the room, and my guy gathered his things, and told Joe he would move to my section. :o) My first request to have me as a server. He's a sweet man with glasses, and wears sweaters. Last night he looked exceptionally put together with ironed khakis matching the subtle beige pattern of his button-down shirt. He tipped $10 on his $9 check.

You walk into the mansion and at the end of the hall sits an old man on a stool, ready to greet you. That's Mr. Moses. He takes you to the "Terrace Room" where all the magic happens. He'll seat you at a table, and at 8pm, the jazz session begins, led by the core jazz band- Gary Grainger, Eli Staples, Brian Fox, Diane Grainger, Greg Grainger, Marixelle, Sean Rickman, Ron Holloway, Torro and WaWa. I may have misspelled some names, but you get the point. Other musicians are encouraged to use the sign-up sheet to participate in the "jam session" part of the night. Usually, Brian Fox will call up people and they can contribute what they know- as vocalists, guitarists, saxaphonists, drummers, etc. Chef Milton cooks up some fried chicken, and you get to sit and enjoy the music.

And then there are happenings between some of the different customers who happened to be seated together at a large table. If you pay close attention, you may be able to notice what goes down.... notes passed between each other like high school, and carelessly discarded for me to stumble across as I'm bussing the tables. Interestingly enough... Annette is a lesbian.

400 lesbians

Sunday night, I had the experience of working as a server for a 400-person Lesbian Black Power party. I have never seen so many lesbians in my life. Many were beautiful, educated, successful women. Although, there were a few that stuck out...

One woman, tall and broad shouldered, sported a brown leopard print moo-moo, a white afro, and 3 inch curled fake nails, painted green and blue. Some were dressed as men, others were dressed as slutty women, and others knew exactly how to dress their bodies to appear flattering and beautiful. Some had their hair short, but most wore dreds or cornrows. Many women were donning a bright neon green glow bracelet, signifying their "single" status. One in particular tried to grab me twice to come dance with her, as my arms are balancing trays of chicken wings and chicken tenders. Later, she saw me walk by, and asked with a smile, "what are you, like 10?" I replied, "no, I'm 24." "Oh, you're cute!" Not gonna lie, I blushed a little, and then went about my way, delivering cranberry juice to some non-drinkers (apparently non-tippers as well, btw). By the end of the night, the woman was sitting in a chair and as I walked by, grabbed me and asked me to sit on her lap, and then asked if I liked kissing.... I informed her I was flattered, but straight, and to that she replied, "Oh no you're not baby!" and wrapped her arms around me, rubbing my shoulders, and coaxing me to sit on her lap again. Holy Hell! I was trapped!!!! Honestly, these women were not good tippers- if they tipped at all. I should've said, "Give me a $20 and then we can talk." It was a rough night- I totally would have sat on her lap for $20. Does that make me a whore? No. That makes me a resourceful waitress. Flirt a little, no harm, no foul, get good tips, right?

Lesson of the day: Drunk lesbians- WAY more bold than drunk men.

mornings.

Anyone who knows me understands that I am not what you would call a "morning person." I have 3 alarms and still manage to sleep through all of them without knowing. Sleep deprived and "grumpy" to say the least, I get in my car, and travel 25 miles West into Reston, Virginia, along the Capital Beltway and the Dulles Toll Road, paying $2.50 each day in tolls. With morning traffic, it takes me 45 minutes to get to work, relatively painless in the scheme of things. The trip home is more grueling, averaging an hour and a half, usually concluding with my desperate need to pee about 25 minutes from my apartment.

This is probably not good for my health, and I know it's not good for the environment. I'm contributing to pollution and global warming by having this job. Yet another reason for me to quit come the end of July. The more important reason being my need to sit by a pool for a month before I move to Winter Land in Chicago.

Switching gears slightly, coffee has an interesting history... Originated in Ethiopia, and in the 17th century was banned in Turkey for political reasons, and was "associated with rebellious political activities" in Europe. I associate coffee with being able to function on a daily basis at the ass-crack of dawn to converse with middle-aged "adults" with non-existent issues they insist are matters of life and death, in their shiny Lexus SUVs and tricked out BMWs, newly pressed suits and their Coach purses. The topic of the day so far- problems with the au pairs. Give me a fucking break.

In my office, I sit in a 4 quad cubicle area, next to a woman, about 40 years old, who used to be a stay-at-home-mom. Every stupid freaking morning, I walk to my desk, put my stuff down, and before I even turn on my computer, let ALONE have gotten a chance to inject caffeine into my bloodstream via a deliciously hot cup of coffee goodness, I jump at her chipper, perky, high pitched greeting:

Woman (all smiles): "Good Morning Christine! How are you feeling? Did you have a good weekend? Did you work a lot?"

Me (groggy and annoyed): "Hi. Morning. Yes, I worked all weekend."

Woman (all smiles): "Oh well I bet that's good money. Are you tired? Congested? Would you like some tea? I had a good weekend. I'm glad you did too."

wtf. I swear there are rainbows shoved up her butt, I'm surprised she doesn't have sunshiny glow and glitter seeping from her pores in the early morning. This eruption of cheerful perkiness is incredibly difficult for me to deal with and stay polite. Only after I have my coffee, can I attempt to be civil to anyone before noon. She's sitting behind me right now. She just snorted. How lovely.

my new phone

kicks some serious ass. toggle on front (pictured last).

Scariest Bathroom Ever

Imagine you really have to pee. You are directed toward the bathroom, through a hallway with a bamboo screen emmitting a purple glow, which hides the washer and dryer. You walk into the bathroom, close the door, and fumble in the dark to switch on the light. *Click*

You are standing in a bathroom, dark with a red glow, construction lanterns with red light bulbs are dangling from the mirror. The walls are dark, but you can see faint red (bloody) handprints all over the walls and ceiling. The words "help me" are finger-painted in red on the ceiling as well. A mask stares back at you as you're sitting on the toilet. A skeleton hand rests on the sink by the faucet.

A little too Blair Witch for my taste, but creative none-the-less.

The view from the toilet is posted below. The flash is deceiving. The red glow and dark atmosphere is much more creepy than simply a mustard-yellow wall.

Interior decoration credited to:

Michael Hatcher and the demons in his head.

my new kicks

Puma Trionfo

DC Graphic Court

Heelys!!!!

And just for fun... this shirt glows in the dark!

Support our SNORKEL PIG Team!

June 7th is the Race for the Cure in Washington, D.C!

Join our Snorkel Pig Team, or make a donation!

Our Team, the Snorkel Pigs, led by Lorelei Ciardi, is getting ready for the 2nd year in a row to do our part in the race for cure, and support Lorelei's mom, Charmaine.

Back in November, Lorelei (with the help of her friends) put on an incredible fundraiser for the cause. A live band, a silent auction, a raffle, and a singles auction kicked off the event, and together we raised $10,000! Below are photos from the event, Bill, Lorelei and one of her 5 nieces calling out raffle winners, Lorelei coordinating, and Lorelei's mom and dad, followed by a photo of the singles auction girls- Kathleen, Molly, and me.

Please show your support for this cause, and our Team-

the Snorkel Pigs!

Any donation amount is greatly appreciated! Thank you!!!

Planned Planethood

This post is chronologically delayed but I needed it to sink in for a couple years first, since this subject honestly gets me very heated.

Being a planet is a big deal. It's like having a PhD. Even if you're not a physician, you still want people to call you "Doctor." Astronomically, it's quite similar. Consider, when you say "that's half-way around the world." People travel that far in hot-air balloons, and in our selfish, schedule-centered minds, it translates into an incredibly lengthy plane ride, and ending up in a different time zone. However, the context changes if you say, "that's on the other side of the planet." Now, it seems incredible to travel that distance unless you're an astronaut with a jet pack.

Accidentally discovered in 1930 by a 24 year old lab assistant looking for "Planet X," Pluto was significantly smaller than the other planets in our solar system. Below, Pluto (left) and its moon, Charon (right) are compared to the size of the United States.

In 2006, a couple other objects (larger than Pluto) were discovered and classified as dwarf planets, which then prompted experts to reclassify Pluto. This is completely unfair on several levels. That's like having a child, and thinking they're so cute, and then seeing another child down the street, and then saying, "Kid, sorry, you're uglier than I thought compared to those other kids. You're not cute anymore."

But so what?! Just because a dollar bill isn't a $100 bill, it doesn't make it not money! And you would still pick it up if you found it on the street and put it in your pocket. Just because my friend is only 4'11", I don't consider her not an adult.... The same goes for planets, and especially planets, because they're PLANETS! (celestial bodies revolving about the sun and shining by reflected light)

Honestly, unless the reincarnated spirit of Galileo's left nut presents himself to NASA and confirms that indeed Pluto is not a planet, and should only be regarded as an orbiting object, Pluto will always be the 9th planet, in my eyes. Power to the little guys!

Let's also not forget that cartoons are depictions of reality and if we remember the Adventures of the Little Prince, who lived alone on a tiny planet (B6-12) and rode a comet to Earth every day, then we should know that even a tiny planet like B6-12 is still a PLANET. Ok, I'll get off my soapbox now.