vitals.dc. real dish for dc women

2009-01-28T20:01:00.004-05:00

vitals for 01.28.09

8 beers in one tasting session = whoa.
8 swallows of blessed belgian beer (made using the famous monk brewing philosophy/process), with european appropriate alcohol levels (not the lame 3.5% that most people imbibe in the U.S.), sloshing around in my body = whoa.
belgian beer is quite delicious. i do realize this is subjective.
A 2008 Gallup poll:

42 % of the U.S. drinkers surveyed most often consume beer
This compares to the 31 % who picked wine and 23 % who preferred spirits

Three Philosophers
Ommegang
(owned by Duvel but located in sweet Cooperstown, NY. as a side note, I really like Cooperstown--cozy and yummy little restaurants and shopping. then there's the elephant in the room - i learned a lot during my visit. it's a very accessible experience )

delicious, smooth, rich, dessert-y but not in a sweet way, in a savory way (red/orange in color)

Abbey Ale
Ommegang

a little bitter, but also flavorful; I dig it (also red/orange in color)

Duvel

a slight honey taste, nice and smooth, quite enjoyable

Maredsous
owned by Duvel

a general note about the Maredsous - I didn't really care for any of the three that I tried (Dubbel 8, Triple 10 and Blonde 6)
note: triple 10 = 10% alcohol (serious freakin' arse kisser)

Hennepin
Ommegang

i liked Hennepin - i found it flavorful, a nice golden color and smooth; something easy to eat my veggie stir fry with (asian-belgian fusion anyone?)

Witte
Ommegang

I enjoyed this beer as well - a teensy bitter, but in a flavorful and savory way, light and smooth (and thankfully, not 10% alcohol content)

2007-11-01T16:58:00.001-04:00

Livin' the Dream, baby!

I just got back from an event that was Pure Corporate Gold and I have to share. We have these quarterly happy hours that coincide with earnings. Generally we all congratulate each other for our awesomeness and general market domination, the CEO gives a speech, etc... This time was special because we actually posted a HUGE loss in the 3rd Quarter so the normal "delights" of this event were dampened. But it was still good for a laugh--if you like to laugh at the expense of others. Which I do.

Allow me to set the scene: All 700 employees in the building gather in the cafeteria. There is beer and wine and cokes in tubs of ice, and a spread of strange, fried crap supplied by Aramark or whoever the hell it is we employ to cook the gruel served in our cafeteria.

The CEO is on a podium--he says some stuff that sounds good, but is probably all lies/platitudes intended to keep us from storming the executive suite with torches and pitchforks. The same people always stand right up front, where they make a big show of clapping very hard and nodding their heads when these words of reassurance are uttered. These are the same people that, during the requisite Q&A session, ask questions such as "Don't you believe the company is poised for great success?"

After standing around and pretending to listen to the CEO, the food-shoveling commences in earnest. In general, there are a lot of people who treat this event as if it were their last supper on Planet Earth. There are often people who complain about "line-cutting" and "double-dipping." These are frequent and egregious offenses, most often perpetrated by members of the IT staff, who are apparently underfed. The highlight of this spread is generally a giant vat of overcooked, rubbery shrimp cocktail, which people fight over as if it is the last piece of crustacean on earth. Cubes of machine-cut "cheese product" the exact size of dice are also a crowd favorite.

While most (like myself) have to go back to work after the "festivities," there are certainly some who stay in the cafeteria for the next 2 hours getting bombed and repeating phrases like "loan originations" and "preferred channel" and "lender yield." Those who must actually return to work often attempt to surreptitiously smuggle booze and lukewarm pigs in a blanket back to their offices, where they presumably scarf them down while dribbling stray bits into their keyboards.

Which is a long way of saying: I think this place is killing my soul.

Over and Out,
Viola

PS--sorry we've been outta commission so long, readers! Um, I mean: reader!

2006-09-22T09:59:00.000-04:00

An Ode to White Zinfandel
by G.J. Pitre

Zinfandel! The grape delicious!
Goes fine with meats! Ain't bad with fishes!

Of all the produce of the vine
Is there another half as fine?

So order up a glass of blush
And feel the mighty sugar rush!

‘Cuz who needs tannins, notes of peat?
Just gimme something super-sweet!

The only wine that, should you call
The Kool-Aid Guy busts through the wall.

Other wines may rot your brain
And put your liver under strain

But only one of them, my sweeties,
Will guarantee you diabetes

So next time you sit down to dine
And hanker for a glass of wine

Don’t hesitate, or stop to think
Just order up the one that’s pink.

"May I present your wine, dear sir?
The Oh-Five, House of Berenger."

Enjoy it, every cloying sip…
…and don’t forget my fucking tip.

2006-08-25T18:45:00.000-04:00

Hello World. Vitals is alive. Did you miss us?
(see two new posts, below)

The return of school, the return of Vitals: Backpacks, notepads, PDAs, laptops, books (like, we still have those crazy, physical objects called books?!) and a handful of writers whose crazy, everyday life experiences are antipated and revered by our ever growing reader base = colorful, worth slacking on your "real work" reading. Like, for sure.

Speaking of valley girl talk, the 80's are making a comeback vis-a-vis high-end (haute) fashion and main stream (the gap) fashion. I went through the leg warmer and pegged jeans combo, side ponytail and flats phase once. I was ten. Now, I'm slightly older, (although, the woman at the DMV today blurted, to the entire 100 person room, that I look 16) and my sophisticated and flatering cut countoured pants should be turned in for "skinny" jeans. Jesus. And they say carb dieting is out?!

Couldn't some marketing phenom call them something else? Where are the marketing terms that we have grown custom to:
Bootcut = Hip hiders and ass minimizing
Contoured = Low fitting and loose
Skinny = starve yourself for a month and jam yourself into spandex-ey jean hell; wear long tunic and look very "indie" while drinking PBR

For now, I'm sticking with the ass minimizing look and working on my Ban Urban Outfitters campaign.

smooches, antigone

2006-08-23T15:18:00.000-04:00

A Refutation of the Muscular Morality Argument

I shamelessly ripped this quote off of one of the many foodie blogs I spend too many work hours perusing. Just too good not to share. Nigella Lawson ROCKS MY FACE!!

"I don't disparage the shallow concerns of the ordinarily vain, which, after all, I share. What I hate is all this new-age voodoo about eating, the notion that foods are either harmful or healing, that a good diet makes a good person and that that person is necessarily lean, limber, toned and fit. Quite apart from anything else, I don't see the muscular morality argument. Why should a concern for your physical health be seen as a sign of virtue? Such a view seems to me in danger of fusing Nazism (with its ideological cult of physical perfection) and Puritanism (with its horror of the flesh and belief in salvation through denial)."

--Nigella Lawson, from "How to Eat: The Pleasures and Principles of Good Food"

2006-08-16T13:42:00.000-04:00

Rasika for Restaurant Week

I can report on 2 spots from last night. Had a pre-dinner drink at Jaleo, and (tho we did not eat there) it was not mobbed as I thought it might be--in fact, there were a number of empty tables at 8pm and the bar was practically deserted. Might be that the $30 RW offering is not such a bargain at Jaleo--as their tapas price-point is already pretty low.

My party of 5 then scooted over to Rasika and we all did the RW menu, which consisted of about 5 choices for each course (with free rice and naan)--not bad compared to some places that offer very limited menus. The place is lovely and overall I'd rate it a positive RW experience.

I started with the palak chaat (fried spinach w yogurt and tamarind) and--Hallelujah!-- it did live up to all the raves it has received! Mmmmm... I love taking something so healthy and making it so divinely unhealthy. Now to figure a delicious way to fry up celery.

Course 2 was the chicken makhani. The sauce was lovely, though stunningly rich and filling. The chicken however, was a bit fatty--I'm not complaining that they used something more flavorful than chunks of boneless, skinless breast like lots of places, I just would like all the fatty skin bits removed from my chicken thigh is all... probably just a personal quibble.

Dessert was just ok--the chocolate ice cream with pistachios and honey was mediocre. Tasted like haagen daz with lots of nuts swirled in. No honey, that I could tell. The lychee sorbet was another snooze.

Service was just...peculiar. Our waiter was truly a weirdo, and offered his (unasked-for) opinion on more that one occasion. Point in case: someone at the table tried to order the Halwa and he said "Don't. You won't like it. Trust me."Just thought that was a bit strange--for all he knows we could be the DC chapter of the Shredded Carrot Fan Club...

2006-02-09T17:10:00.000-05:00

Nawlin's dreaming...

A group of us went one Saturday evening to Acadiana for a birthday celebration. In the interest of full disclosure, I must add that the birthday girl was a former employee of the company and we had mentioned as much in our reservation. I'm sure thankful we did! Because considering the price-point, the service was pretty lackluster despite our insider connection. I tell you, I'd hate to see the non-VIP treatment! Specifically, we had completely finished out appetizers and were still holding the menus on our laps by the time our main-course orders were taken! In addition we were not told until it was time to order our entrees that they were sold out of the shrimp, which was pretty big let-down for the birthday girl, who had her mouth quite set for the dish.
Crummy service aside, the food was pretty fantastic--though a Cajun would shudder at "traditional" dishes that hover in the $20-30 range.

The pre-dinner Pimms Cup cocktail put me in a forgiving mood though--and had me back on Marigny Street in New Orleans.

I was delighted to see that the hot, buttery biscuits were served with a small pot of cream cheese and pepper jelly--one of my faaaavorite treats in the world, and a nice homey touch. The apps were all well-executed--crisp and greaseless fried green tomatoes topped with firm shrimp in a slightly spicy remoulade, the duo of beef and crawfish turnovers were delightful (though no better than the Natchitoches meat pies you can get a Shreveport's annual Red River Revel for a $1), and the gumbo was made with a dark, complex roux, just that way I like it! The deviled eggs were tasty, but chintzy--I mean, seriously, $7 for three egg halves? It was not even enough to share at the table.

The grillades and grits were decadent--the jalapeño grits had just the right amount of spice and the savory gravy coating the thin-pounded veal slices was rich and amply-seasoned.
Word has it that the beef filet was well-cooked, but to my mind that’s a dish you can order anywhere—I know restaurants have to feature a high-end beef dish… but still…YAWN.

We had a selection of desserts, which were all pretty good, but none standout. The Bananas Foster crepes were good, but not awesome, and the chocolate bread pudding was just too dense... could not help thinking wistfully of the best dessert that ever passed my lips--the bread pudding soufflé with bourbon cream at Commander's Palace...oh mercy...that was deee-vine. This was no comparison. The mini-pralines and heavenly hash served with the check were a charming touch, but wasted entirely on us…we were stuffed to the gills by that time. Too bad.
I guess it goes to show that DC is a far cry from New Orleans, no matter how you slice the redfish. And baby, there's nothing like the real thing!

Laissez le bon temps rouler!

2006-02-05T18:55:00.000-05:00

Trekkin'

I'm about to haul myself down south for a little r & r and I'm pretty damn excited. I love adventure and last minute travel, I just don't do it enough. I'm actually traveling for the pure reason that I want to experience some place new and see what kind of trouble I can get into (or, stay out of). The past two weeks have been pretty mellow, but also really wonderful. I liberated myself from an employment situation that just wasn't a good match for me, I've been doing some organizing around my house, working on the backyard, hanging out with some new and old friends, reading and just taking it all in. I like the fact that this mini holiday is about adventure, not escapism because truly, there is nothing here that I don't like.

Well, OK, there are some things I wish I could change, such as the parking cop who tickets me if I don't move my car by 7:05am and the man who practically screamed at me for entering the express lane at the supermarket with more than 15 items. Everything else (I'm avoiding going into a political diatribe to spare the vitals' readership) is pretty much enjoyable, dealable and/or part of my DC life. I can't believe that I'm actually feeling a little down because I wish I could take all of my friends with me. Just stuff them into my Kelty bag and know that they'll do just fine in the freezing under-belly of the plane. As soon as I land, I'll set them free and we'll all party down on the beach, like one happy family. Of course, I realize everyone will need to thaw and maybe get a little hydration, but my friends are survivors and tough. I know, this is a slightly twisted travel fantasy.

Well my friends, I'll be thinking about you all while I sip some cocktails and stare at the unbelievably turquoise colored water and dip my toes in the sugar-like grains that compose the beach area.

2006-01-30T09:39:00.000-05:00

Stop and smell the roses, darling
Or, cabbage

We rarely sit still. For me, I'm still haunted by a guest speaker who came to my middle school and from what I remember, basically said us women folk would be failures if we weren't wives, executives, mothers and volunteers all wrapped up in one neat package. And I thought I had accomplished something by putting myself through grad school; clearly, I have some work to do.
I'm not sure I want to run around like a crazed, busy person constantly stressed out and missing out on all of the subtle moments. I like the quiet, contemplative times even though I have a hard time accepting that it's OK to not save the world by one's self.

This is why I'm really looking forward to creating a garden in my backyard, which, is currently a rocky and brick filled disaster. I'm going to create a space where I can sip my morning coffee, read, entertain friends and do a little gardening and cultivate tasty green things. This weekend, I was lucky enough to experience Dumbarton Oaks through the eyes of someone who is passionate about gardening, outside space and natural environments. Dumbarton is an amazing 15 acres of huge, old trees (often sculpture-like in presence), installation art, garden pools, flowers, vines, and space. Lots of space. Probably very lush and beautiful come spring time.

2006-01-18T10:55:00.000-05:00

It ain't just for the ladies any longer...

Howdy and meeYOW to our faithful male readers out there--today is a momentous occaision in the Annals (that's with 2 Ns) of Vitals History--our first male contribution!

Kudos to the Y chromasome! (now, if we can get a certain Snake to write about his deep man-love for Chuck Norris...)

Brokeback Mountain: A Straight Man’s Perspective

So the other week I went to see "Brokeback Mountain" with my fiancée. I can’t claim it was "her idea"—we actually both wanted to see it. We’re definite film aficionados and like it or not, this is a historically significant film. I’ve also been a fan of Jake Gyllenhaal’s work since "Donnie Darko" and felt he was coming off a strong performance in "Jarhead." Heath Ledger I can take or leave, but "10 Things I Hate About You" (and his performance of "Can’t Take My Eyes Off of You") was classic and enough to earn my respect.

Now I’ve had some straight friends joke to me that they didn’t go see this one because they were afraid to discover they were secretly gay; and then they might have to divorce their wives or something. I can’t say I quite had that reaction. I had my inevitable flinch moment when Ledger and Gyllenhaal first kissed (as Liberal as I am, folks, it just didn ’t feel natural to me), but the "sex" after that actually more closely resembled some fights I’ve seen, or perhaps the Greco-Roman wrestling I used to do in high school. A lot of the time I couldn’t tell if these guys were beating the shit out of each other or making love. Ladies, if you like rough sex, this is the one for you. You’ll be fantasizing for weeks after seeing these studs literally maul each other with passion.

But, ultimately, what was harder for me to deal with was not the intimate scenes but the intense feeling of loneliness and despair that permeated the film, particularly in its second half. The emotional weight of "Brokeback" was incredible and it really humanized the story. It’s a tremendous credit to Larry McMurtry and Diana Ossana (who wrote the screenplay) that by the end of the picture you’ve forgotten you’re watching a "gay" film at all.

The gay issue inevitably comes up, however, and recently, when I was talking to a woman at a party about the film, she asked me if I was "homosexual friendly" for having seen it. Apparently, she knew a lot of straight men who had taken a pass on "Brokeback," and she was impressed by my willingness to open my mind or heart or whatever.

Is it really that big a deal? Heck, it’s 2006, not the Middle Ages. If a guy can’t make it through a two-hour Hollywood film with his sexuality intact, how’s he going to one day make it through a marriage, fatherhood, old age, death? Let’s get real, people. Then again, come to think of it, I grew up around a group of friends who wouldn’t even admit they masturbated until age 30 or so.

Cowboy Up!

Brokeback Mountain

---LaddDC

2006-01-17T12:36:00.000-05:00

How You Compare to Your CEO

The AFL-CIO website has this horrifying little widget where you can enter your annual income and compare yourself against one or many of the top dollar CEOs.

I compared myself to Terry Semel, CEO of Yahoo!; I would love to have his job one day, but not because of his $109 million+ compensation package. I mean, I certainly wouldn't complain; however, as the CEO, you are tasked with providing vision, drive, innovation, trend-setting, and technology advancement for one of the most enterprising web/internet companies in the world. I want that job.

Here's my comparison:
You would have to work 1235 years to equal Terry S. Semel's 2004 compensation.
You'd better get working, because you can't take a vacation until 3240 A.D.

Awesome.

2006-01-13T12:35:00.000-05:00

Use in a sentence, win a prize (or, just impress your friends)

sesquipedalian

1. Given to or characterized by the use of long words.

2. Long and ponderous; having many syllables.

Store this one away in a special place - it deserves to be dusted off and thrown into casual conversation whenever possible. Or, see how many drinks it takes to completely butcher its pronunciation.

I'm waiting for the perfect moment when I can throw this into an IM chat with my father, who may be the only person in the entire world that insists on using correct grammar and spelling while having an IM conversation. I guess that makes me the only person who always has dictionary.com ready and available when commencing in the act of IM'ing.

Speaking of - fun additions to our vernacular:
IM'ing
Googling/Google
Pinging/Ping

Podding, i.e., I'm Podding (listening to my ipod), can't speak with you at the moment

Cubeland

.Com (as in, "my company has gone .com" - either the person's company has purchased way too many pieces of Herman Miller furniture or the company has gone belly up)
Blogging

2006-01-11T09:41:00.000-05:00

Supreme Court Justices take responsibility and

must be accountable; this applies to you too, Judge Alito

It's very simple to me. Memory. Recall. Supreme Court justices are expected to have sharp minds that are agile, they must be articulate and introspective and can always speak to their opinions, whether they are welcomed or repudiated by the public and press. Perhaps Alito needs to take some gingko biloba or reach deep into his mind and extract those suppressed memories in order to face the Senate committee with confidence and honesty.

"Well, Senator, I have wracked my memory about this issue, and I really have no specific recollection of that organization." (NYT transcript, Day 2)

This was Alito's response to Senator Leahy's question regarding his association with Princeton's CAP group.

I just don't buy it. I can't help but think of the Iran/Contra situation, Clinton and Lewinsky, and Abu Ghraib. All parties implicated in the forementioned situations denied accountability until the media ate away the bullshit and revealed (while simultaneously forcing) the guilty party to take responsibility or find a willing group of scapegoats. One can't help but visualize the memorable Tootsie Pop commercial with the owl gleefully licking the lollipop until he reaches the Tootsie candy center.

One thing Alito did pull off, was providing answers that veered from the original question. Again, regarding the CAP question, Alito stated that he didn't recall his association with CAP and then launched right into his recollection about the expulsion of Princeton's ROTC unit. His thoughts about this situation were relevant only because he was both involved with and believed in ROTC. Of course, these details had nothing to do with the specific question asked by Senator Leahy. Misdirection and avoidance, though politically shrewd, are not characteristics of a Supreme Court justice. No one has made perfect decisions or calculations in the game of life, but there are plenty of us who are willing to own up to our faults or mis judgments.

2006-01-06T16:47:00.000-05:00

Residential Street Cleaning in DC Suspended Jan. 9-March 17

From a DC Department of Public Works press release:

Daytime Residential Street Sweeping Will Be Suspended January 9 Through March 17, 2006

Street Cleaning Along Major Arterials Continues All Winter

(Washington, DC) As it does every winter, the Department of Public Works (DPW) will temporarily suspend routine residential street cleaning from January 9 to March 17, 2006. During this time, “No Parking/Street Cleaning” restrictions will be lifted. Residents and visitors who park along posted, alternate-side, daytime street sweeping routes will not be required to move their cars on street-sweeping days during the sweeper hiatus.

Residential street cleaning resumes Monday, March 20, 2006.

However, overnight sweeping scheduled for the District’s major arterials (such as Pennsylvania, Georgia, Constitution, Independence Avenues, and others) will take place as usual all winter, with the attendant parking ban during sweeping hours. Motorists are urged not to park in these areas during the posted overnight hours.

As colder weather approaches, motorists are also reminded that during declared snow emergencies, vehicles can be ticketed and towed if they remain parked on designated snow emergency routes. Look for the red and white signs before parking this winter.

2006-01-06T09:56:00.000-05:00

Convergence: embrace it

Unless you are my best friend who lives on a gorgeous parcel of land outside of Fairbanks, AK, you are dependent, in some way or another, on princess Technology. Pants pockets are no longer the home to loose change, lint or crumpled-up gum wrappers; they have recently been housing more desired and sometimes even sexy objects such as Motorola's Razor cell phone, the RIM Blackberry, an iPod or Nano, possibly a TRIO and sometimes even a pocket PC. For some, one bulge is just not enough and all of these objects must rattle together in order for the individual to feel complete.

If all of these gadgets aren't enough, imagine that your television (some people do still refer to it as a shrine) is also introducing its own accoutrements, but these little extras aren't something that you click, dial or play. Your television's future "extras" will give any couch potato the ability to interact with what we currently refer to as web content in addition to traditional television programming. Web content is not just invading your TV, but your cell and Blackberry too. If we're not currently bombarded with enough information, we'll have the ability to really get our fix the moment we plop down at home to the minute we run out the door the next morning.

Don't for a minute think this information push is all about informing you, intriguing you and or offering you more choices. This is all about knowing who you are, your demographic definition and what strata you fall into and pushing selected advertisers directly to you.

I will admit that I don't particularly loath advertisers - I feel like I have enough self-control to not purchase every diet drug, kitchen apparatus or skin tightening serum that is dancing across my TV set these days. I do loath losing my anonymity. Sometimes I want to just research something without receiving a customized email five minutes after I navigate away from a specific website. There are certainly easy ways to prevent this, such as rejecting Cookies, always using bogus email addresses, etc., but there are companies that mine for your data and the next thing you know, text messages are appearing from advertisers who have organized you into an advanced cellphone strata because they have access to data that shows you send/receive more than 30 text messages a month.

I think I'm going to tie two empty cans together with some old fashion string and use that as my means as communication. C'mon, the crazy lady look is in...check out the Olsen twins these days-they are the leaders of this "sack" style fashion trend.

2005-12-30T11:10:00.000-05:00

DC Restaurant Week, January 9-15--the Beast is Back

Yeah, I know that all my food service buddies would rather get an itchy rash on their nether-regions than deal with the unwashed hordes at yet another Restaurant Week. But for those of us whose food-serving days are well over, it sure is a good way to try out some new eateries on the cheap--3 courses, prix fix at $20.06 for lunch and $30.06 for dinner. Problem with RW is that at some places those prices aren't much of a deal--for instance, you'd have to pay ME 30 bucks to eat a meal at Tony & Joes at the Georgetown harbor (shudder).

But remember, when making your selection--a general rule of thumb is that the pricier the establishment, the more limited their RW options tend to be--which makes sense, considering they’d lose their shirts on food costs otherwise. In the past I’ve had fairly pleasant experiences at Bistro Bis, Vidalia, and Ten Penh. I also had a fairly craptastic experience at New Heights (boring food, few choices, and lackluster service). Got any good RW stories of your own?

Here is my short list of places I'd like to check out this time around:

Acadiana
IndeBleu
Zengo
1789
Corduroy
Rasika
Dino
Tabard Inn

Let me know if you have been to any of these spots for RW--I'd love to know how they performed.

MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMmmmmmmmmm, food-dah!

Viola

2005-12-29T13:08:00.000-05:00

Weekly Stats for Vital Fans

This week features a random selection of slightly disturbing stats

Amount of money Americans spent on chocolate in 2004: $15 billion
Source: NPD Group (reported in The New York Times) , 6/19/2005
Number of brands recognized by the average American 3 year-old: 100
Source: Albany Times Union, 2/2/2000
Average weight of a mall Santa: 218 pounds
This number is down from 225 pounds in 1997
Source: General Growth Properties Santa survey
Last words spoken on the moon: "OK, let's get this mother out of here"
The words were spoken by Eugene Cernan, an astronaut on Apollo 17. Apollo 17 was the last spaceship to visit the moon, departing on Dec. 14, 1972.
Source: The Observer, 4/29/2001
Average annual fees and tuition in 2005 at a nonpublic American university: $29,026
Source: Chronicle of Higher Education, 10/28/2005
Amount the NRA has provided student gun clubs since 1990 to purchase guns to promote "responsible firearms handling" : $61 million
Source: Spokesman Review, 4/14/2004
Number of Americans without health insurance in 2004: 45.8 million
Up 800,000 from 2003. Source: Washington Post, 9/4/2005
Number of world's poorest people necessary to match the income of the world's 500 richest individuals: 416 million
In other words, when added together, the world's poorest 416 million people have the same income as the 500 richest inhabitants of our planet.
Source: The Guardian (London), 9/8/2005

2005-12-29T11:26:00.000-05:00

Karmic Retribution Can Kiss My Lily-White Ass

Yep, I know it's been a while since I’ve pimped out my personal life for online laughs (got burned on that one when the ex-BF found this blog--yeeOUCH) but I just love you all so much--and trust you not to judge, lest you too be judged (and you KNOW you've done some baaaad stuff--you're just smart enough not to tell the blogosphere about it)

Anyhoo...

Yesterday I was shamelessly slacking on doing actual work and exchanging snarky IMs with a coworker. The verbal jousting had been going on for some time, and reached its zenith when said coworker began to taunt me over the "wall" of my "office" (read: cube). To squelch his 'tude once and for all, I sent the following message to Coworker X: "Shove it, ass-monkey." Turns out however, that I actually send the missive to MY EFFING BOSS. Who then responded with a confused "What?!" to which I replied (I shit you not) "You heard me." It was at this point that I realized I had IMed the wrong person, and sent profuse apologies to BossLady, who took it with amazing grace and humor. Still, my new office nickname appears to be Ass-Monkey. Which is just the super-professional tone I was hoping to set in my new management role with BigCompany. Awesome.

To add insult to injury, I found myself confronted with more karmic reality later the same evening at a local watering hole, where I encountered A) some bartender I drunkenly gave my number to months ago, accompanied by a sluttish note that I think may have actually contained the words "hottie" and "call me!!!" Urg. and B) VisorBoy, who you may recall being featured in an earlier post on this very blog. Thankfully, I kept my eyes on my beer and avoided an embarrassing conversation with both, but still--last night seemed much like Viola's Greatest Hits of Drunken Miscalculations. If only some guy named "Cheyenne" (for real, people) from college had showed up--could have been the trifecta.

Sooo... Karmic lessons learned: 1.) don't hit on the bartender--no good can come of it, and you will not get your drinks comped 2.) do NOT blog about bad sexual encounters, even if they were kinda funny (and may I re-emphasize--VERY VERY BAD) and 3.) stop fucking off at work.

Oops, already screwed up that last one.
Gotta run!

Kisses,
Viola

2005-12-27T08:56:00.000-05:00

Holiday giving

One of the greatest gifts you can give is a donation in someone else's name...

Heifer International
When I first heard about the types of gifts that Heifer gives to families in developing countries, I thought they sounded too practical to be true. Heifer donates the most useful of gifts; one that literally keeps on giving: livestock. Livestock produces food and material and then reproduces so families can sustain themselves and others, for years to come.
The best thing about donating to Heifer is the "cafeteria" style menu. If you don't have enough money to purchase a single animal, you can put money towards several animals!
Public Radio
Here in DC, you can listen to WAMU or WETA. Both WAMU and WETA are filled with compelling and innovative radio programs.
WETA
WAMU
We all know the reality of the DC real estate market: DC is exempt from this so-called housing "bubble" and the price of home ownership is frankly, astronomical.
Organizations like MANNA help low-income DC families learn about the home buying process and build/renovate homes that come with an affordable price tag. Home ownership is not about stainless steel appliances and granite countertops; it's about investment, roots and quality of life.
There are people who used to live in New Orleans who are still struggling to get their lives back in order. As our lives move on, some New Orlean'ese are faced with daily challenges such as living and eating arrangements, employment, mental and physical health and an overall feeling of questionable stability. Lots of organizations are still taking donations:
Direct Relief International
Red Cross Katrina Fund
Bush/Clinton Katrina Fund
The Idea Village
National Urban League Katrina Fund

2005-12-22T09:29:00.000-05:00

No news about the War, Senate Bills or Rove's involvement with Valerie Plame

Today, it's all about a fun, new product called Zubbles

I must have tuned into NPR after the morning headlines. At first, I was kind of annoyed with this story about colored bubbles; the kind you used to blow at little kiddie birthday parties or if you grew up in my house, the kind your mother would hand-make when you got sick of playing with the homemade playdough (and started to eat it).

A couple minutes into the story, I was suddenly intrigued. The idea man behind Zubbles was so driven to create a colored bubble that he spent thousands of hours (11 years!) and dollars experimenting in order to produce this magical creation. Not mention, he used his own kids as guinea pigs. The photo posted by NPR reminds me of the georgeous Chihuly glass featured in the Bellagio lobby. The bubble is so organic and alive.

If you are looking to be pleasantly surprised by a topic most would find mundane, I encourage you to listen this story.

2005-12-21T16:10:00.000-05:00

random gift ideas for those annoying people who have three of everything

I can't even think of a title for this one, but it's great fun

For the iPodder in your life

Decorative plates can be like the sweet, hidden center in a piece of sinful chocolate

Who says portable wine is for white trash?

DOTTILICIOUS DECALS

2005-12-20T14:39:00.000-05:00

I hear ya, Antigone. I may actually have to consult the following publication for my work:
"Illustrated Anatomy of the Bovine Male and Female Reproductive Tracts" - by K.J. Mullins & R.G. Saacke. Can you believe that shit??

2005-12-20T13:44:00.000-05:00

Office Space Moments

For those of you that are lucky enough to never experience horrible moments where time stands still and the insanity lingers for eternity, I am very, very jealous. I would like to share some of my most recent, horrendous Office Space moments:

I had to produce a technical deliverable, for a web-based SOA project that I am working on, in which the sentence "Bob met Alice and magic happens-they get married. " appears.
My co-worker received an email that stated:
"You owe $2 in the 'ambiguity' bucket just inside of my office. I've bolded the two no no's below."
The sender was serious.
One of the project leaders sported a mullet because he thought it was fashionable.
As "take aways" from a conference, we received a set of legos with the name of our project printed on them.
We volunteered a couple months back with Americorps (a really neat and action/results oriented organization); however, they did make us do team huddles and high-five every hour to promote "togetherness". We also had to do some warm-up exercises that reminded me of the "I must, I must, I must increase my bust" exercises.
I worked in a cube-stall-like space referred to as a POD that I had to share with someone else.
I was micro-managed by three project managers.

2005-12-07T09:27:00.000-05:00

Like all good horror movies...Vitals' posts are baaaack!

There are very well-qualified, solid reasons for our absence. My reason is going to sound quite far-fetched and almost inconceivable, but I pinky-swear that it is the truth. I was recently abducted by Aliens who work for a subsidiary of one the world's largest media companies, Time Warner. Blindfolded, I was placed in a car and driven for what seemed liked days, until we reached our final destination.

The blindfold was removed and I felt displaced and confused. I was surrounded by 6 identical buildings with large glass windows and bridges that connected all of the structures. There were cars everywhere and people with badges swinging from their necks. The only other form of civilization, that was half-way close, was this entity across the street; some sort of food market that covered close to 2 square miles (or, at least appeared to).

Was I in Hell? Where was the red guy with the horns? Hades? Where was the lusty "bad" people and the fire pit?

Unfortunately, I was not in Hell. A somewhat bloated yellow man floated down from one of the bridges and landed in front of me. His head was perfectly round; he didn't even have a neck. A little odd if you ask me. He told me that I was now part of the "family" and these surroundings would be my new home. I tried to poke him, but he shied away. I tried again, and this time, I think he tried to bite me. Feisty little yellow, running man.

Here's hoping that I can escape this world before my sanity deteriorates and I am nothing but a badge-wearing driod!

2005-11-09T17:36:00.000-05:00

Bud + Sissy= True Love, Texas Style

Recently, I splurged on a pair of real-deal cowboy boots. They are medium-brown Justin’s with a lovely blue/brown/gold flame stitch pattern on the sides, a wedged heel, and more sex appeal than Prince circa “Purple Rain.”

I did not know it was possible to feel this way about footwear.

My cowboy boots are so fucking hot I can hardly even stand myself when I wear them. I am deeply smitten. I also find them somewhat attractive, physically. Which is more than I can say for most boys I meet.

Is it possible to have a meaningful relationship with a pair of shoes?

I think it is. Honestly, I love my new cowboy boots. To paraphrase “Annie Hall”: Love is too weak a word for what I feel--I lurve them, I loave them, I luff them. Not in a platonic, “I think they look nice” or “They sure are comfortable” kind of way. I love them passionately. They have many of the qualities I look for in a mate. Really. This is why I have decided to start a passionate love affair with my new cowboy boots. Specifically:

1. They are totally hot, in a ruggedly handsome way
2. They do not take themselves too seriously and they clearly have an appreciation for kitsch, which makes me laugh
3. They do not say they will call, then don’t. They do not call drunk at 2:30 am. This is because they cannot talk (a good thing)
4. When I wear them I can easily pretend that I am Sissy in Urban Cowboy, just waiting for a slow-talking sex machine in tight Wranglers, a snap-front shirt, and a big shiny belt buckle to whisk me off to the Trailer Park of Love.
5. They are very successful and self-actualized in their chosen career, which is: making me look fii-i-i-i-ne.
6. they do not make snarky comments, even when I sort of deserve it
7. They do not take valuable time away from more important night-and-weekend endeavors such as drinking, fingernail maintenance, and cat-appreciation.
8. When I eventually tire of them I can chuck them under the bed and forget they exist, guilt-free.

Nuff said. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to go—you see, these boots were made for walking.

-Viola

2005-11-03T09:44:00.000-05:00

Innocence Lost...

When I was a kid (and in some cases even well into young adulthood) I held some, what turned out to be, fundamentally flawed beliefs. They were all based in reality, but a reality which my 5 or 8 or 16 year old mind never bothered to examine very closely for some shred of plausability. My subconscious decided these were facts, and they became so. Of some I was disabused suddenly, others faded into the truth over time and I am now unable to pinpoint the exact moment when I realized I'd been wrong all those years.

Examples, you ask? In rough chronological order, then, beginning around age 5:

Firefighters must be men. How on earth would women be able to aim their stream of pee with enough accuracy to extinguish a house fire? ( I blame this one on my parents' choice of sex (and general anatomy) education from a very early age. The first book I ever read was "Where did I Come From", and I can assure you, there was not a stork to be seen in this cartoon-illustrated book... How I managed to avoid acknowledging all of those hoses in pictures of firefighters, I'll never know. Let's call it a Freudian omission.)

Age 6-9: All those people on the other side of the world are big fat jerks. They refuse to tell us about all the bad things that are about to happen, even though they must know. After all, they are one whole day ahead of us. If it's November 11th there and November 10th here, they already read November 10th's newspaper. Why can't they just tell us there's gonna be a big earthquake??

Age 8: Chop-A-Pecan is a black woman singer famous in the 80's for popular songs such as "I Feel for You" (... I think I loooove you...). Oh Chop-A... so good.
(If you're still in the dark about this one, say Chop-A-Pecan a few times fast out loud...)

Age 16 (This one persisted perhaps even up until the moment, 2 years ago, when I moved to Washington DC) : The Washington Redskins are the football team representing Washington state and named after a much-loved potato variety. (I'm no football idiot, either - I spent many a Sunday afternoon as a kid eating dog-biscuit shaped cookies and screaming into the TV during games as if I were immersed in the end-zone melee called "The Dog Pound" at Browns Stadium.)

There are so many more... I'll keep you posted.

2005-10-30T16:46:00.000-05:00

New digs, new jobs, new commutes, travels, imports and new hells

Vitals contributors have not been extending their stay at one of the luscious spas in our area (despite popular belief and the incredible desire to be sipping cocktails while enjoying a pedicure, at this very moment). Instead we have been busy purchasing real estate, moving, starting new jobs, hauling ass to the un-desired suburbs, traveling and welcoming international friends.

Once upon-a-time, several writers were able to contribute on a more frequent basis due to the "no big brother" policy with their employers. Unfortunately, times have changed and these writers not only find that their internet usage is logged, but they haul about 50 miles round trip just to be online (well, to work too, but that is really a minor detail, at present). Before these glamorous new jobs attracted them, commutes were a breeze and all internet surfing, with the exception of porn, was totally acceptable. I know, I know, what is a work day without a little porn?

Well, I have recently encountered people at my newest employment gig who actually get paid to surf for porn. I swear this to be true. And when I met the guy that headed the group, it became even more apparent that this group actually enjoyed their job. So, just remember, when someone asks you the trite question of "So, what do you do?"; there is always the snarky, but could be true response of "I get paid to surf for porn". Don't' go into how your surfing is for the good of the kiddies on the 'net, this would definitely ruin the moment.

So happy that I drive 30 miles one way to interface with these lovely people.

2005-10-26T11:42:00.000-04:00

My father is 7th grade teacher, and has - like every middle school teacher - a slew of good stories from those braces-wearing, loud-talkin, and dare I say TRIANGLE HAIRED kiddos. Recently, he's asked his class come up with a "Question of the Day" - just anything they're curious about. He posts the best questions on the board, and they all discuss. Here are a few good ones...

1. Can you cry underwater?
2. Why don't sheep shrink when it rains?
3. Can vegetarians eat animal crackers?
4. What do you do when you see an endangered animal eating an endangered plant?

2005-10-06T15:30:00.000-04:00

China doesn't Chew - an interesting factoid

Chewing Gum puts Wrigley at #65 on the Forbes 400 Richest Americans list. Even more interesting is the following statistic from Mr. Wrigley's Forbes' bio:

China's per capita gum consumption is just 10 sticks a year. In the U.S., the per capita gum consumption is 160 sticks per year. I believe Wrigley is trying to expand into the Chinese market. Isn't bad enough that today's Chinese youth are dealing with obesity due to Kentucky Fried Chicken, McDonald's and Burger King franchises - now, we make must the people of China want to up their gum consumption.

Does this mean that Americans have a higher propensity for oral fixation?

FYI - Wrigley, the U.S.' largest gum producer, sells 16 types of gum in 67 flavors.
He's also recently divorced - just in case there is a woman who would like to be the Glamour Girl of Gum...

2005-10-06T12:32:00.000-04:00

Career Decisions - As Dolly once sang,

"Workin' 9 to 5...What a way to make a livin'"

I've been in Washington for about eight years and I have been with my current employer for two years and six months. This is the longest stretch of time that I have been with the same company, in my entire post-college career. Once again, I am feeling a little restless and I am seeking a new challenge. My employment has been pretty steady in the software/consulting sector; however, I am thinking about leaving the software industry and trying something completely new. I have thought about all kinds of careers, from farming (seriously, there are ways to be a profitable farmer/grower) to becoming a high-school art teacher.

I just don't think I can spend my days behind a computer for much longer. I'm craving that "get your hands" dirty job that comes with plenty of challenges and many rewards.

According to a Sept. 26-28th Gallup Survey, now is not the best time to be seeking my dream job:

38% of Americans say now is a good time to find a quality job
The majority of Americans (56%) say it is a bad time

Even more interesting, responses are colored by one's politics:

6 in 10 Republicans (60%) say it is a good time to find a quality job
33% of independents say it is a good time to find a quality job
22% of Democrats share this point of view

Job satisfactionn is also an interesting topic. For those of us who do not have steady access to money, we must work in order to earn, save, provide and hopefully, invest. I also believe that the desire to work is not just based on earning potential, but it is a product of our environment. I hear the sarcastic saying about DC-ers or East Coasters all the time - chatting with someone on the East Coast (especially DC and NYC) is all about who you work for, what you do, etc. I have found myself (reluctantly) locked into one of these conversations, but I've also been able to sway the conversation to other, more interesting topics. I do have to admit - I know I spend 40 hours a week at my job, as do most of my peers; at some point, the topic of work is going to surface. I am constantly challenging myself to make sure it is not a topic that one spends more than a little while addressing.

Gallup's annual Work and Education Poll, updated Aug. 8-11, finds:

About three in five employed adults in the United States like their jobs
A fortunate one-third of workers love their occupations
Only 9% of working adults dislike or hate their jobs

No more financial worries! Apparently, we Americans still want to work (how honest were these people!?) - 60% wouldremainn employed in some capacity.

Gallup asked workers what they would do if the lottery presented them with $10 million in instant wealth.

Overall, 36% of workers say they would continue to work in their current jobs
24% would continue to work but find a different job
39% would stop working

2005-10-05T14:50:00.000-04:00

It's The Little Things...

It's pretty much a miracle that my diet of Kosher Salt, Spray Butter and all things Soy has not caused me an untimely death. I also have a new found soft-spot for imitation crab and lobster meat. If you're thinking that I've developed a crush on canned meat, please navigate away from this site. I've been known to salt my bread and even chocolate ice-cream, but I will never eat canned meat. It's the pre-packaged and air-tight imitation seafood that I have grown fond of enjoying at really, any time of the day.

I would also like to share a recent affinity for Brussel sprouts, squash and red onions. Yes, I guess I like foods filled with fiber. While the rest of the world is taking an afternoon siesta or Starbucks Coffee break, I am strolling the industrial streets of Ballston in search of my afternoon Soy Crisp snack. So many flavors of Soy to savor.

If you have never had the pleasure of attending a day long client meeting with me, then you've never witnessed my "straight from the package" oatmeal eating routine. It's quite simple. Take a paper oatmeal packet, open, stick in spoon, insert dry oatmeal into mouth. Honestly, it's not as gross as one would think. I guess the camper in me comes out in these situations. Having low blood sugar and constantly needing to eat is a total curse. I carry Saltines around in my car. No, I am not pregnant.

If you consider yourself an adventurous foodie, don't discount yummy combinations like:

chocolate pudding and puffed wheat
salad, imitation lobster, soy crisps and raisins
cold tofo and soy sauce (nice and salty!)
dry oatmeal and Splenda

2005-10-04T13:08:00.000-04:00

This is a picture of me at my new job! (OK, I am lying. But who would want to see a picture of me sitting at my desk, trying to act like I'm doing important research instead of shopping on-line?)
--Viola

2005-10-04T12:38:00.000-04:00

Dear Iraqi Pen Pal,

OK, this little sentiment is courtesy of my (very funny) friend Caitlin. But seriously, it is a handy little phrase to invoke when you are feeling particularly whiny and sorry for yourself, for no real reason other than the overwhelming anguish of dealing with the banality of typical city life in 2005. Like I am right now. Twaah-twah-twaaaaaah.

I really feel like winding up into a long, whiney, ear-splitting snivel-fit right now. Really, I do. Here is why:

1. I have accepted a new job, which I am scared about. I am very conformable with my current position, and by comfortable I mean: "filled with abject boredom and ennui." So I was offered the new gig, and it will mean more work, more time in the effing car commuting to work, and (the kicker) more money. So I have sold my soul to the corporate overlords and am feeling apprehensive about the decision. What if I hate it? What if I somehow get sucked into working in the Virginia suburbs and eventually just give up on the commute, trade in my cute clothes and sexy heels for dowdy school-marmish suits and running shoes, and renounce the whole living-in-the city thing? (shudder)

2. I have to move. Again. Granted, it is into a much bigger, more spacious home with a freakin YARD, where (one day, when I am feeling saucy) I can plant actual living things and lounge in the sun swatting mosquitos. But still--moving SUCKS, people. And I should know. I moved last fall. And the year before that, too. And before that...well, you get the idea. The point is: I am sick to death of putting all my shit in boxes, hauling these boxes around town like some sort of freaking Sherpa, only to take all my shit OUT of boxes on the other end and have to decide the proper place (again) for all that SHIT. Damn it!!! Not to mention having to endure the tail-lashing fury and destructive mood swings of a pissed-off black cat who is incensed by the prospect of having to deposit her scent all over a NEW house. And who can blame her? She had only just finished rubbing up on everything in the OLD house, for fuck's sake. All that work, just lost.

3. (and this is the whiniest bit of all) I am sick to death of dealing with, thinking about, and hyper-analyzing the actions of basically every single male I meet. I am bored senseless by things that start out fun and then turn into what can only be described as "not fun," due to the fact that I am compelled to play my part in some sort of ritualized dance where no one really knows the steps, but they go something like: "If you show that you like me, I will immediately feel for you only scorn and derision, but if you treat me with disdain I will immediately be compelled by the need to make an ass of myself in a desperate effort to win your affections." It is mind-boggling. The thing is, I am a reasonable person. Really! I recognize the idiocy and futility of this scenario. Yet I play into it repeatedly, seemingly without control over my thoughts and actions. Argh!

But you, my dear Iraqi Pen Pal, probably do not find any of these complaints worth the time it took to commit them to cyberspace. You are probably thinking: "My American Pen Pal is truly the most self-involved, egocentric, and tedious human being to ever suck up more than their fair share of natural resources." You are probably right. I suck.

And to top it all off, I just broke a fucking nail.

Snivelingly,
Viola

2005-09-27T13:50:00.000-04:00

Moons of the Morbidly Obese:

For many years, I have been an on-again-off-again insomniac. I can go for weeks relishing the kind of sleep of which cows are envious. (Cows, as you may know, can sleep standing up and not be disturbed even by crapulent teenage cow-tippers). I wake up after 7 or 8, or occasionally even 9 hours of such profound and imperturbable sleep that I am frozen in the same spine-cracking position in which I first drifted off to meet the Sandman.

There are, however, many times when such sleep, or really any sleep, eludes me for days or weeks or months on end. I have recently re-entered one of these Dr. Jekyl-esque, somnus-absent periods. A central theme of this affliction is my inability to adequately deal with this frustrating occurence.

The night before last, I employed my usual strategy of leaving the television on at high volume, while ignoring all instincts pointing to more constructive, and perhaps sleep-conducive, activities. Although there was no clear program choice, I figured the only way to justify what promised to be a night of mind-numbing television claptrap, would be to watch something "educational"... So, as my thinly-stretched and sleep-deprived conscience dictated, I settled on a one hour documentary on TLC called "The 627 Pound Woman" (a creative title if ever there was one, given that the show was, quite to my un-surprise, about the struggle of a 627-lb woman to get her weight under control).

This woman's shocking appearance, including a roughly 60lb paniculus (a large sagging pouch of poorly-distributed excess body fat), sagging weightily towards the ground from the left side of her lower torso, made it impossible for me to avert my eyes. I even forgoed channel flipping during commercial breaks for fear that I would miss anything(I would normally, at the very least, check on MTV to see if that god-awful Laguna Beach was over yet).

I became even more tightly riveted to the "boob-tube" (a term my father has employed with aplomb for as long as I can remember, and which, in my old age, I agree is rather apt, especially considering the outcome of this particular sleepless night) during the 1am-2am TLC time slot.
As if to ratchet up the tension perceptably for all of us pathetic nail-biting insomniacs glued to the TV at 1am on a Tuesday, a program called "The One-Ton Man" was broadcast, much to my sick delight. This time, not only did I not channel flip during commercials (screw you, Talin, and your band of spoiled Cali cronies!), but I was compelled to save up all of my furious, eyeball-refreshing blinking for these pauses. Simply put, the one ton man, Patrick something-er-other, was and is indescribable. Does anyone remember the girl in Willy Wonka that turned into a blueberry after eating some 3-course meal bubble gum which had not yet reached the end of the "development pipeline"? Take away the blue, flatten her out a bit, multiply to an adult man and that was poor Patrick, no exaggeration, here.

When I finally did crawl into bed and fall asleep (my best estimate is around 3:30am), it was inevitable that I should have dreams focusing on obesity: the strange thing, however, is the form in which these dreams presented themselves. It was as if I were my own little planet, and I was being orbitted by several moons. Each moon was a super-morbidly obese person like Patrick (alhtough in this case, he was smiling and no longer covered by huge festering welts) and the 627-lb woman (minus paniculus). The irony here is that I awoke with the distinct impression of being too damn fat for my own good - we're talking giggly, chunky fat that would keep me from being able to roll over in bed of my own volition and under my own steam. This feeling plagued me for a good part of that day, which is when it finally hit me what my father has meant all these years... that tube turned me into a boob.

2005-09-27T12:53:00.000-04:00

Account Breach - leaves you more vulnerable then airing dirty
laundry to your current special friend

When it comes to storing financial information online, never doubt your gut feeling if you start to sense that something is not right. Yesterday, I received an email from Verizon Wireless informing me that my account that had been configured for recurring payments, was no longer active. The message certainly surprised me, especially because this account had been set up over a year ago and the payments were made like clockwork. I started to think with my work instinct rather than listen to my common sense instincts. At work, we had been putting rules in place so that users of a specific software application were notified, after a certain point in time, and encouraged to change profile information (user name, password, etc.). I started to think that the email I received was a pre-set notification and I had missed the fine print when I signed up for the service.

Later in the evening, I received the real kick-in-the-stomach when I checked my text messages to find that my PIN, for the Verizon Wireless site, had been changed. I knew for a fact that a PIN could only be changed when someone logged into an account and manually triggered the account change. Panic started to set in. I couldn't remember if Verizon masked my financial account information. Further, yesterday would have been the worst possible day for a breach to my checking account. The check I submitted with my house contract was about to be deposited and if the funds had magically disappeared, well, let's just say that my usual cure for all things stressful, scotch on the rocks, was only going to the beginning of a very long night.

I suddenly found myself under the influence of Woodward and Bernstein's passion, so eloquently played out by Robert Redford and Dustin Hoffman in All The President's Men while speaking with a Verizon account representative. I was going to expose this unacceptable account breach and save thousands of innocent other identify theft victims, which, are certainly out there, waiting for better online account management security. According to a telephone poll conducted Aug. 15-21, 2005 by Gallup:

one in six Americans say they have had financial information, such as their bank or credit card numbers, stolen.*
Six in 10 (62%) of those who had their information stolen say someone charged purchases against a credit card they already had. Fifty-four percent said someone charged purchases or withdrew money from their bank account.*

As far as I know, the most visible law governing account breach protocol is California Civil Code Section 1798.82. (Please note, this is a PDF file). We need a national law that addresses identity theft outside the state of California. There are companies that incur the expense and take it upon themselves to inform consumers when identity theft occurs, even if the consumer resides outside the state of California. These companies are setting the standard high, for business to customer communication. What we need now is a higher, more secure standard of protection.

I used to think that people who didn't engage in online commerce were crazy not to trust the security protocols. I can know walk in their shoes and relate to their founded trepidation. I will continue to pay bills and make purchases online, but I will be cautious, spend time with the fine print and monitor my accounts more closely.

*Results for the survey are based on telephone interviews with 1,011 adults, aged 18 and older, conducted Aug. 15-21, 2005. For results based on this sample, one can say with 95% confidence that the margin of sampling error is ±3 percentage points.

2005-09-21T12:00:00.000-04:00

Wireless internet, ingenuity, sex appeal and a partner in crime = solution to any problem!

There was a brief moment a couple of Sundays ago when Viola and I were paralyzed due to a misplaced cell phone. Frozen on the corner of 18th and Florida, debating if we should hop a cab, run back home, or search for our friend in the masses convening to celebrate Adams Morgan day, we silently racked our brains. We needed to reach Triangle, but Viola's cell phone was the sole place where Triangle's number was stored. Unfortunately, no major telecommunications company has figured out or approached regulators for permission to create a 411 directory for cell phone owners.

It was an absolutely beautiful day and we weren't going to let this small set-back keep us from finding Triangle. A plan began to form, but we needed some supplies: an internet connection and computer or some type of web-surfing device. As much as we would probably volunteer to be human wireless access points, it was something we could not deal with at the moment.

18th street certainly has bars, but it's also home to three coffee shops - all offering wireless internet access. Stellar. One component down. Now, we needed to find a computer. This also meant we needed to convince the computer's operator that our cause was just and we would only need five teeny minutes of someone's time.

Follow these simple directions and if you ever need something that is only accessible via email, but you find that you have no computer, no internet access, no hope - DO NOT FEEL DESPAIR - TAKE ACTION!!!
*Note: apply lip gloss before approaching victim
**Note: females - only approach males

Destination: Caribou Coffee Victim: Slightly overweight white male, approximate age: 27-32

Execution Line: "We are so sorry to disturb you, but we have run into a slight snafu involving a mis-placed cell phone. Could we use your computer for five minutes to access our friend's cell number?"

If Victim hesitates, offer to purchase the Victim a luring treat (coffee drink, danish, whatever floats victim's boat)

I wish I could say our operation only took five minutes, but it was realistically more like 15 minutes. We selected a more "savvy" surfer (just our luck) that prevented a timely and smooth fact finding mission. However, once we finally accessed the key information, we were on our way to contacting Triangle and making a sticky situation a successful adventure.

Mission Accomplished with only the following loss: $5 towards fatty's latte for computer use

2005-09-14T15:26:00.000-04:00

Stay Golden: The New Rule to Live By

Today is a very special day. It is the anniversary of the premier of the Golden Girls sitcom, 20 whole years ago. Can you believe it? Twenty! This makes me feel as old as Dorothy, Blanche, Rose and Sophia. I mean, OLD old.

What’s that, you say? You could not care less about the Golden Girls? You think they SUCK? Well, I offer this—you just have not thought the situation through all the way. I mean, check this: GG was the first TV show that was all about single girlfriends, doing their thing, sans males—a geriatric Sex and the City, really. Come on, are you telling me senior-but-sexy southern belle Blanche ISN’T Samantha? Sweet, dopey, idealistic Rose isn’t the spittin’ image of Charlotte? And smart, sarcastic (and manly) Dorothy—well, I dunno—maybe Mister Big??

Allow me to serenade you with the rockin theme song. You may sing along if you like:

Thank you for bein’ a friend
Travel down the road and back again
You heart is true; you’re a pal and a confidante.
[BUM, bum, bum]
And if you threw a party, i-i-i-invited everyone you knew,
You would see the biggest gift would be from me
And the card attached would say:
Thank you for bein’ a fri-e-e-e-nd!

Rousing wasn’t it? My college roommate used to deploy this song for strategic public humiliation purposes. She would wait until I was shit-housed—preferably in a large public venue—and then sweet-talk me into singing it. I always obliged. I do a damn fine rendition of it when blind drunk. Or at least it sounds damn fine to me.

But all public disgrace aside, my only REAL worry is that there is a piece of gray matter in my head exclusively devoted to retaining for all eternity the Golden Girls theme song lyrics--which I can summon to mind even in the utmost state of inebriation. YET I woke up Sunday morning having totally forgotten at least one fairly significant bit of information.

The following is my chain of thoughts, in real time: “Urpfh! Wha? Whozzis? Whas’ this strange blue blanket-y thing, and why is it so freaking bright in this room? Have I been transported to the face of the sun? FUCK! What is the FIRST NAME of this dude next to me? Oh god, think, think! Perhaps he has some decorative item which has his name on it!? Wait--what if he DOES have a decorative item with his name on it? That would be so weird! Maybe I can get into his wallet without him noticing and check his license? Oh. Shit. I am an asshole. I give up. I will think on this more after I get a Diet Coke the size of my head.”

But, I digress. To summarize my (albeit scattered) thoughts on the Golden Girls: It occurred to me today that the show is a good metaphor for my life. Seriously!

Take one group of saucy single gals-in-the-city, add some madcap hijinks, some random guys that drift in and out on a show-by-show basis, substitute late-night boozing for late-night cheesecake, and IT. IS. TOTALLY. FUCKING. US!!

And, by god, it ain't all that bad. So, the New, Improved Golden Rule: Cherish your gal-pals. They will hold your hair while you puke and judge not your slut-tastic escapades. And if you are reading this, thank you for bein’ a friend.

Viola

2005-09-12T11:23:00.000-04:00

The dreaded "How was your weekend? What did you do?" questions -
how to respond without horrifying your coworkers.

On the other hand, don't underestimate the full-on "jaw drop" response...torturing fellow co-workers can be a great way to start a Monday.

One day, I will have the following chipper response (note: must start consuming coffee or some form of caffeine before arriving at the office; if you have the "don't talk to her before her first cup" reputation, I highly recommend the pre-work caffeine routine):

The weekend was really nice! I met up with friends on Friday night and on Saturday, I spent the morning volunteering. I helped out a friend on Saturday afternoon by watching her son, so she could attend an art class. Saturday night was again spent with a different group of friends; we ordered pizza and enjoyed the humidity-free evening. On Sunday, I had my weekly check-in calls with my Mother and Grandmother, then I accomplished my errands to get myself ready for the week.

Please don't gag violently at this point; under-the-breath cursing might be more appropriate. Yes, the response is a little "Stepford"-ish. They have pegged you as the "wild and crazy" one - I mean, you are the only one without a spouse and one of the few without children. And, because you have been truthful in the past, they secretly wonder about your alcohol consumption and how many "sleep-overs" are, um, planned before they actually occur. Now, you are simply charming and reformed - those wild "girls gone wild days" are so totally over and done with!

Like Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, the weekend response must change and morph for the inquiring audience. Simply remove the "work filter" from the above response and you will have the following adventuresome quip:

I think I might still be drunk. I can't remember what I did on Friday night. Saturday night, now that I remember! I decided that bartenders at posh bars shouldn't be the only ones preparing inviting and experimental cocktails; I was going to get my hands dirty in that field too. My drink of choice was Rum, Rum, Rum, cranberry juice and Rum. Oh - and ice. Lot's of ice. While enjoying the spectacular view from my friend's roof deck, I downed this new drink while touting the fabulous antioxidant-type properties that are found in cranberries. Every one knows I'm a health freak, not an alcoholic. Later that night I puked up the entire content of Saturday, including julienne carrots from my Cosi salad, on the front porch of my condo building. Oh! I cleaned it up though so no one else would have to deal with it, look at it or come knocking on my door to blame it on me. I'm such a good resident - I woke up at 7:30 to clean it up!

Truly angelic - sometimes you can see a halo above my head.

2005-09-09T09:43:00.000-04:00

Weekly Vitals. Pick your flavor: New Orleans, Big Easy or Katrina

I never liked descriptive adjectives such as "good", "cool" and "best"; these words are more conditional than matter-of-fact. The word "good" to you means something entirely different than my interpretation of "good". Of course, circumstance plays into the definition of "good" or any other word such as "great", "poor", "fair" etc. This is one of the reasons I dislike the following Gallup poll. I would be more interested in the raw decriptors people would choose on their own, when decribing their feelings about Katrina.

Bush's response to Katrina:

Despite widespread criticism of the response by Bush and, separately, the federal government, to the problems caused by the hurricane, the public seems on balance only mildly critical.

* Forty-two percent say Bush did a "bad" (18%) or "terrible" (24%) job
* 35% rate his response as either "great" (10%) or "good" (25%)

Source: Gallup
Poll performed on .09.05.05 & 09.06.05

Federal Agencies' response to Katrina:

Federal agencies received a similar rating:

* 42% of Americans giving a low rating and 35% a high one
* The public was about evenly divided on state and local officials in Louisiana -- 37% giving a high rating and 35% a low one.

Source: Gallup
Poll performed on .09.05.05 & 09.06.05

Who is most responsible for the problems in New Orleans in Katrina's aftermath?

When asked to identify who was most responsible for the problems in New Orleans after the hurricane:

* 38% of Americans said no one was really to blame
* 13% cited Bush
* 18% cited the federal agencies
* 25% cited state and local officials.

Source: Gallup
Poll performed on .09.05.05 & 09.06.05

The poll, conducted Sept. 5-6, finds almost all Americans, 93%, agreeing that Hurricane Katrina is the worst natural disaster in their lifetimes.

2005-09-06T15:09:00.000-04:00

Good Hair + Good Deeds = Happy Vitals Girl

On Sunday, Sept. 18 from 9 a.m.-9 p.m at Urban Style Lab, a WHITE HOT new salon near the Dupont metro (yeah, this is where Viola gets her hair cut, people), 75% of the haircut price will go to the American Red Cross for hurricane relief efforts.

Appointments are not necessary (but might be a good idea). Stylists will work on a first-come, first-served basis. Ask for Kelly if you can--in addition to cutting a mean head, he's serious eye candy, ladies. MeeYOW!

Cuts are $75 women, $45 men

Urban Style Lab
1341 Connecticut Ave NW Washington, DC
202-223-2066

2005-09-01T14:18:00.000-04:00

This Just In: Area Restaurants to Hold Katrina Benefits

Information posted on DonRockwell.com, a DC-area food and dining blog, indicates that over the next several weeks, the Neighborhood Restaurant Group (consisting of Vermilion, Tallula & Evening Star Cafe) will be holding a number of fundraising events to aid in relief efforts for victims of Hurricane Katrina in Mississippi, Alabama, and Louisiana.

The group is planning a number of different opportunities for patrons and employees to contribute to the overall donation to the American Red Cross.

Fundraising events planned include:

Total Sales Donation Night - September 7
A percentage of total sales from Tallula, Vermilion & Evening Star Cafe will be donated to the cause.

Sweet Tribute - September 5-11
50% of sales from all desserts sold during the week will be donated

Taste of the French Quarter--Dates TBA
Tallula and Evening Star Cafe will bring a taste of the French Quarter to Virginia with a tribute to the famous Cafe Du Monde. Beignets and hot coffee will be served with 100% of proceeds going to the fund.

Check Donations - Month of September
Guests will be given the opportunity to contribute to the American Red Cross on top of their check. Those who wish to contribute to the fund can indicate a desired donation amount on a card enclosed with the bill. That amount will then be added to their bill.

Donations will also be collected during the live music performances throughout September at Vermilion and the Evening Star Cafe. Visit the website for Vermilion and Evening Star for live music schedules.

Planet Wine will also be collecting donations at both shops.

**Also, the employees working the lunch and dinner shifts at Vermilion on Labor Day have pledged to donate at least 50% of their tips from the day to the American Red Cross. So plan to celebrate Labor Day at Vermilion and tip BIG to help out your fellow man (PS--the food is damn tasty too!)

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Brickskeller and RFD
For the entire month of September, 5% of all draught beer sales at both the Brickskeller and RFD Washington will be donated to the Red Cross to help those affected by Katrina. The Brickskeller and RFD Washington will match those totals collected from draught beer sales and double the contribution.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Acadiana Po-Boy Benefit
Area blogs have reported that Acadiana, the new Cajun/Creole themed dining destination (I'm excited about this one!!) from Executive Chef Jeff Tunks and the team that brought DC Ten Penh, Ceiba, and DC Coast has a benefit in the works.

On the opening day of Acadiana, September 12, Tunks and other area chefs including Robert Wiedmaier, Michel Richard, Roberto Donna, and Cesare Lanfranconi, to name a few, will make brown bag carry-out po'boys (meat or seafood) all day, for a donation of $25 each.

Acadiana
901 New York Avenue, N.W.
Washington, DC 20001

For more information:
Simone Rathlé - Headquarters for PoBoy Power
(800) 496-1733/(703) 534-8100/(703) 534-8102
simonepr@aol.com / simoneink@aol.com

2005-08-30T12:21:00.000-04:00

What has happened down here, is the winds have changed
Clouds roll in from the north and it started to rain
It rained real hard, and it rained for a real long time
Six feet of water in the streets of Evangeline
The river rose all day, the river rose all night
Some people got lost in the flood, some people got away alright
The river had busted through clear down to Plackermine
Six feet of water in the streets of Evangeline
Louisiana, Louisiana
They're trying to wash us away, they're trying to wash us away

-“Louisiana, 1927,” lyrics by Randy Newman

Well, I have to tell you, my lil heart is just breaking wide open for the people affected by Katrina. My main thought yesterday was “whew, looks like it’s not going to be a bad as we thought” but the more I look online today (which I can’t seem to stop obsessively doing) the worse it seems to be.

Shit! What a terrible thing to happen to any people, anywhere, but—I’ll admit it—I get this weird lump in my throat when I think of this kind of devastation happening in New Orleans and southeast Louisiana.

For those of you who don’t know, these places—Louisiana, the Gulf Coast—hold a special place in my heart. My paternal relatives hail from Alabama, and as a child I would spend the summer fishing, playing endless games of Casino, sweating, and getting stung by jellyfish on the "air-conditioned" white sand of Gulf Shores, Alabama, at a little cottage built by my great granddad. And then (after cottage upkeep became too dear) at our condo in Perdido Key, Fla. The condo—and the Flora-Bama, a much beloved landmark bar/roadhouse a half mile from it—was trashed last year by Hurricane Ivan, and renovations are still ongoing.

Later in life—after I had gone off to college in the south—I became very close with several Louisianans, from various parts of the state. My first trip to New Orleans was at 18, for Mardi Gras. We heeded the black-magic siren call of the Crescent City as millions before us had, and trekked 12 hours from Charleston, SC to New Orleans in the open back of a pick-up truck, such was the sheer force of our desire to drink (and vomit) on Bourbon Street.

New Orleans.
What can I say?
It was love at first sight (and smell)

In the years since, not a year has passed that I have failed to visit Louisiana. I’ve been to New Orleans, to Shreveport, to Baton Rouge, to St. Francisville, Natchitoches, Houma, Cut Off, Grand Isle, Cocodrie, Lockport, and a hundred small places in between. There wasn’t one place I didn’t love.

We stopped at a no-name, bullet-proof po-boy shack in NO’s Faubourg Marigny and bought a roast beef po-boy that still counts as one of the best meals I’ve ever eaten, marked in my memory by gravy running down my forearms. I could hardly finish it, but snuck into the fridge to nibble at the remnants until all that was left was a greasy paper bag. I still salivate at the thought.

In Shreveport, we drove over the tacky shiny gold neon bridge, grazed on Natchitoches meat pies at the Red River Revel, and swigged a potent “Coon-Ass Curse” daiquiri from one of the ubiquitous drive-thru Daquiri Huts on our way down to Mardi Gras.

I fished for speckled trout in the early morning haze as fog lifted off the swamp in Grand Isle, and watched flocks of brown pelicans swoop in against a pink sunset to the small island they call home.

I ate tomato-y Cubiyon stew, and fat pink gulf shrimp, heads still on, boiled in spices that scorch your tongue. Sipped thin savory gumbo, and carved pieces off a loin of lightly smoked whitetail back strap, all produced by Cajuns, for Cajuns, and (thankfully) for me as well.

Near Houma, we laughed right out loud at the sign for the “Ruby Slippers” trailer park—wondering why in the world any reasonable trailer park proprietor would wish to conjure images of tornados, flying houses, and people (ok, witches) squished to death by debris.

In Point Clear I sat in a worn rocking chair on a wide front porch eating homemade pralines and inhaling the soft scent of a nearby sweet olive tree.

Years ago, my gentlemanly deep-voiced grandfather tried to sweet-talk the bouncers at the (in)famous Flora Bama into letting me in to “check the place out.” Once inside, my gentile and VERY proper grandmother threatening to contribute her brassier to the collection of undergarments hanging from the ceiling. I was all for it—at the Flora Bama, it just seemed like the right thing to do. (she didn’t, for the record)

So much of this country is interchangeable these days, and so many places are homogenized, but New Orleans, Acadiana, the Gulf Coast’s “Redneck Riviera”---are places that are so unique to this country. Places that have a character unlike anywhere else I can think of. I wish they had been spared this trial. My thoughts and prayers are with those affected by Katrina.

Sadly,
Viola

2005-08-27T20:28:00.000-04:00

A group of six of us ladies went to Galileo for dinner last Tuesday. Having heard not-so-many nice things about the service at Roberto Donna's long-standing Mecca for regional Italian, I had never worked up the nerve to blow more than $100 per person on a meal there. So when the restaurant offered a very tempting offer through its web site (half off all food and wine sun-tues evenings in August) I jumped at the chance. Now or never, right?

The verdict?

While I'm glad I went and had the experience, I am VERY glad I did not pay full freight for what was a fairly mediocre meal with annoying service. As for the food, it was all reasonably fresh and well executed--an appetizer of bacon-wrapped scallops, while not terribly original, was meaty, seared crusty on the outside, and darn tasty. The tuna carpaccio was fresh-tasting, but it lacked spunk—just limp slices of tuna on some sort of innocuous vegetable purée.

As for main courses, the server recommended the bronzino, which turned out to be a nice filet of meaty fish which was unfortunately overwhelmed by an aggressive orangey glazing and a tasteless “pea sauce.” A veal chop was, again, well-executed and nicely cut, but just ho-hum, though its accompanying morel sauce was pleasingly heavy on the fungi. The veggie-friendly asparagus and mascarpone agnolotti (similar to ravioli) with parmesan cheese and basil olive oil, while stunningly rich, was generally agreed to be among the very best dishes, even by the table's dedicated carnivores. For the finale, the trio of gelatos—pistachio, mascarpone, and banana—were lovely and served as a refreshing jolt to our somewhat underwhlemed palates.

The service was, frankly, a bit strange. The bartender was a phantom—he kept disappearing and often seemed to be doing so to go flirt with the hostess. When we finally caught his eye we had waited at the bar an extra 5 or 10 minutes after our table was ready. I would have chalked it up to an accident, but he pulled the same disappearing act after we returned to the bar for a post-meal capucchino. Our waiter was prompt, but a bit pushy—when we tried to order two of a particular appetizer, he said, “No. You will order two [of another appetizer].” Though he clearly deemed one item to be better than the other, his vaguely hostile manner was off-putting. In another pushy move, when I reached to pour my own wine (I did not see him standing behind me), he ran over and scolded me, actually shaking his finger and saying “No, no!!” Um, hello? How about, “may I do that for you ma’am?”

All in all, it WAS worth the money—at half price, that is.

2005-08-26T15:00:00.000-04:00

Who wants to be the Columbian Cartel when you can be the Kitty Cartel? Purrrr....

Prescription Drugs. We all have several bright, orange plastic bottles shoved in our medicine cabinets, purses, work desks or cars. Some of our bathrooms are even transformed into mini pharmacies depending on the number of bottles hidden away. We do plan to chuck these plastic vials during the chore we all know and love as the bathroom purge (don't forget the toilet bowl cleaning!).

Ever so nonchalantly, we ask our friends for an Asprin™ here or a Midol™ there; do you have any Ibuprofen™, Tums™, Tylenol™, Valium™, Penicillin™ - oh wait, some of these sugar dadies weren't originally intended for other's consumption. We can't turn down a friend in need, right?

Recently, I was the friend in need; however, as much as I wanted a Valium, I opted for something a little "softer" and as much as I like to say "it's for a friend..." and really mean yours truly, the trite saying rang true. I was asking on a behalf of a friend. A friend who walks on all fours and is sometimes referred to as "Fat Fred".

My coworker dished out her furry companion's (Mr. Buggles) prescription without hesitation. The next thing I knew, I was dishing out teeny, tiny pink pills to my loveable lap cat, Winifred. You might scoff and think incredibly illegal thoughts about this transaction, but, man, Winifred needed these pills, badly. Winifred has a little condition that I like to call territorial urination. It's not so much a problem for her as it is for the rest of my household: my roomate, her cat and our furniture. These magic beans are supposed to put the kibosh on that behavior.

Yummy, magic beans!

2005-08-24T11:18:00.000-04:00

Men will not understand what it means. Hell, women don't understand why we do it.

I refer to the all too frequent (and bewildering) "Crotch Glance". It plays out the same way, millions of times, every single day, much like this example which I perpetrated, involuntarily I submit, yesterday:

THE PLAYERS
Me: 20-something, not unattractive woman walking down the sidewalk to the bank, happy to be outside on a nice day. Not a care in the world...

Him: 35-40 year old man walking down the sidewalk towards me, casually, but not too slowly: khaki pants, blue Oxford shirt tucked neatly into the aforementioned trousers (loafers, I'm sure), a few protruding chest hairs from the tie-less unbuttoned collar (but thankfully, no gold chain in sight).

THE SCENARIO
I look up at his face for a moment, as we pass on the sidewalk, out of pure human curiosity. Nothing abnormal here. We pretend we didn't just look each other in the eye or take a quick head-to-toe visual tour... and then... my eyes, as if compelled by some perverse and powerful force, are riveted for an instant to his crotch. The moment I realize that a voodoo spell has caused me to "crotch glance" a man who A: I do not find in the slightest bit attractive B: is wearing loose-fitting khaki pants which will clearly reveal no useful information C: like a plumed bird acourtin' has obviously displayed his "manly" chest hair in an attempt to lure unwitting crotch glancers, I do the only thing my few remaining functioning synapses will allow me to do... I look back up at his face. Oh for God's sake: He has caught me crotch glancing and is now fervently asking himself what it all means. "Did I pass?" "What does she think?" "She wants to bang me, doesn't she?" I can see the wheels turning in his head.

My Scottish blood seizes the moment to make an appearance in my face. (Amazing how quickly those chemical signals move, isn't it? Unfortunate they cannot be employed on keeping my eyes on the damn sidewalk instead.) I walk away pondering the how and why of this crotch-glancing.

Here are some theories:

1. I have frequently had the experience of telling myself so intensely not to do something, that I either come close to doing it, or succumb altogether. Example: Look at that dead mouse under the fridge. Don't touch the dead mouse under the fridge. (more firmly now): Don't touch the dead mouse under the fridge. DON'T touch it! Aw geez don't DO IT... fuck. You just HAD to touch the dead mouse, didn't you??

2. Maybe, deeply rooted somewhere in the nether-reaches of my brain, I have acknowledged that during a head-on encounter (ie, no chance for a glimpse of the fanny region) with the opposite sex, once checking out the face, there's nothing good left to look at except perhaps by stealing a little looksie at the crotch. If this is the case, it is very deeply rooted.

My conclusion is that there is no good solution to this mortifying occurence. My advice to men is not to read much into it, neither negative NOR positive. My advice to me is to concentrate on not concentrating. Otherwise, I will continue to touch the dead mouse under the fridge and glance at the crotches of unsuspecting passersby.

2005-08-19T13:18:00.000-04:00

“I'm sorry (Brad/Jude/Jake), I can't go out with you. It's my poker night!"

Sad but True: I’ve been just dying to say that. Yes, I'm the very last person in the world to jump on the Poker Bandwagon, but here I am, all set to take the world of high-stakes Texas Hold 'Em by storm with my mad poker skillz (note: when someone spells skills with a "z," it is usually a dead giveaway that said person has none)

Anyway, I’m pretty darn excited about Girl’s Poker Night, now that us girls have taught ourselves the ways of the game (aided by a book called “The Badass Girls Guide To Poker,” I am somewhat embarrassed to report)

Seems I’m not the only DC lady with visions of straights, flushes and full houses dancing through her head.

According to this Post article, you can go learn for yourself, at Pub Poker Night:
http://www.washingtonpost.com/wp-dyn/content/article/2005/08/18/AR2005081800546.html. Of course, you’ll have to brave the Clarendon Grill to do it. But for the true high-roller, no sacrifice is too high, right?

Burn em and turn em,
Viola

2005-08-18T13:44:00.000-04:00

Weekly Vitals - One can never get their fill (or, based on this week's Vitals, maybe one shouldn't be getting their fill)

Just how worried are Americans about their weight today? HELLO! Everyone, right? Not so Madames/Mademoiselles...

A recent Gallup Poll asked that very question and found that nearly half of Americans say they worry about their weight at least some of the time. The other half say they rarely or never worry about their weight.
Excuse Me? There is a population of people who never worry about their weight? Can I meet them, can I become one? Sign me up!

57% of women say they worry about their weight
Fewer than 4 in 10 men (39%) worry abour their weight

This pattern has been consistent since Gallup first asked this question in 1990.
At that time:
46% of women and only 21% of men said they worried about their weight
In 1999, 52% of women said they worried, compared with 31% of men

Interestingly, younger women (those aged 18 to 49) are much more likely to worry about their weight than are older women (those aged 50 and older) or men of any age. The latest poll finds:

62% of younger women worry about their weight all or some of the time
51% of older women worry about their weight all or some of the time
Among men, 40% of younger men and 38% of older men say they worry this often.

Results are based on telephone interviews with 1,006 national adults, aged 18 and older, conducted July 7-10, 2005.
Source: Gallup

And we care about Martha because?

Her stock soars when she's goes to prison
hell, we love celebrity gossip (If she counts as a celebrity); maybe we just love gossip

A recent CNN/USA Today/Gallup poll shows her positive rating among the American public is holding stable at 52% favorable, 31% unfavorable. See kids, you too can be a popular ex-con!
Source: Gallup

2005-08-18T10:43:00.000-04:00

“Number Five—Alive!!” Or, Why You Can’t Keep A Good Shredder Down

My mother recently tried to pawn her old paper shredder off on me. This is because she bought herself a new, super-powered shredder that can shred tennis shoes and whole phone books. She is terribly concerned about keeping her private stuff private, preferably by shredded it into thousands of little paper confetti strands. I, on the other hand, don’t give a flying crap about that stuff, as 75% of my “private” documents fall into the “not classified” category. The other 25% fall into the “who gives a rat’s ass?” category.

Now, on the other hand, shredding shit is fun. I’ll give her that. And I suppose I ought to protect my dubiously important info more diligently. My friend Joe apparently shares my mom’s affinity for shredding. That man likes to shred. Upon opening a brand new, fresh pack of playing cards with which to play Asshole, he shreds the jokers. Just because he can. This certainly qualifies as 'unnecessary use of a shredding device,' but who am I to deny a man his jollies?

Point in case: after a half dozen beers last night we found ourselves pondering what to shred. We considered a slice of American cheese, but worried it might gum up the works. Then, in a flash of inspiration, Joe decided to see how the shredder could handle his “Asshole Accoutrement”—a caramel-colored mullet wig traditionally bequeathed on the Big Loser of our Asshole game.

Turns out, there IS something a shredder can’t handle—it gobbled that sucker up in no time flat, chewed it all the way down to the strange mullet-wig netting that holds the mullet wig together, emitted the low rumble of a dying shredder, and went kaput.

It reminded me strangely of the sad almost-conclusion to that perennial 1980s favorite “Short Circuit,” starring Ally Sheedy and Steve Guttenberg, when Johnny Five, the robot with a heart of gold, finally succumbs to his oppressors , and “blink”--just like that--goes to the great robot castle in the sky.

And, much like the happy conclusion of “Short Circuit,” you’ll be relieved to know that after we picked mangled wads of synthetic mullet-hair out, we were able to miraculously resurrect the Lil Shredder that Could, just slightly worse for the wear. Proving, of course, that you can’t keep a good shredder down.

And while we're talking robots, here's a FREE trivia question for you faithful readers: what's the name of the girl robot from TVs' "Small Wonder"?

wickie, wickie,
--Viola

2005-08-17T10:42:00.000-04:00

Serious reasons to keep the contents of your "city" purse with you, even in the wild: BEARS!

When I informed my co-workers I was off to Alaska for my annual Fairbanks to Yukon getaway the response was so predictable: "Don't get eaten by a bear!", "Are you going to stay in an Igloo?", and "Better like salmon, it's going to be your staple.".

First off, no one in Alaska resides in an Igloo; people do live "off the grid" but their houses include all of the normal components like foundation, insulation, glass windows, fireplaces/stoves, wood, etc.
Second, I would love for salmon to be my daily staple - salmon scrambler for breakfast, lox for lunch, red salmon on the grill for dinner, and maybe even salmon sushi for dessert. So maybe consuming all of this salmon in one day is not ideal, but Alaskan salmon is truly divine. It is some of the richest, most flavorful fish I have ever tasted; no seasoning required.

Reflecting on my response to the bear comments, well, the whole foot in mouth thing definitely applies.

There she is, in all of 200+ lb. glory - we named her Ruina as she broke up our beer and reindeer sausage dining fest.

We were about seven hours away from our final destination: Whitehorse, Yukon. It was about 9pm and someone suggested it was time for beer; we became all Homer Simpson-like and made our fearless driver pull over into the first camp-able roadside pull-off. This was probably our first mistake. It's not that we didn't want to support Canadian campgrounds, it's more like we wanted to get out the car at that very moment and nothing was going to stop us.

Like the good and experienced campers that we are, we began to set up our tents and the hospitality/bug tent, so we could cook without the constant nibbling by the Canadian skeeters. We threw together a feast of spaghetti, broccoli and reindeer sausage. The smell of the meat cooking was quite sharp - but we weren't focused on what others (creatures, that is) may have thought, our goal was to quell our growling tummies.

We dug into our dinner like the grubby little campers that we were and we ate heartily. All of the sudden we heard some guy screaming, up on the road. "GET, get - GO, go - NOW! NOW!". We were on the Alaskan Highway, literally, in the middle of nowhere. This was not normal. We soon discovered the very reason the driver was yelping, hooting and scaring us shitless. Her picture is posted above. I could have been the polar fleece, long-john wearing queen of the day if only I had smuggled the contents of my "going out" bag across the border.

To be on the safe side, we let Ruina have the campsite and we vacated our drunk and full little asses out of there so quickly, we had to rely on my photos to prove this incident actually occurred.

2005-08-10T15:34:00.000-04:00

Movie Mini Review: More like the "Pukes of Hazzard" (HAHAHahaha!!)

And if you liked that joke, maybe this is the movie for you.

Yours truly went and saw 'Dukes of Hazzard' last night. I will not even bother to explain how i got roped into this (guilt, guilt guilt from Youngster). But I will say that it was truly, honestly, the shittiest piece of work I've paid $9 for in quite some time.

Let me say that yes, I am a fan of the 70s TV series. And no, I do not think the original is sacred, or even "good" in terms of plot, characters, or any of the measures by which we typically rate television shows. By those measures, the original Dukes was bad TV. But it was GOOD bad TV, you know? It was campy, it made use of redneck stereotypes, it over-sexualized women, they all had poufy curl-tastic 70s hair, and the muscle cars were more charismatic than the actors.

But at least it wasn't trying to be what it was not. And on occasion, it was actually FUNNY.

The new Dukes movie is so bad it makes my ass want to suck a lemon (to paraphrase Mama K). Allow me to specify:

At one point Bo suggests to Luke--apropos of nothing--that it is OK if Uncle Jesse gets killed, because then they can have the farm [pause for riotous laughter]. Then Bo says: "just kidding, man!!" HAHAHAHAHAhahahahah!!!!!!!!!!!! What's funnier than that??

Oh yeah, and Burt Reynolds is just like Boss Hogg, if Boss Hogg lost 100 pounds and got every line on his face tanned, botoxed and lifted until it was as orange-y and airbrushed as Jessica Simpson's ass.

And--here is a "Dukes" joke, as delivered by Willie Nelson (Unc. Jesse) who seemed as if he had received THC therapy and a colonoscopy on the same day (read: wobbly-kneed and glazey-eyed).
Q: "Why do divorces cost so much?
A: Because they are worth it!!!!
HAHAHAHAHAHhahahahahah!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Do not, under any circumstances, go to see this movie. I understand that there are plenty of guys out there who are in it for the Daisy Duke Asscheek factor. Do not kid yourself. If you want to see some tits and ass, go buy a Hustler. It has more dignity that this film.

Wanting the 2 hours of her life back, even if they are spent shouting for jello at the old folks home,
Viola

2005-08-07T15:02:00.000-04:00

Visor Boy, reprised...

Those in the know are aware of my minor infatuation with a visor wearing prepster from the 'burbs of Va. Two months (practically to the day!) of the original offense, and who should be at our Saturday night kareoke soiree than VB himself, in the flesh. Well, never being the kind of girl to learn from her mistakes, you can imagine what happened from there. That's right--we sang a duet of The Gambler! (didn't see that coming, did you?) But then somehow, ended up snogging on his couch at 3 a.m. Eesh.

New info: says he is broken up "for real" with the on-again, off-again gf (snort! I should HOPE so! what kind of random hookup chick does he TAKE me for!?!) and he played baskteball in college (google, have you failed me??--my research revealed the VB sport of choice to be wrestling, not b ball...).

Pros: he's pretty darn cute aand has a very nice apartment which literally shrieks "my girlfriend and i went to Home Depot together and now i have a red dining room." But nonetheless, far better than the wretched foot-fungus-infested sty some males actually call home (can you hear me, Youngster??). Somehow, I've come to believe home ownership is hot. This must mean i am getting old.
Also, (did I mention he's pretty cute?) he has a birthmark on his shoulder shaped liked Australia. G'day, mate!!

Cons: says he doesn't like to read (cue eye roll), but loves to travel. Not sure if I could give up one for the other--why pick? But the good news is, he CAN read. 100% literate and all. He just reads lots of travel books. He's not an uber-Republican book burner or anything, I hope. Hmmm.

There were a few other, more x-rated items listed here, but for the sake of all of our decency I've decide to spare you the details. But I will leave you with this question: Why is it possible to have REALLY good sex with someone you find intensely annoying in real life, and turn right around to have lackluster sex with someone you are reasonably attracted to? This seems counterintuitive, but there it is. I do not get it, but feel free to weigh in on this, folks.

Skankily yours,
Skankana VonSkankstein, baroness of Skankistan

2005-08-05T11:09:00.000-04:00

Hot White Cum, Riding around with Rawk Stars, and the Triumph of Self-Respect...

Had tickets to an acoustic Liz Phair show at the Birchmere last night. Thoroughly enjoyable. Liz was so... Liz--raunchy, kind of off-key, and wearing the worlds shortest denim miniskirt while propped on a stool with her guitar, giving the whole audience a 2-hour long peek at her bright green undies. No one seemed to particularly mind, o'course--in fact, several dudes on the right of the stage kept screeching for her to turn and face them.

Now of course, I was more into the older stuff in her repertoire--I can do without her newer poppy sound. But us oldies fans weren't disappointed--she sang old faves Never Said, Mesmerizing, Supernova, and delightfully, Fuck and Run, along with a new soon-to-be-fave called Hot White Cum (to quote Dave Barry--I am not making this up). She opened with Polyester Bride from whitechocolatespaceegg, the newest "new" Liz album I really dig. Also sang a nice version of Uncle Alvarez from WCSE. People were yelling out requests for favorites--I'd have loved to hear Cinco de Mayo, but hey, can't have everything, right? Liz was accompanied by some guy on guitar who she never really took the time to introduce, but he didn't seem to mind being overlooked, as the chances that her tits might fly out of her top right next to him were pretty good.

Also of note--the opening act was Cary Brothers--that's one guy--first name, Cary, last name, Brothers. Not "The Brothers Cary," as I automatically assumed. Best know for the song "Blue Eyes" on the Garden State soundtrack--he absolutely blew me away with his opening set, just wailed and whispered along with his guitar. He's a serious talent. Oh yeah, and oh-my-god-so-fucking-CUTE. See for yourself: http://www.carybrothers.com/

Anyway, that's where the story gets good--after the show SVM and I saw Mr. Brothers sitting at a bar table alone and beelined to him, where SVM promptly flopped down and announced herself. Naturally, I hung back, cuz I do not have Big Brass Balls like she does and was feeling sorta shy. Anyway, we got to chatting (I asked where his brother was, like the 'tardo I am, and received the aforementioned clarification on his name). Commiserated with him on the shittiness of riding Amtrak, etc... Very cool guy.

Anyway, SVM (again, she of the Big Brass Ones) asked him if he needed a ride back to DC and he accepted! So funny--we loaded up his guitars and various crap in my trunk and Cary got the pleasure of listening to us squabble over driving directions the whole way home, but seemed to find it amusing. Dropped him off at his friend's place on Mass Ave. Wanted to lick him but restrained myself.

Insider tip: he said he just recorded a version of True by Spandau Ballet for some new Disney flick--we listened to my Pretty in Pink soundtrack in the car and sang along to Suzanne Vega. Cary also said he also got to be on an episode of Scrubs as an extra or something...not sure of the episode, exactly... but EEK! I met a real FOZ (Friend of Zack)!

Also noteworthy--through a heroic effort, i managed to restrain myself from asking Cary probing, dorkish questions about Zack Braff--who is, you should know, the Dweebish, Self-Effacing, Funny Funny Funny Man of My Dreams. Is Zack, like totally funny in real life? What's his favorite cocktail? Is he really into that stupid Mandy Moore or is he just using her as a social stepladder? Does he like 'natural' redheads? These are just a few of the excruciatingly loser-ish type questions I wanted to ask, but did not. So you see--another instance of the Triumph of Self Respect over mawkish sycophancy. YeeHAW!

Even when i was 12....
Viola

2005-08-03T12:45:00.000-04:00

Bring Back the Bong!
Oh, yes-- it occurs to me that while I'm farting around at work I should also share an insight uncovered over the past weekend, which I spent in the Outer Banks with friends.

I warn you, it is not a trenchant insight, but I think it qualifies as "news you can use." Here 'tis: The best (and for me, from now on--the ONLY) way to drink cheap domestic beer is via Beer Bong.

Yeah, that's right, I'm sending out a rallying cry to bring back the Bong. Or beer funnel. Or whatever the heck you and your buddies called it in college. I mean, no one drinks Miller Light because it tastes so dee-lightfully frosty-liscious they just can't help themselves. Noooo. We drink Miller Light, Coors Light, Bud, Pabst, Natty and The Beast because they are cheap, cold, relativley tasteless, and better than water for getting you fucked up at the beach. Right?

Anyway, Ye Olde Bong is a highly effective frosty barley pop delivery mechansim. It just requires that you--say it together now, kids--RELAX YOUR THROAT AND SWALLOW FAST.

Yeah, yeah I know there are lots of theories floating around out there about the natural famale aptitude for beer bonging--due to practice, ya know, at opening the throat during certain sexual acts. To this I say, whatever. I'm no friggin doctor.

All I know is, after years of leading a Bong-free existance, I am just as profficient at the skill as I once was, oh those many years ago in college. Turns out it is like riding a bike. Plus, I get to drink beer without tasting, well, beer. So for me, a win-win. And lastly, I will add--post-Bong belches (while often a bit watery) can be highly satisfying.

So there. My case is made. Go here to get your own Bong: http://megaflowco.com. Because you can't use mine.

2005-08-03T11:32:00.000-04:00

Thanks to Miz Antigone for the invitation to join up. I'm planning to start posting in earnest ASAP, and many apologies for taking this long to get on the vital.dc train.

For your initial reading pleasure, here is the first installment of a new ongoing series I like to call "Sad, but True":

I just spent 20 minutes in my office's ladies room reading the latest Harry Potter while sitting on the pooper. My coworkers can only assume I'm having severe intestinal discomfort. I have no plans to disabuse them of this notion. Stupid, gullible muggles. (I know, it is pathetic, but I'm on the last chapter!!!)

Stay tuned for the next installment of "Sad, but True"

Kisses,
Viola Violante

2005-08-02T11:33:00.000-04:00

Venturing to the Great Northern Frontier to stop the drilling in ANWAR -

OK, so the later part of the statement is not quite true, but I am off to Alaska and Whitehorse, Yukon for a little vacation action. I'll be posting again when I arrive back, toward the middle of the month. In the meantime, here are some lovely scenic shots from my great northern expedition last year.

2005-07-31T22:50:00.000-04:00

Weekly Vitals - Get Your Fix.

Wine-o's of the world rejoice, this Bud's for you!
Wine continues to increase in popularity, at the expense of beer.
Since 1992, Gallup has been asking Americans who drink alcohol (a little less than two-thirds of the population) which of three types of alcoholic beverages they prefer: wine, beer, or liquor. The trend is clear: Beer has dropped in popularity while wine's popularity has increased.
In 1992, 27% of drinkers said they preferred wine, while 47% preferred beer. Now, according to Gallup's July 7-10 poll, 39% of drinkers prefer wine while 36% prefer beer. The percentage preferring liquor has stayed about the same since 1992.
Source: Gallup

Can't escape it, residing here in the nation's capital - the POTUS Approval.
The real question is, what does the POTUS think of us - the people of The United States?
The People's Approval rating, by The President of the United States, at 40% (lower than his own); but, all hope is not lost because "God loves you, and I love you. And you can count on both of us as a powerful message that people who wonder about their future can hear." George W. Bush, Los Angeles, Calif., March 3, 2004
*Contact Vitals' author to receive polling methodology that arrived at the 40% statistic

Bush Approval at 44%: Lowest measurement of his presidency
The July 25-28 [2005] Gallup Poll finds 44% of Americans approving and 51% disapproving of the job Bush is doing as president. Bush's prior low approval rating was 45%, which occurred once in March and once again in June of this year.
Source: Gallup

Contrary to popular belief, this approval rating information is not meant to push any type of political agenda or to make the POTUS feel unloved, unpopular or ugly. There are many people and many country's that do not embrace democratic principals or believe that citizens should be granted the freedom of speech or expression. If we don't exercise these rights, how will anyone stay informed, become quizzical or motivate themselves to perform extended research on a controversial topic. Have a daily latte and don't forget to exercise your rights!

2005-07-27T14:30:00.000-04:00

Summer Reading Recommendations - Jog outside in 100% humidity or curl up in front of the window unit with a compelling read...hmmm....

It's not quite as cozy as the fireplace; however, if you manipulate the temperature control, the system will produce a cool enough gust to cause the need for a cuddly fleece blanket. Everyone has access to a fleece blanket in the beginning of August, right?

Reading is a wonderful and relaxing activity, unfortunately, we tend to only have a few moments here and there to catch up with all of those neatly stacked books biding their time on the bedside table. There are the moments before we pass out at night and we convince ourselves that we can knock out a chapter or two - right. Usually, it's a one paragraph deal, depending on the events that occurred prior to sleeping. There are the Metro and Bus moments - you hop on-board thinking about the ten minutes of bliss, just you, your book and your headphones. Instead of solitude and enjoyment, you find yourself elbow-to-elbow with every other soul in DC who commutes to work. Sometimes, it really does feel like 1/2 million people are crammed onto the metro car that you swear looked completely empty and free of madness. This is not what I would call an ideal reading environment.

When you finally make it to a vacation destination or, you have a few hours on a Saturday, here are some recommended reads:

Thank You for Smoking by Christopher Buckley
Some of the best satirical writing ever! I could not put this one down!
Black Water by Joyce Carol Oates
It's as if she's inside the head of Mary Jo Kopechne.
Villa Incognito by Tom Robbins Just plain weird and wonderful and completely fantastical.

Just can't quite bring myself to get into the world of Harry Potter - I have made it 3/4 of the way through the first book, but I'm not salivating for more. I believe I may be the only one in the world - apparently, some people live and breath "Harry". My co-worker took a day off of work to read the new book, in it's entirety. I don't think the children of Rwanda are waiting in anticipation for the next Harry Potter book - but then again, I still think that "Where's Waldo" is still a trendy thing.

2005-07-21T17:13:00.000-04:00

Research and Ye Shall be Rewarded.

The ever-lovable housing discussion and related stressful thought process - to buy or not to buy; personally, it keeps me up at night. For every article one comes across that advises buying is a smart move, there are another dozen articles that talk about the "bubble" or "froth" or the general madness of the DC and its neighboring housing market and related prices. Like most people, I like to have options. Although I am seriously exploring the idea of buying, I may want to renew my current lease, if the condo that I am renting is not sold in the near future.

When my landlord informed me that next year's rent will be increased by 7.5%, it was either sell the cat, buy a house or get out. Determined to find out if this number, called "standard" by my landlord, was indeed legal, I started to do some research. Can't say I have caught onto the Harry Potter craze so I won't be waving my wand "just-so" to rememedy this current situation. I suppose I am taking more of the Law & Order approach and stalking those who can give me fact, proof, and documentation.

Thanks to my roommate, who hunted down the Tenant's Guide to Safe and Decent Housing, I was able to read about the CPI-W or Consumer Price Index for Urban Wage Earners and Clerical Workers. I guess I am an Urban Wage Earner because I do not fit into the Clerical category - who knew? The CPI-W is published in February each year and available by calling the HRA Customer Service Center at 202.442.4610. I made the call. I was directed to call the Office of the Secretary so I could track down the DC Municipal Regulations and Register.

From the DC Municipal Regulations and Register screen, scroll down and click on DCMR & DCR Online. When the next screen loads, click on DCR Online. The interface is not what I would call "user-friendly"; think library research, circa 1990. Your best bet is the Search Form tab.

If you want the PDF that contains the official CPI-W for 2005, drop me an email. I will try and post the PDF, for all to access, sometime this weekend. In the meantime, I am preparing my case so my landlord cannot unjustly rule my land. So sad that Johnny Cochran is no longer among us; he would have made a wonderful addition to my legal team. I guess there is always the freak that represented Michael Jackson...or was it the other way around?

2005-07-20T16:28:00.000-04:00

Statistics and those responsible for generating a buzz about these ubiquitous measurements are alive and kicking (aka, Mr. Alan Greenspan). Maybe Mr. Greenspan will share his Fountain of Youth location with Chief Justice William Rehnquist; every determined soul needs hydration. Here are Wednesday's Vitals:

Of importance to the DC region (sorry to be a naysayer here, but I just don't see any froth in DC, unless it is oozing out of Starbucks© and becoming the next "silent killer" - oh wait, people are starting to catch on to the fact that thousand caloriecaffeinatedd drinks may be contributing to the obesity epidemic - alas, I digress):
Greenspan also warned that the "boom" in housing prices could reverse itself in certain geographical areas. "We certainly cannot rule out declines in home prices, especially in some local markets," said Greenspan, adding that there are "signs of froth in some local markets where home prices seem to have risen to unsustainable levels."
See Full Article: Greenspan warns on fuel, housing
Gallup asked this question in its July 7-10 [2005] poll: "The 1973 Roe v. Wade decision established a woman's constitutional right to an abortion, at least in the first three months of pregnancy. Would you like to see the Supreme Court COMPLETELY OVERTURN its Roe v. Wade decision, or not?" Two-thirds of Americans (68%) said the court should not completely overturn Roe.
See Full Article: Gallup: The Nation's Pulse
Iraq remains the most important issue on the American public's agenda. The most recent Gallup Poll shows 25% of Americans name Iraq as the most important problem facing the country today -- the top mention on the list. A new NBC News/Wall Street Journal poll gave respondents a list of eight problems and asked which should be the next priority for the federal government. Iraq was on top, selected by 23% of Americans.

The public's view of the war in Iraq is becoming more negative. The most recent CNN/USA Today/Gallup poll showed 44% of Americans feel the situation in Iraq was worth going to war over, leaving the majority, 53% saying it was not.
See Full Article: Gallup: The Nation's Pulse

Numbers/Statistics to Ponder:

The current population of the world is: 6,453,635,161
For More Information: Negative Population Growth
According to the The 2005-2006 National Pet Owners Survey (NPOS), Americans own approximately 73 million dogs, 90 million cats, 139 million freshwater fish, 9 million saltwater fish, 16 million birds, 18 million small animals and 11 million reptiles.
For More Information: American Pet products Manufacturers Association, Inc.
The black satin Louis Vuitton Flat is available at Eluxury for $795.00
For More Information: eluxury

2005-07-19T10:01:00.000-04:00

Frazzled by stress? Follow these tips to lower that blood pressure and regain your balance:

You glance at your watch - 6:33am. You bolt out of the house so quickly that your cat is still attached to your pant leg (note: hem is now partially removed). First things first - remove cat (place gently back into apartment), then, deal with hem (remove excess string and tie remainder in a knot). Run yourself, your luggage, carry-on and laptop to the metro. Never mind that the air is made of 5% "air" and 95% humidity; it's only your hair that will suffer. On the up-side, you are conditioning your body for July running weather. That is never an easy task. Get to airport, print out boarding pass, run to gate, hop on plane and then:

Face the facts: you are on-board an airplane. No one can contact you and no one can force you to make small talk if you immediately attach your iPod to your head. Take out your book, bottle of water and snack bag. Read like there is no tomorrow. For the next two hours, no one can you deny you this pleasure.
If need be, knock back an in-flight cocktail. Everyone loves mini bottles of vodka.

Your family visit begins with an immediate third degree, followed by a cross examination from your Grandmother, followed by a three-person all talking over one another recap when your late uncle joins the party. It truly doesn't get better than this. Your blood is boiling, you begin craving a gimlet at 10am and you can feel a lash-out diatribe forming in your head. Regroup, put on a smile and:

Start counting down the time when you can get a workout in - preferably running or kick-boxing.
Laugh along with your family and remember, they are only grilling you because your physical presence coincides with the annual eclipse. Turn the tables (in a nice way) - start asking questions back (preferably, changing the subject). Ask about distant cousins, the upcoming family reunion, gossip, etc.
Reminisce - Everyone loves to remember the time, when you were two, and you took off your party dress and danced about in your nudeness at your cousin's wedding.
Walk out of the room - make a phone call, walk around the block, get coffee - just get out. Fresh perspective, even removing yourself for five minutes, can make a huge difference.

2005-07-14T10:48:00.000-04:00

Cheers for the truly nice people in our offices or employment shacks.

Do you really want to be one?

Nothing phases these folks, and much to my dismay, I have actually been accused as a member of the happy employee tribe. In my case, an exceptional number of negative events recently occurred in my employment environment;I dealt with the situation by becoming overly chipper.

There is absolutely nothing wrong with being classified as one of the nice crew. Some of my co-workers are by-the-book "good" people: raising money at work for various charities, helping others with moving and organizing good-bye and hello lunches. The nice-ness comes so natural to this crew; they exude it.

When you are ever-so slightly cynical and seen the movie Office Space one too many times, these people can grate on you, just a wee bit.

Truly nice people say the following things:

"Welcome to your working day, take a load off."
"Smile, it's Wednesday Afternoon - 2.5 days to go!"
"Bet some M&Ms will perk you right up!"
"I'm wearing bright orange - think of me as a human sun, I can brighten your day" (this is no joke - I really couldn't make-up something this good).
"Brought in snacky-snacks, just because! Everyone help themselves to some chocolate!" (Unfortunately, those with small children occasionally forget to drop the extra "y". I am thinking about reminding these nice people...)

One may also have the "nice, but annoying crowd";we all have them. Here are some simple, straight-up advice lines for dealing with these special mates:

Ignore. The next time smile-ly Steve stands in your doorway and randomly starts telling you about his crazzzy night at the bar, wink at your officemate. He/she should know what to do. The moment your phone rings, you are in the clear.
Say "I don't really like chocolate-marshmallow-peanut butter-super sugar cookies, thanks". Or,
"My bikini doesn't really like me to eat snacks that are over 1000 calories a pop."
To the co-worker that wants to know why you haven't stopped by his office to eat his "goodies" (not those goodies - if that ever happens, follow your organization's process for dealing with sexual harassment issues).
When the response to your effort at being attentive and asking "How was your weekend?" is "A little stressful; we're trying to get pregnant", don't look horrified. Simply state "Thanks for sharing." and briskly walk away.

2005-07-13T14:15:00.000-04:00

Statistics are Cool - Wednesday's Vitals:

In a June 6-8 (2005) poll, 37% of Americans told Gallup they believe in haunted houses, while 46% say they don't, and 16% aren't sure.
[And even more interesting - The tendency to believe in some paranormal occurrences varies by ideology -- political conservatives appear significantly more skeptical than either moderates or liberals. Twenty-eight percent of conservatives believe in haunted houses versus 42% of moderates and 42% of liberals. Similar patterns emerge with respect to ghosts -- 25% of conservatives believe in ghosts, compared with 35% of moderates and 42% of liberals. Age could partly explain the ideological differences -- younger adults tend to identify more as liberals than older adults do, and younger adults are more likely to believe.]
Source: The Gallup Organization
How much confidence do you have that NASA, the U.S. space agency, will be able to prevent accidents like [the space shuttle Columbia] from happening in the future -- a great deal of confidence, a fair amount, not very much, or none at all?
(June 24-26, 2005)
Great Deal: 20%
Fair Amount: 56%
Not Very Much: 18%
None at All: 5%
No Opinion: 1%
Source: The Gallup Organization

How Timely: Shuttle's Liftoff Canceled by Fuel Sensor Problem
As you may know, there are websites known as "blogs" or "web logs," where people sometimes post their thoughts. How familiar are you with "blogs" -- very familiar, somewhat familiar, not too familiar, or not at all familiar?
(Feb 25-27, 2005)
Very Familiar: 7%
Somewhat Familiar: 19%
Not too Familiar: 18%
Not at all Familiar: 56%
No Opinion: *
Source: The Gallup Organization

The Most Profound Daily Stat:
You use more calories eating celery than there are in the celery itself.
Source: Funny Facts

If any reader spent Tuesday night as that pesky fly on my wall, please don't reveal my true feelings about the science and study of Statistics. So close to receiving my Masters, except one teeny-tiny requirement: Statistics. Almost every night, I chip away at another chapter, complete the quiz, and then do a dance--really, I do dance. While my friends sip cocktails and catch up on life and work, I sit in my kitchen (in close proximity to the wine rack - a very important fact), diligently learning how to take a population and produce a set of statistics, based on habits and facts belonging to that population. I also praise the wonder that is my scientific calculator - my partner in crime. As much as I hate blowing two hours every night on this class, I am finding myself smitten with all of the interesting and random Stats available online.
Yes, I will get out more often, recycled air is clearly making me insane.

2005-07-12T13:18:00.000-04:00

99.9 fahrenheit degrees - cocktails that please

Simple to prepare, even more delightful to consume. The only difficult ingredient is for the "Tangy Treat" cocktail. This ingredient must be purchased from you local 7-11.

The ingredients are provided – you play chemist and make the proportions work for you.

Lovely Lime
Minute Maid © Light Lime-aid, Hangar One Kaffir Lime Vodka © (or, Vodka of preference), crushed ice, fresh lime, club soda
Hawaiian Punch
Minute Maid © Light Mixed Berry, Hangar One Mandarin Blossom © (or, Vodka of preference), crushed ice, fresh OJ, club soda
Tangy Treat
Mango-Peach Crystal Light Slurpee (7-11) ©, Hangar One Mandarin Blossom © (or, Vodka of preference), crushed ice, club soda
Minty-Fresh
Bonny Doon 2003 Ca' del Solo Big House White © (It’s a screw-cap!), fresh mint leaves – crush them (as if you are making a Mohito), smidgen of sugar, ice

2005-07-11T14:14:00.000-04:00

Ethics in the work place.

I think it's fair to say that swiping a paper clip, notepad or left-over mouse pad from the user conference circa 2003 is no longer a grappling issue. Larger and more complex issues have found their way into our working lives.

Let's examine this dilemma, presented by a friend that works at a PR firm. Her firm is working on a strategy for a specialized drug and they are actively recruiting people who understand the niche market that intends to purchase this drug. Finding people that fit the desired qualifications has proven almost impossible.

My friend, who we'll call Ana, knows a head-hunter who represents a resource that fits Ana's needs. The truth of the matter is, Ana just doesn't know this person, it's her very close friend. To make the situation all the more complex, Ana's friend is living with the president of Ana's company. To further complicate the situation, Ana's friend represents clients for income, meaning that if Ana selected the client, Ana's company would need to pay in order to hire this person.

Ana, in a desperate bind to find the right person, has another member of her team phone-interview the candidate. The team member reports back that the candidate, who we'll call Stella, is pretty solid and would be worth bringing into the office for a formal interview.

Moments before Ana's team member reported back, the company president told Ana that he is not willing to pay for a candidate; further, the president is aware that the candidate is being represented by his girlfriend.

Ana feels the pressure and confesses the situation to the team member who performed the phone interview, Claire. Claire asks Ana "So, you want me to decide if the candidate is worth paying for or not? I was simply asked to give my professional opinion, not to make a call on the candidate's worth. Further, I think it's a bit strange that the president's girlfriend wants to charge our company for her client."

Ana feels awful, Claire is upset at the situation and Ana still does not have the resources to move forward on her latest account.

2005-07-10T18:41:00.000-04:00

It's 3am and you're, quite frankly, rather sloshed and hungry - how to avoid the next morning guilt and how not to eat the entire contents of your refrigerator...

If you have ever had an evening that consists of Blackcat’s Mousetrap dance-party, late-night neighborly nightcaps at Wonderland and a lot of distilled grain, this lil’ entry is for you. Of course, this entry is also for anyone who has been flat-out wasted.

You feel the need to eat at 3am for several reasons including the fact that you actually have burned a ton of calories dancing you heart out to your favorite live band, the last time you ate was 10 hours ago, and you want to sober up. Sobering up is key, especially if there is a, um, "special" friend loitering in your living room. Sobering up helps you make that all important "next move" decision - attack him or feign sickness to get him the hell out of your house and off your property. For some us, sobering up is about refueling for face-washing and teeth-brushing as well as putting the kibosh on any chance that you may puke because you have nothing but a 1/2 liter of rum in your tummy.

Your brain is pulsating with images of junk food - salty snacks like potato chips come in-and-out of focus, sweet snacks like cookies and brownies grow legs and cartwheel inside of your thinking cap, you begin to sing the jingle for popular fast food joints, you tear through the trash for the take-out menu that has chinese food and southern style chicken wings and lastly, you are absolutely certain that the Popeye's drive thru on 14th is open at all hours.

Stop the madness and promptly down three tall glasses of water. If you are feeling like a water snob, stock up on Smartwater (the "plain" version, not the flavored options). Once you have started the re-hydration process, think light and healthy - after all, you are teetering on the pass out line. Deli turkey, fruit or some dry toast is perfect; even a micro-waved veggie burger is a smart choice. Save the Doritos for another time when you aren't immediately heading off to bed - who want to wake up with nacho cheese powder all over their bed? ewww, gross.

2005-07-09T17:32:00.000-04:00

Brace yourself ladies and gents - this photo is a teensy-weensy bit blinding:

Today is a wonderful July day. The weather goddess has graced us with low humidity, few clouds, and occasional breezes - perfect day for trying out one of DC's community pools. My roommate and I ventured over to the Francais pool on N Street NW to observe the obnoxious and bulging packages of our fellow man. Catching some rays, enjoying the cool water and relaxing were passé reasons to head to the pool. Thankfully, we were able to fulfill our goal; it would have been a frustrating venture if there were no package sightings.
This photo was shot when I, feeling very refreshed and tanned after a short cat-nap, lifted up my head to see if any lounge chairs were abandoned. After the initial shock wore off, I was able to grab my camera phone and capture this crowning piece of evidence. We couldn't possibly keep this one to ourselves. You can now look away and everything will be OK, we promise.

2005-07-07T13:35:00.000-04:00

Greetings and Welcome!

Here are the vitals or facts, if you will. The females (in DC) are 2:1 to the males in this city. That statistic does not give us the right to push our fellow males out of the city, haze them or make them feel small or puny; however, being in the majority, does give us a voice (not a whining or resentful one, either). This blog is about things that interest the women of dc, and yes, for myself and most of my females friends, males are of interest. Alas, there are many other topics, other than males, that this blog will explore and (hopefully) offer insight upon.

Living in DC, we are faced with purchasing real-estate, making financial investments, forced into wearing panty-hose (ugh!!), constantly hunting for "stylish but comfortable shoes" (they totally don't exist), volunteering, dating and finding some time to just breath.

The content found here is meant to be light, informative, amusing, introspective, sometimes cynical but always true. Magazines are my motiviation here - I have a love/hate relationship with them. Love to read through them; hate how they re-package the same content from month to month.

I'm looking to try something new - original, informative, pleasurable and inspiring content is what this blog is all about.