Dorm Sweet Dorm

My bunk is the snazziest. They may not allow me to bring my own comforter, but they didn't say I couldn't bring a duvet cover. HA!


It's luggage! It's a handy storage unit! Two, two, two things in...well, you get the idea. If only it made hundreds of julienne fries...


I am, apparently, sharing a dorm room with Cinderella.



Outen? Must be a yankee thing.

Paradise or Prison? Yes.

Sometimes it's not so much where you are as where you're not...

Misplaced in Beantown, and Other Misadventures of the Summer Camp for Adults

Okay, so I finally got to Boston, which is a long story I don't want to go into here. Getting out of Boston was no picnic either. For starters, I don't think the guys at the rental car place gave me the most efficient route to the interstate. What really caused the problem, though, was the lack of signage and lane markings. Well, not so much the lane markings, but that was just weird. Apparently people in New England like to just pull out in front of you too. Oh wait - that's everywhere. It took me about an hour just to get out of the city, and I was stressed out the entire time. There were times when it was just one huge lane full of cars traveling in a blob together. There must be a paint shortage. Once I finally got on I-95, I had the chance to enjoy the spaciousness of my upgraded rental car. Certain that I would get stuck with the blue jelly bean on the lot, I was astounded when the guy instead took me to a Hyundai Sonata with sun roof and XM satellite radio. It has lots of buttons to push, which kept me entertained the entire way to New Hampshire. I found the school without too much trouble, and got settled in. Not as hippy-ish as I had expected, but definitely like summer camp. I did not get much sleep last night (after starting my day at 4:15 a.m.) due to the noises down the hall. I have never heard guys giggle so much in my life. I was really beginning to wonder if they might be having a pillow fight down there. I didn't go look. Not wanting to be the cranky old lady, I hung a blanket across my bunk, but on my eye mask and ear plugs, and did the best I could. I'm not sure I was ever fully asleep, but at least I got some rest of a sort. Tonight I'm hoping that people will be a little more tired and will also respect the quiet hours, but I'm getting out my iPod just incase. A little Sade or something ought to put me right out. I'm just hoping that I can stay awake long enough to do tonight's textbook reading. Not bloody likely, though. I nearly fell asleep on my feet at the local Wal-mart. Ah, camp. I will try to post some photos next time.

The Toxic Circus

As I prepare to head off to the "summer camp for adults", also known as SOLO, I find that I must also deal with the incredible frustrations of subtropical pest management. One of the joys of living in south Florida is having to share one's abode with all manner of creep-leggedy whatsits, one of the favorites being the ever-gnawing, ever-pooping termite. Our entire condo building is about to be tented, and as we were given no real choice in this matter, we have no option but to get on with all the cumbersome preparations associated with this deadly carnival coming to town. Why they make the tents in such cheerful, festive colors I will never understand. The truth is that the whole process is a royal pain in the hindquarters. The tents should be striped black and white, like old-fashioned prison garb. Before the exterminators arrive, we must remove all foods (except those in non-porous containers with factory seals), all living things, including plants, any moisture-proof mattress covers (???), all valuables, and basically anything we don't want to be stolen or destroyed. The company, naturally, has you sign the standard waiver stating that they are not responsible for theft/destruction/residential armageddon, and they suggest that you might think about hiring a security guard. Why? You have to leave all the windows open. Oh, but the house is required to be locked. Oh, except you have to give them a key, and then they'll leave it somewhere when they're done. Eh... There's also a bit about detaching any and all fencing from the house, which is going to be difficult considering ours is cinder block and basically part of the foundation. The outcome of this is that they have to tent over the fencing, which means they kill all the grass and other plants in the yard. I know this because the other building got done last week, and it looks like a targeted agent orange strike. Swell. Raid and D-con make my nose bleed, so I'm glad I'll be up in New Hampshire with the hippies for a few weeks. While the alleged "residue-free" treatment is going on, I will be happily crunching granola and listening to my classmates wax poetic about gnarly climbing routes. Then I'll come home and start the arduous process of washing every fricking thing in the house, because I might be poisoned by the "residue-free" treatment if I don't. I almost prefer the termites because at least they won't creep into my nervous system late at night. Wait 'til I tell the hippies about this...

Dock Devo

Okay, so I was splicing line on the Loggerhead dock a few weeks ago, accompanied by "Loggerhead Jay" and, eventually, Pete, when I had another of my Weird Al possessions. I know - the thought kinda makes you need a shower, doesn't it? But, seriously - if you know me you also know how I tend to parody songs on the spot when my mental radio dial goes spinning. Jay was saying something about one of the old dock lines getting a little sad looking and that if I had the materials he could whip it. What more impetus do you need to run with that? In mere seconds I was singing:

When your line is getting frayed
You must whip it
So your boats don't get away
You must whip it
If your dock line looks like crap
You must whip it
You can't make fast with that
You must whip it

Okay, so I know I added a couple of extra lines, but what do you want off the cuff? I initially considered rewriting the whole song, but decided not to labor it too much. It was much funnier the way it initially came out, and yes, you probably did have to be there. Jay was, and he laughed, so mleh!

The Golden Age (of legwarmers)

How can I explain my love of the 80's? While women everywhere cringe in terror at the sight of 80's fashion filling the stores, I secretly smile and welcome its return. For me that time will always represent a golden age, a time when everything was just so cool. Logically, I suppose it makes no sense. We were terrified of nuclear war; homelessness, famine, and yuppies made the daily headlines, and greed was good. It sounds rather bleak. Somehow, though, jelly shoes, converse high tops in rainbow colors, and MTV made everything alright. I remember being at a friend's house and racing in from the pool to watch the premier of MTV on the local cable network. Our lives were one big Brat Pack movie. The labels could be brutal at times. Whether you were a skater, a bop, or a nerd, some things, at least were consistent. You could always see the bad guy coming because he had blonde, layered hair and was named "Chet" or "Chaz". As long as you held out, though, you knew he would eventually fall in love with the unpopular girl and stop tormenting everyone. Happiness was a piece of neon-hued netting tied around my head ala Madonna. An armful of o-ring bracelets kept boredom at bay, especially if you had the glow-in-the-dark kind. Getting in trouble at school meant you probably got caught with a slam book or had an argument with someone over who "hearts" which boy more, and who reserves the right to scribble it on the bottom of their shoes. You might have idolized Ferries Bueller or Bill and Ted, because they not only escaped school for a day but beat the constant contest for popularity. They also had good hair. If we were really honest with ourselves, none of us actually knew what Brass Monkey or Funky Cold Medina was, but we sure as heck thought it rocked. Those of us who became, in our minds, truly cool "went new wave" and started dressing in plaid and Chinese slippers. We felt that the secret of the universe was contained somewhere within the lyrics to "The End of the World as We Know It", if only we could figure them all out. We went to the fair and got Echo and the Bunnymen or Dead Kennedys painted on our faces, along with an anarchy symbol or two. Our parents, as Will Smith (then The Fresh Prince)put it, our parents just didn't understand. Ah, the 80's. I could go on, but I'm "outtatime". I wonder if putting on a set of shoulder pads would make the day any easier.

Furniture Milestone

Today I bought my first piece of big people furniture:


This is the first piece of legitimate furniture that is not a hand-me-down and did not come out of some box to be assembled by moi. I can hardly wait. I had to order it, so now I have to wait for two weeks before it's delivered. I'm a little lighter in the pockets, sure, but it's gonna be grand. Mine will be in a medium cherry finish to match what furniture I already have. I went with a pretty big manufacturer so that hopefully I can add pieces as time goes on and still have them match. Yay!

The 76 Car Wash - Far Out, Man

Today I decided that my car was finally filthy enough to need washing (that dirty, dirty girl!) and so I headed for the 76 gas station car wash. The one at the Shell station might have gotten it cleaner with the window scrubber guy at one end, the whirly bottle brushes of death inside, and the wipey guy at the exit, but those days are over for the Yeep. The harsh subtropical climate, when paired with her somewhat venerable age (10 yrs.), has led to the beginnings of paint oxidation and the full-on demise of the clearcoat in several areas. So, it's strictly touch-free for me and the old gal now. The water jets don't get her sparkling, but at least they don't make her naked. Anyhow, there I was, enjoying the fantastic show put on by the Ultimate wash (nothing's too good for my Yeep), and rocking along with some AC/DC when the "Clear Protectant" light came on. If you've never experienced this, you must. There are three separate hoses: yellow, blue, and pink. As the arm passes, each hose sprays several lines of coordinating colored foam across the vehicle, creating horizontal stripes that merge seamlessly together in an alternating technicolor pattern. At this very same moment in the wash, "Imagine" came on the radio. The different lines of colored foam began to droop and run together, and all I could see through every window was a fantastic display of psychedelic tie-dye swirling around to the music. A groovy time was had by all. I'm no expert, but I think it usually costs you a little more than $9.00 to see that in the traditional way. Who knew that the 76 car wash was so retro-hip? A few hours later I did drive through some mud holes and besmirch the wash job, but at least I get to go through the wash again. I'm hoping for a Pink Floyd-ian laser experience next. Maybe someday you'll join us, and the world will live as one.

By the way, if you didn't get it, that last line is from Imagine. Jeremy didn't even recognize the song title, so you're not alone.

Yet More Bands

I have been at it again and am not much further with the thing. Can't believe it's taken me this long to pick up on some of the obvious ones, though. I needed to zoom in to figure some out.

Garbage
The Doors
The Police
Phish
Nine Inch Nails
Korn
BeeGees
The Carpenters

More bands...

Okay, upon closer inspection (larger version of the pic), what I thought to be the presidential seal was in fact the back of a half dollar. I am replacing Presidents of the USA with 50 Cent. I also did some creative googling, which is not exactly cheating because I didn't look for any answer lists. Just testing some things I thought might be band names. More possibilities:
Seal
Cowboy Junkies
Stegosaurus
Hole
Madonna
Iron Maiden
Ratt
Big Spoon?
Contortionists
Vines
Crowded House
Mister Yellowman?

Virgin Digital Contest - Guess the Bands

Have you seen this?

Game Poster

Throughout this poster, you are supposed to find graphic representations for 74 bands. It's driving me nuts. I feel like a total underachiever because so far I've only found 32.

Here's what I've got:
Gorillaz
Queen
Matchbox 20
Eagles
Guns 'n' Roses
Rolling Stones
Led Zeppelin
Alice in Chains
Smashing Pumpkins
White Zombie
Pixies
Whitesnake
Cypress Hill
Beach Boys
Black Flagg
Deep Purple
Green Day
U2
B-52's
Chili Peppers
Cornershop
Scissor Sisters
Blur
Presidents of the USA
Sex Pistols
Lemonheads
Radiohead
Eels
Prince
Blind Melon
Cars
Dead Kennedys

Don't Open That Box

Here is the part where I offend someone by saying that I am opposed to embryonic stem cell research.

The above link will take you to the White House's fact sheet. I am just so, so, so horrified and disturbed by this whole thing. What have we become when we are willing to cannibalize our own children for parts?!?

"Federal funds will only be used for research on existing stem cell lines that were derived:


(1) with the informed consent of the donors;
(2) from excess embryos created solely for reproductive purposes; and
(3) without any financial inducements to the donors. "

I think I would rather adopt than undergo fertility treatments that create these "excess embryos" to be weeded out and killed. Financial inducements - ah, there's the big one. Ever hear of the black market? There are already children in this world being raised just as slaves for pornography and prostitution, so is it really a stretch to imagine embryo farms? Think about it, people. Once you open that box...somebody will do it. Somebody will do it and most everyone will deny that it is happening because it is just too horrible for them to think about.

I'm sure that there are plenty of very lovely people out there whose lives could be improved and prolonged by this research. I just don't think this is the way. I would rather accept death than take the life of a child. I am really outraged by the fabulously wealthy celebrities who are trying to push this forward. This is the ultimate in greed. I don't know if it's the ultimate in evil, but I'm pretty sure it's damn close.

Christmas List

www.kaboodle.com

Lyrical Derailment

I would like to apologize, loyal readers, for the sudden derailment of lyrics week on the Mailboat. Due to unforeseen circumstances, it just plain didn't happen like I'd planned it. Between landings of Cuban refugees, web filters running amok, and internet outages of various durations and kinds, I am lucky to be able to post at all this month. At the moment I am sitting in a little brick cell connected to the satellite, listening to the 30-knot winds blow outside. The trip I made over to Loggerhead this afternoon was nothing short of moist. My underdrawers are still a bit sodden from the walls of seawater that kept leaping over the deck. Yes, I am too lazy to change them - it's my day off, for Pete's sake. At least I put on underwear! At the moment I am barely containing my excitement over next week's trip to Disney World. My enjoyment of the place has morphed into full-blown fanaticism, and I spend a large portion of my day planning and daydreaming about it. I'm not sure I can entirely explain this obsession, but what I do know is that I'm always happy when I am there. That kind of enjoyment is hard for me to come by these days, so I take full advantage of it whenever I can. It's probably because it's the only time I manage to more or less turn off the cop thing, so I can step outside my usual state of cynicism and irritation.

So, what do you, the loyal readers, have to look forward to next? You guessed it - Disney photos and anecdotes! I can feel your excitement from here. Now, if you will excuse me, I must go pack.

Monday - U Li La Lu

You've probably never heard of Poi Dog Pondering. Neither had I until a college friend played their song, U Li La Lu, incessantly on the tape deck of his POS. It's an odd song, really, sound-wise, but I always liked the first couple of lines.

Wear with pride these scars on your skin
They're a map of the adventures, the places you've been

I've got a pretty decent map. What about you? Funny how you can point out scars and usually remember exactly what happened to put them there and when they occurred. For example, the "dimple" just below my left temple came to me the day before St. Pat's when I was about 11 years old. I was lying on the floor with one of my friends painting the banner that our Girl Scout troop would carry in Atlanta's parade the next day. My sister, then 3, climbed up on the sofa and dragged up a very sharp-cornered footstool that my uncle had made. She then proceeded to rock the footstool back and forth, back and forth, until she finally lost control of it and it lurched off of the sofa and onto my head. Another fraction of an inch and she could have killed me! Much to my embarrassment, I had to march in the St. Patrick's Day parade with a big goose egg on the side of my head. Now when I tell people that my sister gave me that "dimple", they usually ask me if she is a plastic surgeon. What a prodigy she was!

Where do your scars take you?

Sunday - Mayberry

Sunday was the day of rest
Now it's one more day for progress
...

There was a time when I might have asked "What happened to Sunday?" Now it seems more appropriate to ask "What happened to rest?"

Why do we have to live in a world where there is so little time for rest, worship, family, and so many other things that are integral to our human experience? Why have we upped competition to such a level that survival of the fittest demands our every waking moment (and more waking moments, at that) be spent working? Is it part of a natural cycle? Leisure does seem to be something of a modern invention. However, even in the early days of this country, Sunday was different from the rest of the week. Sunday was special. People made time for Sunday.

Wouldn't it be nice if I could choose not to work on Sunday, Christmas, Easter, etc. and still have a job? Wouldn't it be great if families had that one day a week to spend together, rather than squeezing in moments here and there? Yeah, sometimes I miss Mayberry too...

Saturday - Daysleeper

I see today with a newsprint fray
my night is colored headache grey
don't wake me with so much
daysleeper
...
ocean machine is set to 9
I'll squeeze into heaven and valentine
my bed is pulling me
gravity
daysleeper

These lyrics are selected from REM's "Daysleeper". I have never gone digging around for the full intended meaning of the song, but it's one that rattles around my head alot while working long night shifts. It is an entirely different world that runs silently along while most other people are sleeping. It's very easy to begin feeling disassociated with reality when you work there. This song popped into my head again today as I was struggling up from the couch to go out and take down the flag. Though I have been away and not subject to those 3 am callouts for a few weeks, I did not sleep well last night and was very happy when my day was at last over. I took an unintentional snooze on the couch in front of the TV once off shift, making it very difficult to get back up again and see to the rest of the off-the-clock "stuff" I had yet to do. Amazing how gravity seems to increase on the truly tired. In these situations it always seems like there is something pressing in on me, and I have to work hard at acheiving escape velocity. Often nights when I am working I feel that pull toward the sheets, wishing that I could just go doze off for an hour or two. Sleep becomes the ultimate luxury. Going back on a night shift after a period of dayurnal activity makes the whole world fuzzy. For me, that "headache gray" exists in the period of struggling to stay awake and alert while attempting to readjust against the body's natural sleep rhythms. The world becomes confused a bit - I am there but not there. It is always difficult at first. There is that sense of unreality, for sure. Now, as I am a bit fuzzy at the moment from my little nap, I think I will head back and see what else I can get done before my bed starts calling me again.

It's Lyrics Week On The Mailboat

Beginning tomorrow, I will feature a daily post in which I wax poetic about a particular set of song lyrics or segments thereof. Possibly I may just skip the poetic part and launch into one of my regular ramblings. I just don't know. It's almost like "Anything Can Happen" week, but at a slightly higher parental rating than the Mickey Mouse Club. I bet you're so excited you could just pee! Patience. As I said, posts begin tomorrow. Oh, and I also use the term Lyrics Week rather loosely, as the week of posts will likely only run until Wednesday or Thursday - whenever I lose internet access again. These are the breaks. Well, anyway, enjoy tomorrow and whatever may come next!

Greetings from Fort Lauderdale

Well, it seems that my big rant about the Miami airport might have angered the travel gods a wee bit. After a decent streak of about a year, travel disaster has once again come my way. I am, as I type, sitting in front of the TJ Cinnamons in concourse C of the Fort Lauderdale - Hollywood International Airport. This is one thing I love about this airport: free wireless internet throughout. Anyhoo, my plane out of Philly was late picking me up, then weather patterns caused them to cancel all northbound flights. You are probably wondering how this affected a flight to Ft. Lauderdale. Well, lemme tell ya. Seems there were a bunch of northbound planes already in line ahead of us on the runway, and some that had already taken off had to turn around and land again. This created a giant slide puzzle of aircraft which took a couple of hours to work out. Lucky me, I was seated in the middle of a row of 3 right next to a portly gentleman who had many, many anecdotes to share. Nice guy, but it was physically impossible for him to not encroach on my space. I finally arrived back here in Florida around 8:55 p.m., one hour after my connecting flight to Key West landed in Key West. Obviously there are not many flights to the keys on a daily basis, so yours truly had to get re-ticketed for 8:40 a.m. By the time I wrestled my bags away from the baggage carousel, got to a hotel, walked to McDonalds for a bite, and finally got to bed, it was 11:30. Getting back up at 5:30 and doing it all again was simply not fun. Enter TSA. For reasons unknown I have been getting the black spot for years at the screening area. This was my day to get the full-on glove and swab treatment. To their credit, the TSA agents were very nice and once they discovered my credentials were very chatty and interested in hearing about my job. This, thankfully, helped pass the time. I was fascinated by all the wiping of bags and electronics, especially my iPod. Thinking I was being smart and saving time in line, I had removed my steel-toed boots prior to entering the queue, which apparently I was supposed to wear into the puffer/sniffer thingy. As I had already placed them in the bin, they got the swab treatment too. So now here I am, in front of TJ Cinnamons, enjoyig a nice chocolate milk because they were all out of white. Add that to the over-iced cinnamon roll and I am super sugared-up for the plane. I am so looking forward to a home-cooked meal and a long night in my own bed. Thankfully I am done with air travel for a little over a month. Now if the Seven Mile Bridge will just stay clear...

Philly - Who knew?

I had no idea Philadelphia was such a cool town. There are about a zillion cool restaurants, bars, and stores I would like to visit and I only have 5 days! Not even five full days! Tonight I dined in an exceptional restaurant called Morimoto. The creation of Iron Chef Masaharu Morimoto, it is truly an incredible dining experience. It's a little spendy, but they at least deliver exceptional service, cuisine, and style for the price. The design of the dining space alone makes it worth a trip. The decor and mood of the restaurant are so hypnotic that we were barely conscious of the din of conversation. The meal was quite exceptional, and the presentation so artful that it seemed almost a shame to consume it. There are about a zillion things in Philly to do as well. I'll never cover all of the historical sites at one go. I'm wishing that I had known about all of this while I was still living in Maryland. It would have been a perfect getaway weekend for when I wanted my "big city" fix without going to D.C. Oh well. Perhaps I will come back someday. I have to at least make it to the Liberty Bell while I am here.