Some Unfinished Business

Well, I got my first resume out since the move. Looks like I might do well on that resolution. It's not my dream job, but it's not retail. More importantly, I'm making an effort.

Happy Belated 35th Wedding Anniversary Mom & Dad. (I felt like such a heal when I forgot it.) Hmmm. Two birthdays next week. Should I take care of it now or trust myself to remember. I'll take a chance.

Thank you to everyone who has supported the blog since its creation in March. For those who have linked to me from the beginning, Kevin,The Rant King has come so far in the last year. I wish I had signed up through you for BlogExplosion. Jay, you constantly motivate me to learn more about policy issues. I can't wait to see the new look over at Folkbum's. Thanks to Obz, not only did he give me a great Weblog Review, he also linked to me on his site, unsung.net, and oh, he's a really nice guy. Last but not least, is Jen, my partner in crime at Nocturnal Elucidations. She's an amazing designer and an even better friend.

Also, I would be remiss if I didn't send a shout out to the Misc Karen fan club. They haven't always been the most devoted in their attentions, but they do have busy jobs.

And listen kids, regardless of how you ring in the new year, keep it safe.

This Was Too Much Fun to Resist

congratulations. you are the kiss my ass happy
bunny. You don't care about anyone or anything.
You must be so proud


which happy bunny are you?
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Resolutions Before Booze

Oh, tomorrow there will be booze. I look forward to it. I also figure that I might as well get the resolutions done today. I know tomorrow that I will see a ton of them on various blogs.

1. Get a job, ideally one that utilizes my degrees and pays me what I'm worth.
2. Lose 30-40 pounds. Then I'd weigh what I did a year ago and approximately 10 lbs. above my ideal weight.
3. Develop a writing portfolio and maybe send it to a few people.
4. Move Misc Karen to its own website, after learning enough html to actual develop something that looks decent.
5. Donate more and volunteer more.
6. Have a really nice ring on my left hand by my 30th birthday. It doesn't have to be an engagement ring. If it doesn't come from my boyfriend, I'm buying one for myself. I've already started shopping for it.

Insert Book Title Here

Actually, I need you to insert book titles in my comments.

Why?

Well, I'm working on a project, a list of 100 books to read before I die, and I'm not as far into my list as I thought I'd be. I do have the makings for a list of 50 books that I would like to read again before I die. I know there I other books that I would like to read, I'm just a little rusty at the recall, so please make suggestions in the comments section.

Buckling Down

Okay, the job hunt has begun in earnest. I have now been unemployed for 2 months, lack of confidence be damned. Any suggestions?

The Day After Sales

I love sales. I'm generally not a big shopper, but I can sniff out a bargain. Hence the giddy joy of after Christmas sales and dragging the b/f around the mall. Bath & Body Works needs to get the semi-annual sale in gear. I was disappointed. Same for Victoria Secret's. But I have new tennis shoes and jeans. I also dropped a good chunk of change at Sam's Club, but it will be a long time before I run out of toilet paper. Nothing says thanks for the Christmas cash like two-ply. On another fun Christmas cash note, I had a lot of bills to enter into Where's George? (See link to the right.)

Merry Christmas!

Ah, it's good to be home, especially after a pleasant drive on a warm day with no wind. Hope your Christmas is going as well as mine.

Lord Almighty, Home at Last

Ah, the joys of being back at my parents after driving for over 2 hours in really cold, really windy weather.

Oh, and I opened the box today. Less than thrilling.

Oh the Anticipation

There are certain things that I look forward to every Christmas. The million and one baked goods and candies that my mom makes. Ham. It's so much better than turkey. The tv specials (Emmit Otter's Jug Band Christmas, A Charlie Brown Christmas, and the Christmas episodes of Mr. Bean). The Christmas Story has been a favorite for years. My brother is the only person that I know who can recite the whole bit about the B.B. gun.

This year, it's all about the box on the coffee table. A cute little box, maybe 10 inches square and 5 inches deep. Decorative, but unwrapped. It's toying with my emotions. My boyfriend placed it there yesterday. Under the ceramic Christmas tree that I put up. In one of the rare moments moments of clear, unspoken communication, it is understood that I am not to touch this box. There be goodies inside. A friend told me today that it probably just contains a note saying that I shouldn't have looked inside.

How many days until Christmas?

Freaky Kitty

Jack has discovered a new hangout in our house, the bathroom. He just sits beside the tub for hours at a time. When we can't take it anymore and go in to remove him, he hides in the shelves under the sink. The door won't catch when closed, so he claws it open and claws up on a piece of floor.

Slightly Improved Blogger Spam

I need to get a job. Or a hobby. Preferably a job. Hey. Maybe Blogger could hire me to sniff out all the spam blogs.

All About Bathrooms

Sad News

Seeing
this blog reminds me of the sad news I got now. When you go to Krispy Kreme when the "Hot Now" sign is lit, they no longer give you the free donut fresh off the line. That's sad and wrong.

Really. Come on Now. At Least Get Some Different Templates.

Jeremy Adam's blog

Really Now. Enough of the Spammer Blogs.

Bob Jones's blog

Samantha Brook's blog

Okay, I'm finally getting around to checking out other blogs again. You know. Supporting my fellow blogger. Trying to get ideas for my own blog. Then I find this crap. Does anyone know how I report this to Blogger?

Samantha Brook's blog

I Miss California?

Well, it's been pretty busy for a pretty dead time in my life.

The countdown to 30 has begun. Now that I am 29, the b/f takes great delight in reminding me that I am almost 30. My mom suggested that I remind him that I will get to draw retirement before him.

We also celebrated our 2 year anniversary. At a crappy Mexican restaurant. I had been craving Mexican for weeks, so it pained me. I kept pining for the place we went to in Cali, where we'd sit at the bar and have them make the guacamole fresh in front of us. At least the margarita was good, and big.

This week has primarily been occupied with the Great Piano Search of '04, the piano being a Christmas gift for the b/f's mom. I'm the one who has played piano so I go along for the ride to check the sound and ask maintenance questions. Luckily, the search is over.

On the productive front, I have gotten involved with the founding of an educational nonprofit, which means that I am finally putting my masters to use.

And on one final note, I love Monk Malloy now even more than I did as a student at ND. He has spoken out against the embarrassment that was the firing of Ty Willingham. I hope all the alums who called for Willingham's head are in a rage over the current shambles of the Notre Dame football program. Maybe they'll get so outraged they'll drop that they will drop all association with the university. Oooooh, now that would be a great Christmas gift.

Thanks for Nothing!

I never thought I'd say this, but I'm embarrassed to be associated with Notre Dame. Last night, I was so angry that I could not find words for it.

In case you were wondering why, ND fired head coach Ty Willingham. I've posted my views on Coach Willingham before, so I won't go into all the reasons I thoughts he was good for Notre Dame again. I will talk about Nebraska instead.

I grew up in the land of the Big XII conference. When I left for ND, Nebraska was huge and the few Nebraska fans in my area gave me hell for all of Notre Dame's failings. I was happy to point out the lack of felons on the ND team and pointed to how well-rounded the program was. Flash forward several years. Nebraska is the laughingstock now of the Big XII. Not so much because they're not national champs anymore, but because they go through coaches like water, expecting one to turn their fortunes around overnight. They have become so obsessed with success that they look pretty stupid now.

Guess Notre Dame now reminds me of? I was particulary sickened by those students who wanted to protest, demanding Willingham's removal. They think they have it bad. They should have had Bob Davie's as the coach. They are hoping to poach Utah's coach, a former ND assistant coach. Guess what? Bob Davie has all but told Meyer to go elsewhere because the job's too hard because of academics required of the athletes and the location in the middle of nowhere. Thanks Mr. Washed-Up. Why couldn't ND have fired him sooner.

Did anyone suggest a rally of prayer for a classmate and his family who were in a tragic accident over the weekend? Way to screw up your priorities. I'm ashamed to be associated with you, ND.

Winter Wonderland

Well, I've come to recognize that the tale of the move is turning out too long. I'll have to save it for a night curled up with the b/f's dsl, if it ever gets going. In the meantime...

I got my haircut. Really cut. 8 inches cut. The b/f was not please, but he didn't have to deal with the tangles. This afternoon I'm coloring it as a treat for my upcoming birthday. Plus, changing haircolor is a fun way to beat the blues.

We've already had our first snow since leaving California. We introduced the cat to snow. He wasn't that flustered until he was back inside and realized that his paws were wet. That got me a dirty look.

Anyway, must get going and prepare for a pseudo-not really job interview. More like networking. Still, I feel I shouldn't wear the ratty, comfortable clothing that I prefer and must strive to look like the professional I can be.

It's Alive!

Okay, technically it's "I'm alive!" but I like the campy sci-fi version better.

I have made it safely back to the midwest which has welcomed with speeding tickets, head colds, and crappy dsl. It's good to be home.

I've been working on an entry with all the great details about the trip, including the poor diagnostic abilities of the Pep Boys in New Mexico. So start tuning back in 'cause the fun about to begin again.

And So It Begins

Sorry for the lack of blogging. I've been working late at work, which is fine by me since I'll be getting some overtime.

Friday is my last day of work. By next Wednesday, I'll be on the road with the move, and it will realistically be at least another week before I have internet service.

Animal Instinct

I think Jack knows something's up. Maybe it's because I came home with over $50 in merchandise from PetSmart. I would have thought it was the new travel carrier that I bought for him, but I think what freaked him out was when I put him in his new harness (for which I also bought him a leash.)

Jack really doesn't like the harness. He put up a valiant effort to resist me when I was putting it on him, but like that was going to work. I won. The harness is on. He went into hiding.

He has since returned because he is lap whore. Definitely all about the snuggle. Just wait 'til he sees the Calm Down that I bought for him to take on the trip. I'm hoping it will keep him semi-medicated for the trip. The sales clerk's response was encouraging. As she scanned it, she asked me if I had just gotten a wild cat. I'm thinking this stuff is good.

You Mean I Get Overtime Now?

Yesterday, at 5:15 PM, one of my boss's asks me to come into work today. Woo hoo. Overtime. Oh wait, I was going to try to do a bunch of that packing that I've been avoiding for that last two weeks. So those 5 days of work I thought I had left are 6 again. Oh, and we're playing it by ear on whether I get to go in tomorrow. Uh, yay!

On the bright side, the boots are paid for.

The Day in Review

I was very excited to get to go in an hour later for work, namely because it meant I could sleep in an hour later this morning. However, I felt really odd being at home watching The Today Show while everyone else was working. It reminded me of when I was unemployed. I didn't like it. Have I mentioned lately that I will soon be unemployed again. Next week is my last week at work. :( I bought myself some Starbucks to cheer myself up.

At the catered lunch at work, I accidentally dipped the sleeve of my favorite red sweater, the one with bell sleeves, into the sauce/gravy/drippings when getting a piece of meat. Sadly the meat didn't taste as good as what was on my sleeve. I was constantly reminded all afternoon of the lunch that might have been.

I capped the day by shoe shopping with women for work in preparation for a big shindig next week. Despite my impending unemployment, I bought myself black boots. Good, conquer the world boots that actually look much more grown-up that the shoes I usually wear. They were only $10 more than I wanted to spend, but 2 months from now, if I'm still unemployed, I'm going to wish I had that $50. I'm consoling myself with the thought that I can wear them for job interviews once we move.

Woo Hoo! New Toy!

Yippee! I love that I now have a way to post photos on my blog for free. (see below)

Now if only I could find the photos from last weekend's trip to SeaWorld San Diego. Then I could show that stupid whale that drenched me, leading to the crappy pseudo-cold I had last Sunday.

Since Jack can be quite bold at time, I thought it might be a good idea to find some supplies to make the trip easier on both of us. So I dragged the b/f to PetsMart this afternoon. Found a carrier that should work nicely. Also found some product called Calm Down, an herbal supplicant to keep him, shall we say, sedated. $10, but quite possibly worth every penny.

Okay. I thought it was about time that you saw Jack. This is the little butterball himself.

Something to Look Forward to

We took Jack out for a drive this morning.

He's always looking outside longingly and meowing when we leave. Plus, we'll be moving in roughly 3 weeks, so we thought it would be a good idea to log in some road miles with the kitty.

The verdict?

He hated. Heart-wrenching meows that sounded like an animal dying. When he wasn't hiding behind my legs or between the seat and the door, he was on my lap with his head buried under my arm. It's going to be a long, long drive.

Hmmm...I Don't Know How I feel About This

You are Rerun!


Which Peanuts Character are You?
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Sloop John B Day

Here's a sampling of my day to give you an idea of how it went.

Left alone to man the office, I have a guy come in pretty upset. He wants to speak to Employee #1 or #2. I explain that neither of them are in the office and offer to take a message. This would not do.

"What's #1's cell phone number?"

"I'm sorry. I can't give out that number."

"What?!?!?!?!" That can't be. Who do I call to get it?"

"I'm sorry. #1's the only one I can get permission from."

Angry mumbling. So being polite and trying to help, I offer...

"Let me try to catch #1 on #1's cell."

This was well received. So I call #1 who tells me,

"I don't deal with that. Talk to #3."

I should add that #1 was cranky that I called. So I tell the visitor this, informing him that I am allowed to give him #3's number. He's irate. He doesn't want to talk to #3. He's talked to #3. #3's no help. #3's useless. Blah, blah, blah. Whine, whine, whine.

"I'm sorry. #1 said #3 is the one you need to talk to."

So being the helpful person that I am, I take the initiative, calling #3, who doesn't answer, and leave a message.

"Well can't you call #2?"

Well with honeyed tones like that, how could I resist?

"Sure."

I pick up the phone, only to have 2 other lines flash with incoming calls. So I work my receptionist magic, and on busy days, it is magic. All the while directing the delivery guy who has now walked in.

When the phones and deliveries are taken care of, I return the task of calling #2 at which Mr. Attitude, in a tone more befitting a friend, says,

"Oh, I don't envy you. It's gotta be insane (as in busy) around here. Having to deal with all the people coming in. I don't know how you do it."

Imagine if you will, me sitting at my receptionist's desk, with a stunned, mental, "Oh my God." Followed immediately with a mental, "It'd be great if I didn't have to deal with jacka$$e$ like you."

I smile politely and start dialing. #2, much to my delight, doesn't answer so I leave a message.

Confident that I have done everything I can and more than this guy deserves, I offer to pass along his business card to #3 and to have #3 contact him. Handing me his card, he includes two coupons for business. Apparently he has recognized his a$$like behavior and is trying to make nice.

"Oh, thanks, but I don't need these. I'm moving out of the area shortly."

You are not my friend. You act like jerk and no amount of kindness is going to change the fact that you thought you were justified in trying to bully me. You failed now get out of my office. Go wait for your phone call and try to act more professional in the future.

Thank God my mouth filter was in full working order and the only things that got out of my mouth were the things in quotation marks. At least some of us know how to behave professionally.

GRRRR!!!!!!

Okay. I'm watching the presidential debate. Or at least I'm trying to. I'll admit that I get frustrated and turn the channel.

Bush just answered the question on what he would tell a person who just lost their job overseas. He went into improving education. Ewww, I'm piping mad. Not even going into my issues with his education policies, here's my quick venting with his "education" answer.

1. He stressed improving education for kids earlier in the school system it is "too late." Excuse me, but bulls***. I've volunteered in adult literacy. There is no "too late." It can be difficult for adult learners so early intervention is great, but if you look at adults and tell them it is "too late" you only perpetuate the problem.
2. Education does not guarantee a job. I have a B.A. from a prestigious private university and an M.S. that I obtained with a 4.0 and unanimous support of my professors for pursuing a doctorate. When I moved to California, I was unemployed for 5 months. I'm not even terribly picky. The problem is, I have to earn a respectable pay to cover the over $400 a month that I am paying in student loans each month. Education guarantees nothing.

Why I'm Not Ready for Motherhood

I consider our cat, Jack, to be me my barometer on my readiness for motherhood. Most mornings it's usually that I can't take his meowing when I leave. I feel so guilty for leaving him alone.

Sunday was a whole different animal. There was kitty vomit. Lots of it.

I rounded him up and put him in the bathroom until I knew the coast was clear while the b/f and I proceeded with the clean up. Nothing too painful. Twenty minutes later. Jack was back in my arms getting his tummy rubbed.

Monday morning, the boyfriend advises me on his way out to work (before I was even awake) to be careful where I step. Jack left surprises overnight.

Luckily, I didn't encounter any.

I get home from work later that day to discover that the cat knocked over the bathroom trashcan. The b/f came home soon after and told me what he found that morning. We put two and two together and discovered Jack was a poo eater. Granted, I would never let a child eat poo, but my "Ewww!" tolerance level isn't up to snuff for kids.

When Not to Shop at a Small Local Business

I'm all for shopping at local businesses, especially when my hometown is down to one grocery store. The next closest place to do grocery shopping is at a Super Wal-Mart in a town 30 minutes away (they have lost all their other grocers.)

One of the things that has helped this particular grocery store is their movie rental department, it too being the only place to rent a movie in town. So Tuesday morning my mom called in to reserve a copy of Michael Moore's Fahrenheit 9/11. When she later called to follow up on it, she found out that they weren't going to carry it, at all. Bear in mind, the movie didn't come to this small, Republican town's movie theaters either.

My mom, my brother, and myself are angry about this. They are all for boycotting this business because of management's decision not to give people an opportunity to decide for themselves whether to watch this movie. I'm encouraging my mom to write a letter to the editor of the local newspaper and to the owner. I think they need to feel it in their pocket to reconsider.

The toughest opponent my mom has in her boycott is my dad. He's a staunch supporter of local business. He refuses to shop elsewhere. So my mom informed him that Saturday when he goes to do the grocery store, he's going alone and without a list from her. He can "figure it out." I predict he spend a small fortune on crap they don't need.

A Surprise Ending

I dreamt last night that I was at work. Instead of my usual receptionist duties, I was out working with people resolving problems. As my day wound down, I started reflecting on the hit-and-miss of it, trying to decide what to blog about regarding it. When I woke up, I couldn't believe that the dream seemed so real that I was actually reflecting on blogging it like it had been a real day at work. Though oddly enough, I can't really remember many of details of the dream now itself.

Countdowns

I'm happy to report that Misc Karen has reached a milestone, its first 1000 hits. After my first few months of blogging, I thought it would take a few years to get a thousand hits. It's even more amazing considering how inconsistent I have been about blogging (more on that in a moment.) To all of my regular readers, I say "Thanks!" Especially to those of you who linked Misc Karen.

As for the blog, I've started drafting a few longer essays and have been thinking about tons of material to write about in general. Like the day last week that started with me getting pulled over for the first time (which fortunately ended with the officer realizing that he had pulled over the wrong vehicle) and ended with me being locked out of the apartment and missing the first debate as a result.

If i'm not actually writing much, it's because I'm thinking of another countdown, moving. The b/f's current project at work should be over at month's end which means we should be moving shortly thereafter. We are not exactly sure when and have no clue where we be going next. As a result, I need to give notice on my job with my last day being October 29th. Not know where (or when I will know where) we will be living next, I can't exactly start hunting for the next job. It took me 5 months to get my current job. I cannot afford another 5 months of unemployment and I really need a job with health benefits. And there are a litany of worries that I have about job hunting that I won't go into now because I wan't to be able to sleep tonight.

The other kicker is that I won't be able to vote as I don't know where I'll be living and will most likely be in the middle of moving cross country on election day. So those of you who can vote need to vote for those of us who can't.

So the end of October/beginning of November, I won't be blogging while I'm without internet access. On the bright side, all the free time and stress of unemployment should lead to some great blog entries.

And on a completely different tangent, my parting words for this entry are for my beloved Fighting Irish. If you fire Willingham you will never get a penny of donations from this alum.

The Circle of Safety

During my volunteer days, we volunteers had a required task every time we went to drive one of the non-profit's vehicle. We were to circle the vehicle, checking for children, animals, nearby obstacles if we needed to back up, and, of course, damages such as leaks or flat tires.

I was never very good about remembering this task. I got a lot better after I backed a car out and realized it had a flat.

I need to remember to start doing it again and I highly recommend that you start doing it too.

Yesterday morning was exceptionally dewy here. I got into the Blazer and used not only the front but the rear wiper too.

(Sidenote: Remember how I went to Pep Boys a week and a half ago? One repair I ordered myself. A new rear wiper blade as the old one was looking rather shabby.)

Back to my dewy Blazer. I noticed something odd as I looked into the rear view mirror. The wiper wasn't removing the dew. I got out to investigate. On the end of the wiper armature, there was nothing. No nice shiny new wiper blade. Excuse my language, but I was pissed.

Today, receipt in hand, I went back.

Turns out that, oops, they forgot to install it. So I now have a new rear wiper and a coupon for my next visit.

The Funniest Thing I've Seen All Day

	Crime doesn't pay ...unless it's called 'politics'

Billy's Weird...cat...thing tells your fortune!

Dinner Conversation

The boyfriend and I aren't ones for dinner conversation while dining out. Once the food comes out, the feedbag is on and there is no talking. I focus on the food while he is much more adept at eavesdropping on the conversation of neighboring diners. But Saturday night, there was one conversation that I caught a bit of an fell in love with.

A woman was tell her fellow diners about a female co-worker was in the habit of putting a napkin on her shirt when they would go out to lunch and how it was the only time her chest was ever covered. You have to love how catty some female co-workers can be.

A Sense That All Is Right in the World

It might seem simplistic, but I'm in a good mood due to 2 simple facts:

1) It only cost me $260 to get a buttload of work done on my vehicle.

2) ND 21, Michigan State 7 at the end of the half.

:( (:

I'm spending my day by the phone and they still haven't called about the Blazer. They said it would be an hour. It's been an hour. With my luck, they pulled it into the garage and major parts started falling off.

Oh wait. They just called. They have found 3 things that need repaired, the heater core, the thermostat, and the radiator cap, all to the tune of $260. I gave them my blessing. Then I call my dad because even though it seemed good, I know relatively little about vehicles (I learn more every time something breaks on one of mine) and there are few things I hate more than the thought of a mechanic screwing me over on auto repairs.

But my dad says it's all good. The heater core and radiator cap could have been causing a loss of water and the thermostat I had already been warned was most likely in need of repair. Plus, the price seems pretty reasonable.

So I am happy. Until the damn thing overheats again.

A Walk for the Blazer

Well, I drove my Blazer to PepBoys to get the radiator checked out and the oil changed. Actually, I went to set an appointment to have these things taken care of.

Well, it almost overheated on the way there, and it's not even a mile away. So when they said they could get it in almost immediately, I said "Sign me up." Problem was, it was going to taking roughly an hour, and that would only cover the diagnostic on the overheating problem. I can only spend so much time in a crappy waiting room, even with a good book. So I decided to hoof it home. Being out of shape, the walk made the distance seem so much longer than the drive.

Now I'm just biding my time waiting for the Pep to give me a call to tell me what the problem is, and more importantly, how much it is going to cost me.

Ahhhhh!

Imagine a contented sigh.

I walked outside this morning, laundry basket in my arms, and it was cool and overcast. Now I know it won't rain. It's only the marine layer, which I do appreciate for keeping the temps down. It's just not the same.

I think I prefer to sit outside this morning, close my eyes, and pretend it's a fall day out east. My first thought when I walked outside was that it was a perfect day for football. Maybe I could pretend I'm back on the Notre Dame campus and that the sound of wind in the trees is rustling leaves that have turned a variety of warm tones. I love fall. I hate fall in California.

For any of my readers in places that live in places that do have 4 seasons, do me a favor and spend some time outside enjoying the weather and read a good book.

I am happy to report that I am over my cold. It only took 3 weeks. But I no longer need to endure the unpleasantness of my sinuses draining, all day, every day.

I am not happy to report that the Blazer from hell is having issues. It's been running unusually warm despite the break in the heat. This culminated in it overheating on the 10 mile drive home from work. I had to pull over just 3 lights from home and let it cool off for 30 minutes before I could make it home. Even then it was acting tempermental and kept threatening to overheat again.

I do not relish taking it to a mechanic this weekend. I do not relish the thought of putting a new radiator on it when in 6 weeks, I will be unemployed again. Especially when I'll be moving in roughly 2 months, though I'm not certain when or where, thanks to waiting to hear where the b/f will be sent to work next. Does my b/f really expect me to drive this beat up SUV across the country again?

The one bright side is the chalupa of warmth. Last night, my b/f was all cute snuggled up in bed. When I tried to snuggle

Uncle

I give up. I'm never going to get through 1001 Arabian Nights. It just isn't going to happen. So last night, I downloaded My Man Jeeves by P.G. Wodehouse from Project Gutenberg. Lighter and shorter, plus I love the Bertie and Jeeves stories. And to think, I am bought one of his books on Saturday. Then I got to thinking and realized they were probably old enough to be in the public domain and therefore available on the Project Gutenberg website. So not only did I save $8, but I won't have to lug the book when I move this fall.

Though I did buy some books. The entire Lord of the Rings trilogy for only $8.60. I have wanted to read these books for ages, but as a former bookstore employee, I was too cheap to pay what they were asking. I knew there were eventually be remainder books left of all the editions published when the movies were released. My patience paid off.

My Boys in Blue

I am so, so happy. My Fighting Irish beat Michigan today. This is important to me for 3 reasons.

1. I'm a Notre Dame alum who is very loyal to her alma mater. It doesn't bother me too much when we lose because I like the team regardless of the record. I do like to see them perform to their potential however.
2. I really like Coach Willingham as opposed to former coach Bob Davie who always stuck me as being akin to a used cars salesman. I think Willingham has integrity and enhances that aspect of the ND football program. As such, I'd like to keep him around for as long as possible.
3. I really, really hate Michigan. This stems to my freshman year, 10 years ago (has it really been that long?) A bright eyed freshman, I went to the first home game, against Michigan. (Notre Dame games are amazing. Go if you get the chance.) ND was ranked #1 in the nation. The game was exciting. All was well. Then Michigan took the lead at the last moment and won. I have hated them ever since.

So congrats to the team, coaches, and students at Notre Dame. May the beer flow freely at the parties tonight.

Random Odds & Ends

The Misc Family is broken down. Dad is still recovering from knee surgery. Brother is having major back issues. Mom took a nasty spill at the grocery store landing hard on her side. Turns out her elbow is fine but her back and neck are all out of whack. And I am entering week #2 for the head cold that would not go away. Last night I was worried that it was moving into my chest, but luckily, it's stayed in my sinuses. Now that I've finished Harry Potter, I should be getting more sleep.

I'm starting to worry about finances again. My job ends at the end of October. The b/f's job will having him moving again in November, but we won't know when or where to until, well, until they decide to tell him, which I guess will be mid-October. It makes hunting for the next job a bit tricky.

This also leads me to my next question to ponder. Taking Misc Karen to the next level and making my own website like I had originally planned. I've got JenLyn offering to help me with the design. I've got a webhost I'm considering. I just don't know if I'm ready. Any advice from my regular readers would be greatly appreciated.

All Is Well in the World...Almost

Woo hoo! My dad is doing great. Surgery went off without a hitch. The procedure proved easier than anticipated and went very quick. He's already able to put weight on it.

As for me, well, I'm fighting what I believe to be a sinus infection. I blame Harry Potter. I've been knocking around a cold for a week. Last night, I got so caught up in the latest Harry Potter that I didn't get enough sleep. Woke up feeling fine, but soon realized that wasn't quite the case. The joy is, I don't have health insurance. Can you picture me smiling? I scrounged up what remained of an antibiotic prescription from December when I had bronchitis (when I get sick, I get bronchitis pretty easy, so nipping this in the bud is of the essence.) Hopefully this will take care of it. If you have any tips, please send them my way.

Best Wishes to My Dad

Hey everyone. If I could borrow a bit of goodwill, my dad is having knee surgery tomorrow. It should be fairly simple surgery, but hey, it's surgery and his knee has been killing him. If you think about, please send good wishes (or prayers if you're into that) for my dad.

In other news, no caffeine today and amazingly enough, no caffeine headache. I suspect it might be due to a potential sinus infection drawing all my attention. At least work went well today. Woo hoo!

Oh, make sure you catch some of the Republican National Convention. As always, it's good to engage in political dialogue.

Decaf Sucks

I started out my day with the traditional breakfast out with the b/f. We decided on the local IHOP and in an effort to be good, I ordered decaf coffee. Not the best decision I've ever made. I think I'll be drinking a lot of herbal tea. At least with the honey, I'll never notice that lack of caffeine.

Dark Days Ahead

Here's your warning, kiddies.

I'm giving up caffeine, again, after today because I already have a caffeine headache.

Why?

Because I know I drink too much of it and caffeine is bad for a person. But I tell myself that the crankiness should inspire some great blogging, if I can cope with the headaches.

My Favorite Thing About California

My b/f and I went to my favorite Mexican restaurant, ever. We've probably been there a half dozen times since we moved here. It's one of those great, small family run businesses. I always order the same entree, chile relleno and enchilada suiza. My mouth just waters thinking of it. I want to convince the owners to open locations in the Midwest because we need these kinds of authentic Mexican restaurants there.

Truth be told, there is one thing that makes this place my first choice for eating out. Guacamole. Fresh, made at your table in front of you, guacamole. Cutting open and scooping out a few avocados. Mashing them up with a knife and spoon. Adding tomato, onion, jalapenos, and I think cilantro (hmmm, cilantro, reminds me of their yummy salsa). No lime juice needed as the guacamole won't last long enough to go brown. We've finally learned that we can go and just order it for dinner and be full.

How good is this stuff? The past few days at work have been pretty crappy for me personally and I feel like today was a good day because we went to this place for this specialty.

Why I Love My Referrer Log

I'm No 1. According to Yahoo. If you do a search for "Misc Karen." This may not seem like much, but a few months ago, I wasn't No. 1. I'm also No. 9 and my weblog review is No. 10.

I decided to do a little checking.

On Google, I'm now No. 1, and the next 4 listings reference this blog. Oh, I'm also No.1 on MSN and AOL.

Wow, I'm making my own little notch on the web. Nice warm fuzzy felings.

Vegas: The Details

Saturday started early. Way too early, especially considering I was so excited the night before that I didn't fall asleep until 10 P.M. How early did our day start?

1:00 AM - Wake Up Call

Our alarm clocks went off simultaneously. Why so early? The b/f wanted to get to Vegas while it was still dark so we could see the lights of the city as we approached. Being somewhat sniffly and never a morning person, I slept the better part of the way.

5:30 AM - The Day Begins

We park at the Riviera and the gambling begins. I'm happy to say that when we left app. 45 minutes later, I was almost $20 up. I should have stopped then

We proceeded north, hitting the Aladdin (rather unimpressive) and continued on to the Stratosphere. It was during this time that I saw hookers for the first time (that I know of.) Three of them. Two older ones followed roughly 20 feet back by one that looked about 15, with her hand in her skirt scratching away. I turned to my b/f and told him that we would be taking a cab back instead of walking. Yeah. Didn't happen. On the walk back, we saw them again. This time there was no scratching.

We also hit Circus Circus and the Stardust, losing money all along the way.

10:00 AM - The Venetian

Okay, this was hands down my favorite casino/hotel of all the ones we went to. Gambled a little while. Got my first comp drink (water with lemon, as the rising heat was leaving me a little parched.) By noon, we had made our way to the canal shops on the second floor. I loved this area. Nice sky painted on the ceiling (though I secretly hoped that it had been done with lights so that way at night they could project a starry sky.) While not terribly authentic looking, it had the nice feel of an Italian square. Much to the b/f's dismay, we did the gondola ride. Everyone watches the gondolas and takes photos, so we felt like we were a bit on display. (Which has led to my theory that the ride was created for wives/girlfriends who want to show off that they are with someone willing to do it.) We even ended up on someone's wedding video. Oh, and I bought the $15 picture of us on our ride because I'm the kind of g/f who wants to show off to all her far away friends that she got her b/f to go on a gondola ride.

2:00 PM - The Buffet

Having pretty much gone through our gambling allotment, we decided to eat. So we hit the buffet at the Bellagio. Way too long of a line. Food wasn't worth what we paid since it was still the brunch buffet. Disgruntled, I decide to get a mimosa since it was free.

3:45 PM - The Walk, and Oh Yeah, the Blisters

We made the long walk from the Bellagio to the Riviera where our car was parked. It was hot, but since it was under a 100, it was rather cool weather for Vegas. Oh, did I mention that I wore sandals? Not my greatest moment. I ended up with 3 blisters. Also, we walked to hard that my shin splints started acting up. This is when I started getting really cranky.

5:30 PM - The Family Inn

We arrived at the Vegas home of one of my co-workers who was putting us up for the night. At this point though, the b/f was ready to make the drive back to southern California. I wasn't. I didn't think it was safe to drive that tired. So when we arrived, we had agreed that we would take a nap, hit the strip for the few last things we wanted to see, and then head home. The b/f wasn't terribly thrilled with this, and as such, didn't lay down until 7. At 8:30, when the alarm clock went off, he told me to reset it to 10:30. At 10:30, he told me to reset it to 3:30 (though he later claimed that he said 3) Sunday morning.

3:30 AM Sunday - Or, OMG I'm Up Again Early

We head back out for one last cruise of the strip because at this point we are too tired and cranky to do anything interesting. We finally find the Luxor's Pyramid and wonder how in the hell we missed it on the way in. Then we hop onto the 15 and head south. The b/f keeps asking if I'm going to stay awake this time because there were some really cool things I missed on the way up. I tell him that I will try my best and we'll see what happens.

4:30 AM - What Did He Expect?

I fall asleep.

7:00 AM - Just in the Nick

As always, I know when to wake up. This time it is for Sunday breakfast, a tradition for us now as it is the only day he usually doesn't have to work.

The Wrap-Up

I'm sure you can imagine how the rest of the day went. I slept a lot. So did the b/f, who did all the driving.

As for Vegas, it was great, but I could have lived without going and I could definitely live without going again. What can I say, my idea of good day is curling up with a good book. I do wish we had spent more time on the southern end of the strip as it had some really cool casinos that we didn't have time to go to. Of course, I might be overly sentimental about it when I go to pick up the pictures today.

Quick Hello

Hey gang. I just wanted to say a quick "Hi!" so no one worries about me being buried in the Nevada desert. I had a great time and promise a full accounting of the trip.

The Countdown Is On

Approximately 24 hours, I will be rolling in Vegas. Oh yeah, baby. I cannot wait. It has been a long, hard, busy week at work. I swear Monday lasted at least through Wednesday. The one thing that kept me going was knowing that I had a weekend getaway planned. And my co-workers rock. One is putting my b/f and I up in his guestroom so we don't have to pay the extortionary rates they charge at hotels on weekends. Another is hooking us up with some comps at the casino/hotel that he used to work out. Several others have been giving tips on where to go. I am giddy. Today is going to be the longest day ever.

Vegas Baby!

Okay gang. I'm going to Vegas this weekend. WOO HOO! The b/f has the weekend off and we're headed to Vegas baby. We have less than a week to plan our trip, so please send suggestions and advice my way ASAP. Think of it this way. The more interesting my weekend is, the more interesting my blogging about it will be.

Neener! Neener! Neeeeeeenerrrrrrrrrrrr!

Last night I was at Borders Bookstore with my boyfriend. I found a cookbook that I had been wanting for quite some time. I snatched it up and went to the checkout. The sales clerk asked me if I was a student because showing my student id would get me a 20% discount.

Now before I finish this story, there are a few things I should share with you.

1. I still carry my student id from when I was in graduate school because I hope to use it for discounts at museums.
2. My last job was at an independent bookstore. I have a pretty good idea of what they paid for the book. It's a lot less than the cover price.
3. In many ways, I share my dad's hatred of big corporations and favor small, local businesses when I can. This is vital coming from a small town because corporations can drain small town economies.
4. I generally avoid dishonesty and wrongdoing because I know it's going to come back and bite me in the ass.

My answer to question?

"Yes. But I'm from out-of-state, do I still qualify?"

"Yes. I just need you to fill out this form for the discount. Just name and school. Don't worry about the address. And sign it."

And that's what I did.

If I Were a Snob...

...I'd be a


You speak eloquently and have seemingly read every
book ever published. You are a fountain of
endless (sometimes useless) knowledge, and
never fail to impress at a party.
What people love: You can answer almost any
question people ask, and have thus been
nicknamed Jeeves.
What people hate: You constantly correct their
grammar and insult their paperbacks.


What Kind of Elitist Are You?
brought to you by Quizilla

Thanks to Folkbum who always finds diamonds in the rough over at Quizilla. He also found a great quiz for "Which modern day President are you?" I was only mildly traumatized when some unfortunate guessing led me to be labeled a Nixon.

An Interesting Trend

I am happy to report that there are more of you out there posting links to Misc Karen on your sites. Woo Hoo! Much thanks.

I've been checking out the sites of my referrers and I've noticed an interesting trend. Let's see if you spot it.

The Rant King, aka Kevin, will always be special to me as he was the first person to provide a link to this blog. It amazed me to think that someone other than my mom or my friend Jen (who has me linked on Nocturnal, see link to right) was reading my blog on a regular basis. If asked what I thought Kevin saw in Misc Karen, I'd guess the rabid sports fan noticed an entry I had on the NBA playoffs. I am also indebted to Kevin for introducing me to the hysterical site, Disturbing Search Requests.

Folkbum, aka Jay, is a Wisconsin blogger who amazes me. I wish I was as up on politics as he is. Not only do I share his love of politics, I'm also into education, as I have a degree in education too. I think he should be on the next TeamFranken.

Obz at Unsung linked me Friday, right before his review of Misc Karen came out Saturday morning. This Canadian has done more than anyone, with the possible exception of my parents, to increase my readership. How do I intend to thank him? I plan to "borrow" his idea, which he in turn borrowed from someone else, for a list of "100 Things About Me" for a future entry.

The newest blogger to link Misc Karen is Tara at Firty Kitty. Some words of caution to my mom, "Mom, Tara is a perfectly lovely woman, but I think you might be a bit uncomfortable reading her blog." Same goes for my mom's friends. Tara's blog is still on the new side (like mine isn't) but I can tell already that I like her sense of humor. The only flaw I can see so far is that she apparently lives in Michigan, a state that as a Notre Dame grad I am required to dislike.

Now did you spot the trend among all these bloggers? They are all northerners. This leads me to wonder if they somehow sensed my northern roots. Born in the northern Plains, my family migrated to a warmer climate when I was 2. Watching the movie Fargo is like listening to my extended family. The more excited I am when I talk, the more I sound like I grew up in Wisconsin. Get me in the right parts of Kentucky and you'll swear I sound like a native. I will have to reflect on what some of my more "northern" qualities might be, aside from knowing how to drive on snow which you can't really tell from a blog. Well, you kinda know now.

To Clean or Not to Clean: A Rationalization

I was driving home from work experiencing the warm, sunny California weather. Par for the course. As is occasionally the case, I didn't wear my contacts and as a result, I didn't have on my sunglasses.

Clean cars suck.

The glare is blinding.

Clean, shiny vehicles are road hazards.

My dirty, rusty Blazer blinds no one.

By not washing my Blazer, I'm performing a public service.

Yeah. Right.

No comment on the crack in the windshield.

Oh My God! Oh My God! Oh My God!

First off, I'd like to extend a welcome to those who are making their first visit thanks to the Weblog Review. Thanks for reading the review and following it up by checking out the blog. I hope you enjoy it.

To my regular readers, aka my parents and friends, if you wonder what I'm talking about, read this. You may need to scroll down a little bit.

Okay, now back to the purpose of this entry.

Oh My God! Oh My God! Oh My God!

The Weblog Review gave me a good review. (For those not familiar with the site, I had to submit my blog for them to review it. I did this roughly 2 months ago.) I've noticed that over the past few weeks someone over there was doing reading in prep for a review. I fought the urge to put up a post begging them to be gentle.

Instead, they gave me a 4 out of 5 stars. You can't imagine how excited I was when I read the review this morning, and I'm not a morning person. Then I got to thinking about it. 4 out of 5 would convert to roughly a very low B. Then I wasn't so happy. Then I thought about the 40 that I got on my first calculus test at ND and 4 stars rock. I like my 4 stars, each and every one of them. I love them equally and have no favorites.

And in one last closing thought, I think the reading of the review was made all the more special by the simultaneous event of eating ice cream sandwich #16.

Sad, Idiot Girl

Hopefully you've mosied on over to idiotgirls.com. It's listed over to the right. Laurie Notaro is one the few, and I include writers, actors, and comedians in that, who can make me laugh out loud. A co-worker and I were joking about red mice yesterday.

At the tale end of June, I e-mailed the gang over at idiotgirls.com to get the free membership packet for the idiot girls club. Imagine my delight when Laurie herself replied by thanking me for her interest, but explaining that she wouldn't be able to send it to me until she got back from her book tour that was starting soon. I replied that I completely understood, that I would wait patiently, and that I hoped the tour was a success.

Now I've checked in at idiotgirls.com every so often since. The book tour is over. It has been for a while. I still haven't seen nor heard anything from them since. And I've been itching to e-mail her about that packet. I bite my fingers though because both times I wrote to her, I felt the pressure to be extra funny to impress the comedy writer with my wit and humor without sounding like a brownnoser. Of course, there are those who read Misc Karen who would love to see me try to be "extra" funny and write with wit and humor. But since my mom, in her unbiased opinion, loves my writing as it is, it must be good.

Chicken Verdict

As someone who had really enjoyed the Subservient Chicken for 5 minutes, I had high hopes for the Subservient President website put out by the folks at moveon.org. However, my referencing of the link (see yesterday's entry) has apparently renewed the interest of usdoj.gov in my blog. So hello again to my old fan club. Stay tuned for future commentary on Al Franken's Lies and the Lying Liars Who Tell Them: A Fair and Balanced Look at the Right. For those who couldn't care less about the politics stuff, my current ice cream sandwich count is up to nine. For those who don't care about care about ice cream sandwiches, I'll post something more interesting another time.

More Potential than Chicken

I just stumbled onto the Subservient President. So far I haven't been able to get many commands that do anything, so if you find some, let me know. We'll see if this President is truly subservient.

Ice Cream Sandwich Update

Of the original count of 24, 16 ice cream sandwiches remain. The boyfriend has only had one. I will never live this down.

One of My Favorites Things

I love ice cream sandwiches.

My dear friend, Becky, would caution me to rethink that statement. "Do you really love ice cream sandwiches? Isn't that a bit a strong statement."

Yes, I really do love ice cream sandwiches. Just ask my boyfriend. I will eat at least 75% of any box of them that he brings home. I get teased endlessly about it. I don't care.

There is something so perfect about the ice cream sandwich. That "cookie" that's a little on the dry side but not really as it will stick to anything. That creamy ice cream that starts melting in a nanosecond. As a kid, I was always getting ice cream sandwiches from the concession stand at the public pool and having to lick circuits around the ice cream track to keep it from dripping all over. I have since mastered eating them more quickly. This probably happened around the time that I discovered the best thing about the ice cream sandwich is the moment you sink your teeth in to bite a piece off.

Just thinking about it makes me so glad that I bought a 24 count box of them today. My boyfriend is betting he'll only get 5 of them.

Got a Light?

It all started one evening last week.  There was a knock on the door.  When I answered it, my upstairs neighbor and her gaggle of greatgrandchildren greeted me.  It was one of these kids who dubbed me "mean old lady" for not sharing my Krispy Kremes.  I've heard her greatgrandmother yell and I think she needs to reevaluate her definition.

Back to the story.

They were at my door and in need of a flashlight.  Who am I to deny a greatgrandmother and her gaggle of greatgrandchildren a flashlight at night?  I produced a flashlight, it was used, and then it was returned ten minutes later.

Now I'm more of what you would call a homebody.  I like writing, surfing the internet, and reading.  None of these require going outside, especially during the hot California summer.  Aside from work, I can be consistently counted on to venture from the apartment to do laundry.  Want to guess what I hear every time I step out loaded down with a laundry basket or seeking mail?

"Hey lady!  Do you got a flashlight?"

Is it "mean, old lady" girl?  No.  It is her little brother, who likes to throw rocks at my front door and apparently play with flashlights in broad daylight.  My response, after perusing a yard full of broken toys, "No.  I don't usually carry a flashlight on me."  Yet the young lad is not deterred, for every time he sees me, he follows me, questioning me about my flashlight.  Here's our most recent exchange.

I struggled out the front door, lugging my laundry basket, trying to shut the door before my contraband kitty can escape.  I am greeted with, "Hey lady!  Do you got a flashlight?"

"No."

Not satisfied, the future Hans Blix follows me around the 4-plex to the laundry room off the garage, countering,

"But my grandma says you do."

"No, I don't.  Not anymore." I concluded as I shut the laundry room/

The moral of the story?

Lend your flashlight to a greatgrandmother and her gaggle of greatgrandchildren and you wind up with a 4-year-old stalker with a future in either investigative journalism or street hooliganism with a focus in rock throwing.

Really Bad Democrat

Okay.  Apparently I was a little off.  I was thinking that last week was the DNC.  Oops.  I should research these things a little better.  Oh how I have drifted from the days as a kid when I was awestruck by Ann Richards' refrence to George the Elder, "He can't help it.  He was born with a silver spoon in his mouth."

Bad Democrat: The Week in Review

Okay, I admit it.  I didn't practice what I preached this week.  The closest I got to following the Democratic convention was the 5 minutes of NPR's Morning Edition that I listened to that featured a blurb on a pizza place across the street from the big event that was forced to close due to security for the event.  They put up a huge pro-Bush sign.  It makes me wonder, if they had been able to stay open and had made a ton of money this week, would they be pro-Kerry?  

On the whole, I've become lazy as a voter.  I don't really care about politics too much at the moment.  It disappoints me because I used to be quite passionate about the election.  If you want to see me at my prime, read this.

In other news, my neighbors moved.  WOO HOO!  No more worrying about them taking over the garage we shared.  No more worrying about them reporting our cat.  The number of children playing right outside our apartment has dropped dramatically.  And I can't be certain, but I don't think I have to worry about my detergent getting stolen from the laundry room again.

My aunt made it through her surgery with flying colors.

I will never again have my mother reminding me to send her the vanilla that I bought for her in Mexico.

And on an ominous front for the blog, I bought a new SimCity game.  Hopefully, I'll be bored with it in a week and focusing on the blog again.

Okay, and I didn't technically know about this until today, so it's not really part of last week, but Nocturnal Elucidations now has a review on the Weblog Review.

No Login, No Job?

Thursday, I made a bold move.  I wrote my first personal e-mail at work, where computer policies are on the fairly strict side.  But this was for an old college roommate who I had told about the blog earlier in the week so I wanted to send her the address so she could take a looksie. 

As I clicked the send button in Gmail, a window popped up telling me there were problems connecting me to my local server.  I entered my login and password a few times to no.  I exited out of all my programs, logged off my computer and tried logging in again.  I was informed that my login had been locked out and that I needed to call an administrator.  Well, everyone's out east and the offices there have been closed an hour, so I call and leave a message.

Then I start to worry.

Did I get busted for a violation of computer policy?  So I start to think of everything and anything they may have hated.  There was the time I went to weather.com to see how ungodly hot it was going to get.  The handful of times I checked my e-mail on Gmail.  It didn't help that a co-worker had told me how at a previous employer, they revoked computer logins to notify employees that they were laid off.  I was not a happy camper.

It didn't help that people kept asking me to do things and I had to explain that I was locked out and couldn't do it.  What must they be thinking?  On the upside, with a co-worker out on vacation, this was the first calm I had experienced all week.  I coasted to the end of the day.

Thursday night, I consulted friends and family for reassurance.  Everyone agreed that I shouldn't lose a wink of sleep over it and find out in the morning what happened.  Oddly enough, that's what I did.

Friday morning, I started my computer and went to log in, hoping the problem had been resolved.  It hadn't.  I mustered my courage and dialed the computer help desk again.  They had no record of me calling the day before, but they did fix the problem.  Apparently when that window popped up during my Gmail session and I was trying to log in, well, the system recorded it as 3 failed attempts on my login and automatically locked the login as a precaution.

I am a happy camper again.

Except that I had to catch up on computer work.

Week's Goal

Over the weekend, I got a political e-mail over the weekend.  One of those forwards that makes bold comments and is light on the evidence, as in the sources for information.  I can't very well go after the sender of this e-mail for what I consider to be one of the great e-mail offenses, possibly even more annoying than spam.  If I do, I shall be flogged by my family.  Instead, I'll take my frustration on you.
 
Hopefully, you know my views on e-mail (if not, read the link over to the right), so I won't go into those again.  I will hop onto my soapbox for a moment regarding politics since this week is the Democratic Convention.
 
Discuss politics.  This is a good thing.  Even debate because no one should agree about everything, especially matters of government.  It is when there is disagreement that issues are further analyzed and debated.  This is a good thing.  No one likes a "yes" man, or woman.  Whatever your party affiliation, don't let it become a debate of Democrats vs. Republicans, or any other party combination for that matter.  Debate issues, not parties.  I say this with a caveat.  Do some research.  Heck, do this for yourself.  Be informed.  The following do NOT count as sources of research:  network news, local news, your spouse, friends or co-workers (unless any of them work for non-partisan think tanks), and a good deal of what's on the internet.  How do you do research then?  Chances are you'll get your inital bits of info from any on that list, just try to verify it elsewhere.  And when you get into a political discussion/debate, make it a discussion/debate.  Do not be a preacher.  Preachers do not listen, they preach.  If everyone in the conversation is preaching/persuading, no one is listening to each other and it's no longer a conversation, but a frustrating waste of hot air. 
 
So this week, let's get informed and start some discussions.
 

Blogger Remorse

We've all done it at one point or another.
 
We've said something we shouldn't have.  And I'm not just talking about times like a few weeks ago when I shared the insulting nicknames for a few superiors with a frequest visitor to the offiice without realizing that one of them was within earshot.  When I did realize, I turned even paler than usual.  I was told that my eyes got quite big as well.  This has proven to a funny experience to recall, though not nearly as funny as having told my co-workers about my dream in which I surrendered my cat to the Nazis.
 
I'm thinking of the T.M.I. comments.  The Too Much Information comments that shape people's perception of the speaker in a not so positive way.  Like when during my first week of work at my current job, a co-worker and I were discussing our lingering symptoms from recent bouts of the stomach flu and I brought up my lingering gassiness.
 
It was easy enough to establish boundaries in the beginning.  When I started this blog, I had a few rules, especially since I was encouraging friends and family to read my blog.

1. No "Momming" - aka talking about friends and family constantly while never talking about myself because no likes to be talked about that much and people won't get to know me if I'm always sharing stories about other people.
2. Try not to encourage stalkers.
3. (This rule is still under consideration.)  Would Laurie Notaro write about it?  If no, then it's definitely it's definitely an entry that I'll regret the morning after.

This brings me back to the TMI entries.  There are just that shouldn't be shared with the world, like the perfectly nice British chap who had an entry that started off discussing sitting at his computer naked eating potato chips.  I don't know how the entry ended because I stopped reading and haven't gone back.

For those considering writing a blog entry that goes into a great deal of personal information I offer the following bits of caution:

1. You may think you can edit/delete entries if you change your mind about an entry, but you can't change/erase the memories of those who read it.
2. What you think may be a glimpse into a side of you that your readers don't normally get to see might be the awkward first impression of a new visitor to your blog.

I'm Sorry. So Sorry.

I'm sorry that I haven't posted in a while.  I promise that I'll get a real entry in this weekend sometime.  I'm also working on adding a few more weeks.  Oh, and Blogger has added some great new features that I hope to explore this weekend.

The Humbling of Misc Karen

I have always maintained a "distant" relationship with my student loans. My "career" in retail made it impossible to make payments. However, with the advent of my new job, I am now able to make payments. With my most recent deferrment set to expire this summer, I was ready, in the nick of time, to make payments.

Last week, I received a notice for payment, and yesterday, for the first time, I mailed a check.

Today, I received an overdue notice. Ouch. I got on the phone and promptly began to pace around the apartment. Nothing causes me more stress than the thought of how I will be paying forever on my student loans. Whenever I talk to them I get all rambly and anxious. I was told I missed a June payment. I indicated that I didn't know about a June payment. I was asked if I wanted to talk to a supervisor. I said yes. I was then told that I actually did have to ask for one. This guy was basically itching to palm me off on someone. Grrrrr.

I then talked to the supervisor. Turned out that I was not as up to date with my address as I thought I was. (Though they did manage to track down my Cali address.) Well, I can't exactly get cranky when it's my fault.

So tomorrow I will be firing out another check. Thank goodness it's payday.

Stupid student loans.

If you hate my student loans as much as I do, e-mail me at misckaren@gmail.com to find out how you can help.

Recalling the 4th

Despite the prolonged hangover and illness from Friday night, yesterday ended pretty well.

We were stirred from our attempts to fall asleep (we are now early to bed people) by the sounds of fireworks. I suggested that it could have also been our neighbors making the loudest microwave popcorn I have ever heard. It wasn't.

We went out in the front yard in our scraggly pajamas to watch the city's fireworks display which was originating just two blocks north of our apartment. We could have sat on our couch watching through the front window with our cat.

!!!SENTIMENTAL FLASHBACK ALERT!!!

Whenever I see fireworks, I think back to when I was a kid and how every 4th we would go to the nearby lake to catch the display. We'd sit in lawnchairs and get eaten alive by mosqitoes while listening to the local easy listening station's musical contribution. Fireworks are truly the only time I can stand such sappy fare. In fact, I think it is required. That, or some Beach Boys.

So we watched the fireworks as they were framed by the palm trees across the street. And while I pined for my patriotic music, we, instead, enjoyed the chorus of car alarms that were triggered by the loud booms of the fireworks. With every particularly loud boom, we eagerly watched a pick-up parked across the street, as it's lights flickered, threatening to sound its alarm. My boyfriend was disappointed when the finale failed to trigger the truck's wails. I has no regrets and wish we could do it all again tonight.

Happy Belated 4th.

Thanks to all the troops, past and present. Don't forget the future ones in boot camp either.

Happy Birthday Bro!

Ahem.

Okay, I need to clarify a few things regarding my last post.

1) I do not think all Midwesterners are idiots. If I did, I'd be including myself because I consider myself a Midwesterner. Don't believe me? Read more of my blog. My co-workers tease me constantly for complaining how I wish I were back there. If I offended anyone with the post I'm sorry. Thanks to JenLynn for the call on this one. (Jen is a good friend with whom I blog on two other blogs, and I hope she's not too mad at me.)

2) Okay, I don't know who posted the guy's address in the comments, but in my mind that is a big party foul. Until I can find out how to delete that entry and not the other one posted, all comments are now hidden. Granted that gets rid of the handful of comments I had, but I'm not down with the address thing. Take that to Fark, not here.

And on a SPOILER note regarding Spiderman 2, what's the point of having a secret identity when it's no longer a secret.

As for future complaining, I promise to use my "I" statements.

Return of the Pretty Lady

I have been redeemed in the eyes of the neighborhood children, and all it took was letting my hair down, literally.

Ever since I grew my hair long while working in an environment that put me at a high risk for head lice, I've worn my long hair up. I now have a few additional reasons for doing this.

1) Despite what the folks at the Vidal Sassoon Advanced Hair Academy say about my hair being "strong," it is only stubborn. It generally refuses all styling, or at least the amount I can must in the morning. Loose buns prove much easier.

2) My hair is relatively thin. Thick luscious hair I will never know. It is part of the reason my hairstylist is always telling me to switch my part.

3) My hair is also very fine. On the few occasions on which I do style it, it very quickly falls flat. Plus a light breeze, let alone all the tossing and turning that I do in a night, leave it a tangled mess.

Plus, thanks to a recent sunburn on my part line, I've got a nasty peeling problem that looks like the worst case of dandruff known to mankind. My boyfriend likes to tease me about it in public.

Tonight, I let my hair down to let it finish drying before I went to bed. I went to check on a load of laundry in the dryer, and as I stepped out, I heard the words of an angelic pre-teen girl.

"You look pretty with your hair down. You should do it more often."

The first thought to cross my mind was, "Who was she talking to?"

The second was, "She's talking about me. I'm pretty."

Third thought, "Say something nice or you will soon be Rude Lady."

My witty reply, "Thanks."

I now confidently banish Mean, Old Lady and redub myself Pretty Lady.

$5 and Service After the Sale

It was one of my top priorities to wash my vehicle today. For those not familiar with it, I drive an early 90's model Blazer, thanks to my mom and dad.

I had not washed the Blazer since coming to California in January. It was beginning to looking like a moving pile of dirt with rust spots..

This morning as I pulled into the Sam's Club parking lot, I was amused to discover there was a car wash fundraiser going on. The guys with signs took one look at me and started waving their signs wildly at me. I laughed. Then I parked and went into Sam's.

As I walked out, I decided that I might as well let them wash the Blazer since I was planning on doing it anyway. I drove up to the line and paid $5. This was going to be a bargain I realized.

A swarm of 10-16 year old boys swarmed over the Blazer, and oh the things they said.

Mean things.

Nasty things.

Hurtful things.

I know the Blazer is no longer in its prime, but I've seen far worse on the road. After their first attempt, the grown up with the hose started rinsing it down then called them back. Apparently their arms were not as powerful as those smart mouths.

A few precious boys could be, "Come on, guys, let's give this lady a clean car."

Even the kids drying it off made fun of it.

It hurt.

I drove off thinking the bulk of the kids were brats not deserving of my $5.

By the time I met my boyfriend for lunch I was proud of my Blozer. It's a working vehichle that still has miles left in it. Just because it looks a little junkie, doesn't mean it's not a good vehicle. Besides, now it glistens in the sunlight, even the long meandering crack in the windshield.

The Street Where I Live

Mom, don't read this entry.

When I drove home from work, there were 2 police cars, an ambulance, and a fire truck parked at the end of the block.

On our way to my boyfriend's truck to go to dinner, he pointed out a crack pipe in the street (wow, this neighborhood is proving educational.)

On our way home, a woman stood smoking, waiting to cross the street with her baby in a stroller. Hmmmm, second hand smoke.

Mean Old Lady

Tuesday night I came home to the usual gaggle of kids in the front yard. These kids convince me on a daily basis that I do not have the patience.

Two kids played on my doorstep, moving aside as I juggled my keys, mail, and what was left of a box of Krispy Kreme donuts.

Child 1: "Hey lady! Who are those donuts for?"

Me: "Me."

Child 2: "Ah, she's just a mean, old lady."

As I told my boyfriend, "Let them get jobs and buy their own donuts."

I don't mind being called mean by these kids because I am, but for heaven's sake, I'm only 28. I am not old. Ronald Reagan was old, not me.

Mean, I wear that as a badge of honor. Any particularly good food stuff I come home with, I get asked for some. They congregate on my doorstep and outside the front window. The quality of my bathroom time has been diminshed by kids yelling outside my bathroom window, or breaking glass. While watching the last Matrix movie on dvd, we slightly opened the vertical blinds to let in some air. My boyfriend looked up to see at least 5 pairs of eyes watching through the window.

If I'm mean, it's because...

California is the most unbelievably litigious state in the union.

Maybe I watched too many Judge Judy episodes while unemployed, but people will sue over the dumbest things. Watch me get sued for breaking a kid's Atkins diet if I give him a Krispy Kreme. Or how about "letting" them watch the R-rated Matrix film? It doesn't matter that these kids have next to no supervision. Plus, I don't know these parents.

Go beg for donuts, bbq, xbox games, and movies from your parents.

If that's mean, then I'm proud to be mean.

Pa's Day

When I was in high school I decided to call my dad, "Pa," because it sounded so deliciously hick. Thankfully, some things fall out of fashion.

Today it's big kudos to Dad. Since I most likely won't be able to catch him on the phone due to time differences and the trip to Mexico that I have planned for today.

For the regular readers of Misc Karen, you owe this man some thanks. Since I moved to California, he has been strongest voice telling me to pursue writing. He's so encouraging he tells co-workers about this blog and gives them the address. Farmers all across the Midwest can check in and wonder what the hell I was thinking, thanks to my dad. If he thinks he's met someone who can help me crack into the field, he tells them what I'm up to, gives them the address, and sees if he can get us in touch with each other.

He's the reason I hesitate to cuss in my blog (but sometimes a good swear is the only thing that will do.)

(Also, Mom, I know that you recognize and support my writing too.)

My dad's support on this is pretty amazing, considering that for my first 5 months out here I was unemployed. I would be telling him about entry ideas and he'd be suggesting putting together a writing portfolio in the quest for one of my dream jobs, newspaper columnist. (Thanks to Jen too who has been awfully encouraging in this area.)

When I moved in with my boyfriend, I expected my dad to disown me. His response? "You're an adult and I trust your judgment."

My jaw still drops at that answer.

As much as I know my mom brags about, I know my dad does too. I just don't get to talk to his co-workers to have the word get back to me. I still know he does it.

For these reasons and so many more, I hope my dad has great Father's Day (I'll be bringing you something wonderfully tacky from Mexico, Dad. Think along the lines of the squeaky penguin I gave you for Christmas '97.)

As for any other father, stepfathers, grandfathers, foster fathers, and pa's reading today, I hope your day rocks too.

A Cry for Attention

I have been downgraded from a mollusk in the ecosystem to an insect, which for those playing along means that I have one less page linking to me. (Imagine me frowning because I refuse to resort to emoticons.)

I was pondering how to my boost my readership. Better entries would be a good start, but I was looking for something more gimmicky that required less effort on my part. While reading what people will do to get a Gmail account, it occurred to me. I have a Gmail account. I have something people want.

Gmail invites.

For the unitiated and computer illiterate, Google is beta testing their new e-mail, Gmail. (Since I use Blogger for my weblog and Blogger is owned by Google, Google has been giving randlom Blogger users the opportunity to get in on the free Gmail accounts.)

Guess who hit the jackpot?

I have been enjoying the 1 GB of storage for some time now. Plus it was great to get the address that I wanted, on the first try. Those who have accounts are eventually given two invites for others to join. Suddenly I was part of the in crowd. Reports began to circulate of people doing all kinds of things to get an invite to get a Gmail account. I was nice and gave my invites to friends whose hotmail accounts would always fill up and bounce back my e-mails. These friends foolishly wasted the invites and didn't sign up.

Now I have to more, and I've been pondering how to best bestow them. Then it occurred to me.

The words "free Gmail account invites" are bound to bring up my blog on someone's search. I'm seriously considering giving an invite to a reader. Though I really like this suggestion.

So if you want a Gmail account, let me know. This is NOT on a first come first serve. Anyone who thinks they can bully me into an account cannot even begin to compare to my brother when I was growing up. As for rudeness, I used to work in retail. I'll give it roughly a week and make a decision.

A Heartfelt Plea

Earlier this week, it was reported that at a baseball game (Texas Rangers I believe) that a man plowed over a 4 year-old boy in order to get to a fly ball that had landed in the stands.

I have seen the footage and it was quite sad. The boy was with his parents, and from what it looked like in the footage that I saw, the ball literally landed before their feet. Man sitting a few rows up and off to the side, leaps to his feet, practically diving to the family's seats, rudely shoving mother and son aside to get to the ball, which looked to have rolled under the mother's seat. He jumps back to his feet, the ball in his upraised arm, shoving the kid aside on his way back to his own seat. The picture of a the perfect jackass.

The fans booed, I am pleased to say. They even started a chant encouraging him to give to ball to the boy. The jerk remained in his seat, enjoying his drink, which I can only hope was beer and that his behavior could be attributed to alcohol and not his personality.

The family faired well. Players from both teams presented the boy with signed memorabilia. It was one of those moments that kind of redeems professional athletes. The family even got tickets to another game.

The jerk has yet to be identified.

As I watched the footage, one thing stood out to me. The jerk was accompanied by a woman who looked pissed and/or embarrassed by his behavior. I highly suspect it was his date. If the pair are not yet an item, I am convinced by the look on her face that they never will be.

However.

If jerk man and his companion are actually an item, I have one thing to say, "Dump him. I beg of you, kick him to the curb. And when you do, don't be nice about it. Tell him it's because a jerk and that you have a stadium that can back you up on this one and even more tv viewers."

Jerk's companion, if you are his wife, I'm sorry. I hope he's not like that all of the time. If he is, please share his offenses with the rest of us. If that man is your spouse, make him miserable until he gets his act together. I know wives shouldn't have to be mothers, but sometimes corrective measures are in order and I suspect therapy won't help jerk man.

If he is your brother, than I'm sorry I suggested that you guys were an item. I've been asked if my brother is my husband, so I know how icky that is. If he's your brother, did he bully you a look when you were kids? How did you handle it? Maybe we should compare notes. If he is your brother, then I would recommend getting the whole family in on his punishment. Does he grill a lot, because if he does, the Kingsford might be out of the question for Christmas if he'd actually use it. Maybe you could force him to watch a screening of Garfield.

British No More

My skin has never been exceptionally kind to me. As a small child, I proved to be the true progeny of the Mole King and Queen. Chickenpox ruined my 5th grade Christmas. Then there were the acne years. In one of truly rare happy skin coincidences of my life, my skin finally cleared up around the time I met my boyfriend.

I am of peaches and cream complexion, hold the peaches. To say I am pale is an understatement. A college classmate assessed the situation correctly when he deemed me pale enough to be British.

Yesterday I did something foolish.

I spent 5 hours in/around a pool in Southern California. The closest I look to British is that of a tourist. Crustacean is the more appropriate classification. Waterproof, sweatproof 45 SPF my ass (which is one of the few parts of me that remains pale.)

Last night I tried sleeping on my stomach, but the tops of my thighs were burned. Same for my back. And my shoulders. The combined effect being that there is no longer a position that I can sleep in comfortably. I am a tosser and turner. And every time I tossed and turned, it was agony. There's nothing like waking constantly in pain. Though waking up with the stomach flu was worse.

The only part of my back left unsinged is where my hair hung down, yesterday being one of the few occasions that I actually let my hair hang down. I'm beginning to see the appeal of hair hanging to the butt. I'd considerate it if the tangly nature of my stong (aka, stubborn) hair didn't make it entirely laughable.

Well, I best go try to find a position in which to lie in pain until my alarm clock goes off.

Things I've Learned This Weekend

1) As much as I loved the Garfield comic strip as a kid, some movies should never be made, and it doesn't matter how low your expectations are, they are sometimes too high.

2) Bath & Body Works has a really amazing sale going on right now.

3) Sometimes SPF 45 is not enough, even with repeated applications, especially when spending 5+ hours at the pool.

4) Bath & Body Works lotion, especially when it purchased for significantly less than usual, feels really good on bad sunburns.

You Never Write

But the spammers do.

That's correct, spammers are writing me. None of my regular readers has initiated correspondence with me at the spiffy new Gmail e-mail account in my sidebar. The only place I've got this address posted is here at Misc Karen. So while none of you take the time to write, the spammers have gleaned my e-mail address and spam is making its way the Gmail filters.

We have a situation.

Since I've started getting spam on my blog account, I have considered getting my revenge on some hapless spammer. If you've ever gotten an e-mail asking for your assistance, via the use of your bank account, to get money out of Nigeria for which you will given a portion of the bounty, you need to visit the gang at Scamorama. While I generally do not recommend opening spam let alone replying, I consider their shenanigans to be small victims, especially when they get money out of scam artists. Now that I've gotten my first Nigerian scam e-mail on this account, I think now might be the time to engage in my own Scamorama style correspondence.

This is where you come in.

Take a look at Scamorama site. Admire the pranksters handiwork. Then you can make it up to me. How?

Do what they did, and send me an e-mail (or post a comment.) Tell me what you think. Should I give it a try? Is it juvenile and overrated? Recommendations for the correspondence? I may have deleted that first e-mail, but there are certainly more to follow. Maybe you want me to scrap the idea and focus on other possible blog ideas such as the National Guard, snoring, or my very own Misc Karen mission statement.

One thing's for certain, anything is better than entries about coffee.

All Praise the Return of the Foofy La La

The foofy la la coffee supply has been replenished. I celebrated with a pot of chocolate raspberry. If foofy la la is the only coffee I can drink, then surely I'm not a grown up yet. Especially with the cream and sweetener.

Idiot Girls Rule (or They Soon Will)

I just finished the book Autobiography of a Fat Bride by Laurie Notaro. Laurie Notaro is the answer to all the really bad chic "lit" out there. I know. I would in a bookstore for quite some time.

It was there that I discovered The Idiot Girls' Action-Adventure Club. When I saw it, I knew I had to have it, and have it I did (and do.) Her books fall into the small category of books that I read passages from to whomever is around. My b/f has been subjected to several chapters and he doesn't get it though I did get him to laugh about "the chitlins experience" and he now references it when teasing me.

I could ramble on for pages, but I suggest that you check out the Idiot Girls for yourselves. Laurie's a trained professional who can explain it better than I.

As for all the gushing, hers are the kind of books that make me want to be a writer. If I should ever be published, I'd have to acknowledge her influence. She's funny without that sentimental, cutesy crap. Plus, I think she could do an amazing Ellen DeGeneres impersonation. Check the website out and buy some of the books. Not only will you enjoy them, but maybe my shameless plugging will get a mention on her site.

I Blame the Foofy La La

In the sixth grade, I was horrified to learn that one of my classmates had become an avid coffee drinker. At my last job, I would stare in amazement at co-workers who easily put down 2 pots a day.

My first day at my current job, one of my co-workers in the small office brewed a pot of chocolate raspberry flavored coffee. It smelled amazing, and with a little cream and sweetener, it made a very nice beverage. This "foofy la la" flavored coffee has proven my downfall, as I need at least one cup every morning when I go to work. I've even contemplated buying my own coffeemaker because I now crave it on the weekend.

The end has begun.

I Feel So Cool (But I'm Really Not)

I was checking out the latest messages in my Orkut communties when I noticed something that excited me in my Krispy Kremes community. I noticed that Emotion Eric is a member of the same community and was checking it out the same time I was.

For those of you not familiar with Emotion Eric, you need to visit his website. Spend some time taking it in. You'll be glad you did.

Anyway, back to my story. I click on his profile and it turns out that there are only 5 degrees of separation between the two of us. Five degrees between me and an internet icon. Cool.

What Feels Like the Day After the Movie

The b/f and I just got back from the film, The Day After Tomorrow, a film whose premise is that global warming leads to ecological disaster.

I must start with the pre-movie. I have a huge pet peeve about people being rude and unruly at movie theatres. Being from the Midwest, almost anything qualifies. Usually teenagers and the ever-annoying "tween" (even the term is annoying) get on my nerves by loudly talking pre-movie. But, you may ask, why complain when the movie hasn't started. Because me and my companion(s) speak quietly, allowing everyone else around to comfortably conduct their own quiet conversations.

Lately, the subject of my annoyance is the "complainer." At a recent outdoor concert, the annoyances merged in a trio of teens who had snide comments about everyone around them, including the performers. Tonight, it took the form of the twentysomething woman sitting next to me.

It started during "The Twenty." (For those who don't have "The Twenty" in their area, "The Twenty" is 20 minutes of slickly produced entertainment "news" programming that airs before the twenty minutes of trailers that airs before the movie.) She started with snide political comments during the spot on the new TNT drama about counter-terrorism. I found myself thinking, "Wow. I could actually have intellectually stimulating, ranting conversation about politics with this woman."

I contemplated making an affirming side remark completed with an imagined scenario of us having a pleasant, thought-provoking exchange. Then I had 2 other thoughts: 1) I'm not in the Midwest anymore. I can no longer strike up conversations with strangers. 2) She'll probably just be rude to me. So I kept quiet which proved to be a wise decision because...

1) She started complaining to her companion about how the two guys in front of us were taking an extra seat between them for their food and personal items, which only affirmed...

2) While she was saying many of the things I was thinking, I had the good sense and common sense to keep these thoughts to myself. No one wants to hear a bunch of whining when they go out for an evening of movie entertainment. That's what blogs are for.

Who knows, maybe tomorrow I'll actually get around to sharing my thoughts on the movie.

More Quizilla Filler

I generally try not to do too many of the Quizilla quizes, but I spotted this one and I knew I must take it.


You are the 1908 Metropolitan Map! One of the
first full maps of the underground, you are a
pioneer. You are a realist and geographically
accurate, with places of interest. Sit down
and have a cup of tea, love.


Which London Underground Map Are You?
brought to you by Quizilla

Not necessarily what I would have preferred, but fun nonetheless.

Oh, and I learned about the quiz at Watermark.

10 Minutes in My Head

Last night, as I was falling asleep, I was thinking of things I could use to play with the cat, who is having some issues and needs to burn a little more energy before I go to bed. For some reason, Play-Doh popped into my head.

The more I thought of it, the more I thought a cat would not enjoy Play-Doh because it couldn't do anything with it (not malleable enough.) Then I thought, "Maybe if it was thinned out a bit."

With a vision of goopy Play-Doh in my head, I was reminded of gooey plaster-of-Paris and making those great handprints in grade school.

From there, I flashbacked to getting a cast on my arm when I broke it the summer before 1st grade. That cheesecloth-like fabric dunked in runny plaster.

I was then reminded of paper-mache pinata construction, realizing that for roughly 6 weeks, my arm was a heavy-duty pinata.

Maybe the path wasn't pretty, but the trip was fun.

I really am like this. My boyfriend can even verify that my stories often turn out like this. My political conversations with my mom often take journeys like this train of thought did.

Tonight's Safety Lesson

If you should spot a cat on the floor, getting ready to play with a plastic bag, do not sneak up on it in a crouching position with the intent of picking it up. I tried. The results, albeit humorous, were not pleasant.

The cat jumped. Unfortunately, I was pretty stealth and my face was about 4-5 inches above said cat. Far enough for him to build some speed, close enough to feel the full force. He hit me in the face making contact from nose to chin. My nose is still tender and my buckteeth ache. Tylenol has been consumed.

The cat clawed. My arm has a little momento.

The cat is already napping. He is little concerned about the incident.

I am fuming, both at him and my own stupidity. Next time, I will startle him from a distance.

I now know I need to step up the posting when the USDOJ only checks in weekly instead of daily. I need to step up my game like the Minnesota Timberwolves.

I've been a bit torn about the NBA playoff series between the LA Lakers and the Timberwolves. Not that it matters terribly much to me either way.

My mom grew up in Minnesota, and as a result cheered for the Lakers because they originally were based out of Minnesota. As a result, I grew up cheering for the Lakers. I now wonder if my mom is torn on what team to cheer for. I tend to want the Timberwolves to win because...

1) Minnesota hasn't had a championship since the '91 World Series.

2) Everyone loves and underdog and I think it's safe to say that they are the underdog.

3) I am really, really, really tired about hearing the local obsession. If the Lakers lose, the Lakers fans go away and I can move before the next season starts.

That being so, go Timberwolves!