where i work.

I took some pictures of my work. My office is depressing. My mailman I think has a terminal illness. And yesterday, I saw my very first white supremicist in the flesh. Ugly & scary, two of my least favorite things.

MY WORK		By:Yours Truly

the only person i have seen all day is the mailman

i kid you not. i guess i sorta saw bill this morning, but we both know nothing before 9 in the morning counts as human interaction. especially when the coffeemaker is broken. i am _literally_ _dying_ of _boredom_. Seriously, why are underscores so much more awesome than underlines? i tried to make you all a crossword puzzle, but i couldn't figure out how to make one that could easily be filled in online. suck. i suspect i will be co-workerless for some time. someone please come up with a project for me.

oh, woe

I just finished rereading my blog-posts of what I was doing this time last year (backpacking through Europe). Indeed, one year ago yesterday Bill & I began our exciting journey, starting with a Parisian visit with our friend Ryan and his Austrian frau(lein? jenni, doesn't it make it sound like they are married if I simply say 'frau'? I don't mean to imply that, but I don't want to be sexist in German, of all things! Probably I could simply avoid the issue entirely if I knew the German for girlfriend or something. But I don't.) Anyway, I am a little bit sad about what my life amounts to now vs. this time last year. And I am even sadder because I have no plans, long term or otherwise, to return to foreign shores. I know that my next big adventure will have to be either Latin America, or the Pacific i.e. Australasia. And I have my Los Angeles move to plan, which is moderately fun but not nearly as enjoyable as planning international travel. And, even sadder, I realize that mathematically, traveling in Europe will actually be cheaper than living in Los Angeles! Boo.

oooooooh

Yesterday, Bill and I ventured to far far away Lawrence to see Peaches! We also had the pleasure of seeing the Eagles of Death Metal, which did not sound so much like death metal, but classic rock. I guess I'm not really sure which is which. We had the extreme displeasure of seeing Ssion, possibly the worst band ever. Seriously, the worst band ever. There were costume-changes, a naked girl, and floor-writhing, which one would think would distract from the horrible craptasticness of the band, but, you would be wrong. In this case, the copious use of nipples served to only exacerbate the truly wretchedness of the music.
Anyway, Peaches was pretty much the best ever; even Bill couldn't stop talking about her awesomeness, which he swears was unrelated to the amount of nudity on stage. The local scenesters came out in full regalia, made all the more impressive by the fact that the club was unairconditioned and quite probably hotter than hell. Slouchy boots, Kansas, July! Far more appropriately dressed were those that came in their best Peaches costumes, hot pants and bustiers!

sottotitolo

Sometimes, when I watch a movie in a language I vaguely understand (ie the romance languages), I think the fact that I can generally make out where one word ends and the next begins means I don't have to pay attention to the subtitles. This is generally wrong.

ohfunboringnessblah.

I know I need to update my blog, because it feels like time, and I just have no excuse.

I have been doing a lot of entertaining at my lovely Roeland Park abode, and my futon, I can now report, has been slept on by multiple people. Having visitors is way funner than not, since it means drinking more and eating out, two oft-forgotten pleasures. Also, good company!

In other news, I completed two books in as many days (though one I had been working on for a while). First, The Devil Wears Prada, which blew. A lot of you are probably like, what, ruth, could you have been thinking? Well, I'll tell you what I was thinking. I was thinking that Bridget Jones's Diary is hysterical, and it's summer, and one can only keep up this cultural elitism in 100 degree heat for so long. I also thought that since my coworker wanted me to read it, I had to. Now, reading DWP was worse than the Da Vinci Code fiasco, where I also succumbed to pressure, not only from friends, but also my internal "i am such an effing snob that i can't deign to read this bestselling novel" barometer.

Actually, there was nothing fiasco-worthy about the Da Vinci Code. I found it acceptably enjoyable, and it allowed me to rather snobbishly relive my French and Italian travels.

The DWP, though, was unpardonably awful and truly stupid. My mother has been pressuring me to go see the movie with her, which I may consider doing but only because I love air conditioning and popcorn. But before I do that, well, I need to watch La Dolce Vita which I received by mail yesterday. And then probably hear about why Fellini isn't all he's cracked up to be from my smarty-pants boyfriend, who is kinda famous now.

Sincerely yours,

Ms. Snotty-pants

P.S. The other book I finished was not the Da Vinci Code, which I read after it had only been on the best seller list for a year or so. So like, 2004 maybe. Anyway, I read Peter Orner's new book, The Second Coming of Mavala Shikongo, which I found moderately excellent. In any case, here's hoping Orner can parlay the Brangelina-Namibia craze into bestsellerhood, as his book is set in Namibia.

Show me yours.

I've heard from several friends about how they find my 'desk' picture fascinating, since you never get to see where your friends actually work. Because of this, and because of my embarrassingly dull previous blog entry, I have decided to share this with you. To the right of what's pictured is a virtually identical desk, where sits my computer and thus me. If I look to the left, well, right now, that is exactly what I see.
So let's dialogue on this point. Where do we pass the bulk of our days? How about a little office voyeurism?

oldness

sometimes, when i check my email first thing in the morning at work, i am sad about how i send emails to my friends and vice-versa before 10 in the morning. I remember back in the day when an email sent before 10 would trigger 'what are you doing up so early?' and was misty-eyed about it.
the saddest part is, due to proximity to my work and general indifference to personal hygiene, i probably get up wayy later than many of you. i am worried both of these things will have to change in LA, and then i will become part of the crowd who wakes up in the sixes.

For those that have wondered what my boyfriend looks like...

well, it sure isn't this!
anyway, we have haircuts.
bill may be mad because he turns 25 on Friday!

Goodbye, Koen.

Koen, my mom's exchange student, left us today. Back to Belgium. To a continent with no Chipotles. *sniff*

Finally, a British invasion worth its salt!!!

Topshop comes to Manhattan!!!

Maybe I've had too much coffee this morning, but I am quivering with excitement about this news.

Please, retail gods, tell me that Los Angeles is next.

Cranky Grr.

"Ruth, you're so well-traveled. Where would you stay, the Best Western or the Holiday Inn?"


I hate people. And interacting.

Either bring me Oreos or go away.

Nothing could possibly make me happy besides transfat today.

Bullets

Things that are cool:

• Car radios.
• Sangria.
• Sleep.
• Stuff that grows.
• Skype.
  

Things that are not cool:

• Hangovers.
• Sticky countertops.
  
• Plagiarism.
  
• Broken can openers and exploding tuna fish.
  

Kansas! Cows!

Sometimes I like to think Kansas City is a cosmopolitan city and that we Kansans don't deserve the hard time given to us by the rest of the world. Other times, there are cows at my bank parking lot, for the neighboring suburb's annual cattle drive.

My new camera, my first tomato

Summertime

OK, I am happy that it is summer, but these longer days are reminding me of how little I have to do. It was one thing thing spend whole evenings doing nothing when it was dark out, but quite another to spend whole evenings doing nothing when it's sunny.
I have developed a few new hobbies, namely, growing stuff. I have some pots now in which things grow! Namely, tomatoes! Chives! Basil! Cilantro! The chives and cilantro I am bravely growing from seed (organic seed to boot!) and seem to be doing well, particularly the cilantro. And my tomato plants have produced, thus far, two teenytiny tomatoes! They are green and look extremely untasty, but, we will wait and see! Because that's what gardening is all about! I love my plants, but so far, they seem fairly self-sufficient (except that one purple basil plant that died instantly *sigh* there is a lot of heartbreak associated with growing stuff). So, not much to do there... And I did order my camera, but FedEx says I can't have it until Thursday!!!
Instead, I need a fun-plan. I think that I should have a visitor. No one has slept on our futon, except my jerk boyfriend when he left me to die with the flu in our bed. That's sad, because we've lived in our apartment since December 31st!
If I had a visitor, I would take care of you like my two tomato plants, or my cilantro. Whichever you prefer. Also, like the sweet basil, but not like the purple basil, which died. And you would entertain me more than the chives, who have done shit!
We could go to a baseball game, which will probably be disappointing, but only if we root for the Royals. I will, but you don't have to. No one else does. And I guarantee you, it's a lot cheaper to go see the Royals than to see your local team. $5 buys a whole section these days!
We could look at fountains, of which there are tons! You may recognize some of them from your travels in Seville or Rome.
I will take you to some of my favorite places, like 91st & Metcalf, where there is a Chipotle, TJ Maxx and Marshalls! Sure, you can probably do that at home, but where have you seen a TJ Maxx & Marshalls across the street from each other before!
I can also take you to my favorite barbeque place, the Bob-Be-Que! It's delicious. Of course, if you don't eat meat, we can go somewhere else! Kansas City has tons of delicious vegetarian fare, now that Burger King offers a veggie burger, anyway.
In short, you should come to visit me in Kansas City, before I flee in August. I am a really awesome hostess. We can have basil and tomatoes from my garden, with the finest mozzeralla available...

Digital Camera Envy etc

Dear friends who know SO MUCH STUFF!
I am in the market for a digital camera. I have more or less narrowed it down to these three choices, although I reserve the right to add to this list at any given point.
I am fairly settled on the superzoom, as I think I would enjoy its capabilities. However, I am open to arguments about why I should get something smaller & with less zoom. I am, however, settled on not getting an SLR.
Here are the major differences, as I see them.

• The Panasonic Lumix has a hot shoe, which could be very exciting. The model I am looking out has been replaced with a less positively reviewed model, which means the one I am interested in is cheaper, but also, older.
  
• The Fujifilm Finepix does not have stabilization, which is bad. It's the cheapest of the bunch, though only slightly.
  
• The Canon S2 IS is a Canon, which makes me like it a little bit more than the others. Features-wise, it's in-between the other two, but does have 12x optical zoom as opposed to 10x. I'm not sure how much difference I think that would make to me.
  

I am also open to suggestions of similar cameras. I didn't see any Nikons or Olympuses that particularly impressed me, but again, I'm open. I invite your commentary and advice. Indeed, I beg for it.

Indecisively yours,
Ruth

Oh, boo hiss.

Fuck you, Blue Cross Blue Shield of Kansas City and my $32.20 birth control. I'll show you where the money is when I stop taking it and you pay for my thousands of dollars pregnancy. I hate you, the man.

Ugh.

This article is insanely stupid. It's written like an undergraduate application essay. I can't believe that trite twit gets to have a book and write for the New York Times.

As I've mentioned in previous posts, I have a massive crush on my library. This concept of finding books & movies online, placing holds, then getting an email a few days later announcing their arrival to my particular branch is absolutely brilliant. Of course, there is something to be said for browsing, but the convenience of this online business really trumps all.
That said, there are dangers to library use vs. simply buying online.
I have a variety of books & movies on hold. Some are fine literature and foreign films, others are self-help books and horror flicks. Usually, the holds that come in are a mix, which, I feel, speaks to my eclecticness and lack of artifice.
However, Friday I came in to collect several holds: What color is your parachute?; Refuse to choose! : a revolutionary program for doing everything that you love; Jobs for English majors and other smart people; Do what you love, the money will follow : discovering your right livelihood; Saw. OK. I've mentioned in previous posts that I am uncertain as to what to do with my life, and, as for the self-help genre, I found Suze Orman's Young Fabulous & Broke to be rather helpful, and two books on law school & lawyerness convinced me that I should never take that path...
So. I had hoped to collect these books rather anonymously. There is one librarian under 40 in my local library, a cute blond girl probably in her late 20s. She, plus one of the octogenarians, were at the checkout counter. I kept my fingers crossed (literally) that hipster girl would not be my checkout girl.
Alas, she was. So, I present my card, she scans, makes a face. Says "is your dad a teacher?" I confirm, she says "what's his name?" (Note: I feel her obligation would be to say something to the effect here of: "is he mr. yourlastname?" or "does he teach at blank?" or "does he teach orchestra?" rather than asking his name, but whatever). Anyway, she confirmed that he was her teacher, she recalls me as a smaller girl, etc, etc. Then she gives me my books and I am forever embarassed.
Incidentally, I haven't looked at my self-help books yet (being too involved with literary fiction (Our kind : a novel by Kate Walbert, my new issue of Bust magazine, and ok, the Gilmore Girls), but my roommate, Julie (yes, I am outing you too) has looked through Parachute & one other, and confirms that Parachute is a christian book! Jeez.

high school

Well, I spent a significant portion of my past weekend at my high school alma mater, supporting my small brothers in various activities. Some commentary:

• Those bitches have more expensive jeans than me, and fancier hair too. I consoled myself with the fact that they no doubt can't use a semi-colon to save their life.
• I tried to take comfort in the fact that I can hold my liquor better, but then realized that honestly, my tolerance has never surpassed my 12th grade drinking abilities.
• I also tried to take comfort in the fact I was definitely cooler than them, and contemplated pointing out that I was 'rude' when they were toddlers, and listened to Belle & Sebastian when they were rocking out to Raffi. Then I wondered if Belle & Sebastian are still cool, and started feeling bad about what little attention I pay to new music.
• I saw a tween in a Killers shirt this weekend. I bought a Killers CD a few months ago. I can't say I've succeeded in getting into it. I know that some of my cooler friends like them a lot, so I am still trying. But given the choice of NPR or the Killers, I'll take NPR.
• I also saw several kids in Grateful Dead/DMB/Phish shirts & cargo shorts from Abercrombie. I took a great deal of comfort in their existence, because in high school I scorned them, and it appears they are filling the same purpose as before, so I scorned again.
• Of course, I did all this from the awkward vantage point of adult sibling, which was a little embarassing, particularly at the battle of the bands, where both of my brothers's competed.
• For instance, there were beach balls bouncing around. I really wasn't sure whether or not I should ensure that they continue to bop around, or if I should just let them fall when they approached me. Usually I hit them, but went to no great lengths to do so. I considered this to be 'nonchalant.'
• I am a firm believer in dancing at live music performances. However, I didn't want to attract undue attention, so settled for head bopping towards the back.
• Also, on my brothers' bands. Littlest brother plays ska. He's 16. I think I outgrew ska completely by then. I do remember driving to ska shows, but I also remember seeing Dub Narcotic that year, so 16 was clearly an age of musical transition for me. Bigger brother plays, like, frat boy funk-blues. Yikes.
• I can't believe those girls all had on more expensive jeans than me. Maybe I'm not prioritizing my spending properly.

See you next Tuesday.

I have been saying and writing that all day. Now I am embarassed, because, as we all know, C U Next Tuesday means cunt. But we are having a workshop... next tuesday, so I keep repeating that. Whoops. I am so vulgar. It would be awesome if I could just say, "Thanks for registering, c.u.n.t." instead. That would be hysterical.
In any case, I can't find any information on protests today in Kansas City. I would like to lend my support to the immigrant community. I am pretty disgusted with much of the commentary coming out of the immigration debates. The nastiness of really, the majority, is just so troubling.

Fulfillment

Well, my vileboss is gone 4eva, and my work life is both satisfying and busy. So, I am disinterested in updating on a regular basis, much like the people who make up the Js of my 'friends list.' What is with you, middle section?
I have no antics of evil to describe, nor have I done anything remotely exciting in the last few weeks. My grandfather has been in town and his hearing isn't the greatest, so I have done lots of yelling, which, ordinarily forms a part of 'excitement' but does not in this case.
The news, usually bloggably-rich, seems dull. Whereas I used to fill hours of my day reading various newspapers, now, a quick skim of the nytimes front page & most emailed sates me. And I haven't seen a movie worth commenting on in ages (although I do have both a streetcar named desire and the taste of others at home lined up for this weekend), though I have begun watching the first season of Arrested Development & Grey's Anatomy. As the one episode I watched previously suggested, Arrested Development is 4X funnier than everyone said. Buster, I love you.
And Grey's Anatomy, while enjoyable, is a hospital drama which is toxic for me as I tend to cry each and every time someone dies, could die, or talks about dying. So, kinda high-risk behavior for me.
I suppose the biggest news is that I paid my outstanding library fine from high school ($44.50--not bad!) and am now able to use the library again. And I tell you, I love the library! Indeed, it is they who have supplied me with the first season of Arrested Development & A Streetcar Named Desire, as well as assorted other works of fiction and law school-focused books. I just finished "A woman's guide to law school' which has partially convinced me that law school is for chumps and i would rather die than be a lawyer. Now I am taking a break with Zadie Smith's Autograph Man, which 25 pages in (which is probably 5%), seems that it will be acceptably engrossing but not as enjoyable as White Teeth. Anyway, I am pretty excited to be restored to the good graces of my library.

While I doubt that anyone actually reads my blog with the mind to keep up on the banalities of my life, I nevertheless feel compelled to update about them from time to time.

• The executive board unceremoniously told my boss that her resignation would be effective Monday (that's two days past now), not the end of April as previously planned. Such elation.
• Except, unfortunately, I spent Monday and much of the weekend ravaged by influenza. I have since recovered, but the experience was extremely unpretty. Conversely, I think it may have been slenderizing, so all was not lost.
• Yesterday, I became an advanced user of Microsoft Access under the tutelage of an extremely dull man. I have since managed to completely fuck up our work databases in ways that I had previously never even dreamed.
• I have begun to prepare to take the LSAT.
• Unsurprisingly, in light of the above announcement, I have continued to talk myself out of tattooing and have made no moves to ink umbrellas or any other water-repellent on my body.
• I ate a cookie that has been sitting in the "kitchen" of my work since Friday. It wasn't bad.

Oh, pretty please, die

My fuckwit boss just set a fire in our microwave. Apparently, she doesn't bother with the timer feature and just cranks it all the way up. You know those fancy-schmancy organic veggie dishes? Amy's, I believe? Yeah, toxic when microwaved past the recommended guidelines. My boss, being responsible for absolutely nothing, used the opportunity to complain about the lack of adequate fire alarms in our building. Then you know, she went in her office and shut the door, leaving me to enhale the no doubt deadly fumes.
As many of you know, my vileboss has resigned and will cease tormenting me with her thoughtlessness, extremely poor social skills and rampant neuroses in a few (not nearly few enough) weeks. I can't wait. Because otherwise, die.

Suck it, French Youth

Looks like you lost the battle against precariousness. "Contre la précarité!" if you must, and surely you must.
Too bad about that. I wish I could say I was sad for you, but it's hard to have sympathy for those who get to eat more creme fraiche than me (and American creme fraiche is quite poor and awfully expensive anyway), smoke more cigarettes, and effortlessly weigh less.
But that's fine, because it looks like your waistlines are expanding since you have the most McDonalds per capita outside of the US and now you'll have to work hard to keep your lousy french jobs with your excessive vacations. You'll probably become stressed and end up eating massive quantities of cheap chocolate at your desk, which will just exacerbate your growing girths. Bummer, french youth, I really want to feel for you, but I'm not sure if it's jealousy or animosity that keeps me from doing so.
In any case, we've suspected you're worthless for a long time, so, let's see if you can cut it in the real world (ie the american one).

I cannot live without positive reinforcement

Hence, a poll! Wheeee.

My once and future tattoo

For those of you that have had the "what tattoo would you get?" conversation with me, you know that my answer has been, for that last 4 years at least, a tattoo of an umbrella (although for like, two weeks, I desperately wanted that tiger (or maybe lion) tattoo that is on the cover of a push kings album). A delinquent friend of mine once even promised to draw it for me, so I could get it. Why an umbrella? No reason, except perhaps that I like Mary Poppins and used to love Magritte. But still, Magritte is cool and umbrellas are the best. I never did get my tattoo, in part because my mom threatened to revoke college funding if I did get a tattoo (ha! joke's on me, because those loans were in my name, weren't they?), and in part, because, well, I'm not tattoo cool. Yeah, I am not the biggest of flipping losers, but I am definitely not cool enough that I ever listen to music at top volume, unless I am trying to demonstrate that I am, in fact, mad enough to listen to music so loud it hurts. And yeah, I can tolerate a bit of the punk music from time to time, but let's be honest. I would rather listen to Dolly Parton than the Sex Pistols. And yes, I do like a number of Kill Rock Stars & K Records bands that might be labeled as punk, but, well, I don't think that buys me any tattooed-hard-ass cred, although I am fairly sure tattooed hard asses don't get umbrellas inked into their flesh.
But, I think it's time. I really think I might be ready to cross the line into becoming a tattooed person. The following are nice umbrella prototypes, and I would like your opinion. I am pretty sure I just want a black outline with the 'seams' inked in, if that makes sense, although I have not 100% ruled out the use of color. Also, let it be known that I will not be adding raindrops or anything of the kind to my umbrella tattoo. Just an umbrella for me, thanks.
Also, I am pretty sure it will be diagonal on my left shoulder, with the hooked handle pointing up. I have also contemplated getting a flipping huge one that stretches across my back, like a thunderbird, but well, I will never be that badass.
Umbrella 1:

Umbrella 2:

Umbrella 3:

Umbrella 4:

Humiliated again

OK, it is bad enough that the US has elected Bush to the presidency twice, that our states continue to battle evolution, that crazy South Dakota has banned abortion, that DeLay won his stinking primary, that most Americans still think there are WMD in Iraq & that Crash won the Acadamy award. These things are humiliating. The US news section in international papers looks like the Onion or some similar mockumentary, but most shocking(!!!!): "US knocked out at World Classic."
America's pasttime? What? How can this be! I understand that similar anguish was felt during the Olympics, dream team etc & no doubt followers of Quad Rugby experienced similar devastation. But losing in our most bestest coolest sport, advancing countries with a total population less than the number of American baseball movies, this is truly humiliating.

Keeping up

Well, after all these pedophilia/myspace stories, I decided it was time to join. While doing so, though, I realized that I am no longer attractive to pedophiles, and indeed, have not been for some time. Bummer.
But really, how many of these silly networking sites is a person required to join? And myspace is really really ugly. Not mine, mine is boring, but some people's, dare I say most people's, myspace is hideous. I spent an hour or so (while watching the gilmore girls & eating popcorn, granted) finding the same friends I am already connected with on friendster & facebook or both(!) and adding them. Many of whom are using the same photos & text! It's exasperating!
On the plus side, it's no great inconvenience and does create a new time waster for work. So come on, be my myspace friend too. I feel like a big dork with only a few friends...

Los Angeles

So, my clever boyfriend has been admitted to UCLA. This is pretty exciting because it means I can focus my life planning a bit more than before, though there are still pending applications and financial aid etc etc so the move to LA is not certain by any means.
However, I now can apartment hunt in LA with greater dedication than before, but the problem with LA is the connotations. I mean, the utter horror when the 90210 or clueless crowd had to go to 'the valley' for some sort of party. So obviously, we don't want to live in 'the valley' but what valley could they mean? Simi, san fernando, sun, there are at least half a dozen areas called 'something valley' around Los Angeles, and who knows which valley (or all valleys) is so undesirable?
And then, of course Malibu and Venice Beach are off-limits, because of the Barbie connections. I don't remember where my objections come from to Venice Beach, but I am pretty sure it has something to do with rollerblades and spandex. There's that terrible movie "Laurel Canyon," the wretched "Topanga" on Boy Meets World, "The Little Old Lady From Pasedena," and well, I don't know what Santa Monica is all about but I really hate the name "Monica." And I don't even know what to say about Hollywood, Beverly Hills, or Bel Air.
It's embarassing. I couldn't say "oh, I live in Venice Beach" without feeling like a total reject.

Oh, seriously, allow me to retch

Crash? Worst movie ever. Seriously. Puketastic. Remember when movies were about subtlety & I don't know, something not boring and stupid? OK, me neither, but Crash sucked. Boo academy.

My soap dispenser at work.

It looks like this.



Always with the two inches of thicker, milkier soap on top. I noticed it my first time using the facilities here, and while the more translucent level will change, there are always two inches of grossness on top. As I have little to report of note (except that my boyfriend is handsome and brilliant, which is of course old news), I decided to illustrate the little bit of bathroom grossness that I visit every day.

what the kids are listening to...

So, the fact of the matter is, I am getting older. Indeed, I have found my first grey hairs (2 of them!) in the past week. I found that pretty damn traumatic and am now having nightmares about grey hairs and strollers and biological clocks, oh my.
But the 'arctic monkeys,' that really sets me off. What a freaking stupid band name. Now, I haven't heard them yet. I may give them a shot tonight when I am at home using a computer with sound capabilities. I guarantee you that I won't like it though. But Arctic Monkeys is an INSANELY dumb band name; it connotes nothing but socks sold at Claire's and t-shirts sold at Spencer's. Which isn't cool at all. I keep trying to think of a comparably stupid band name that I listen(ed) to during my youth, and the only thing I can think of is 'superchunk' except I never really listened to them, that was all Michael. Also I was never a foo fighters fan.
No, I feel quite certain that I never listened to any band with as stupid a name as 'arctic monkeys' and I will not start now.

Basically, I have to update my blog because the last sentence of my last post is grammatically inept, and each time I check back to see if there are any new comments, I notice my grammatic failure (brought on by a desperate desire to use the word 'imperious') I am mortified.
In other news, I am thus far the only one in my office, the parking lot to my building is almost completely empty, and the mailman just stopped by to tell me that we have no mail today. Today is going to be a strange one.

When I am taken hostage

When I am taken hostage, which is highly likely since I don't even know how to use a gun at all, thus increasing the likelihood that I'll be kidnapped and unable to escape, I hope that I am strong and resolute and say things like "Never back down! Don't give into their maniacal demands" especially if their demands are more or less reasonable, like a box of Thin Mints (although they are becoming less and less reasonable every year).
This brings me to my second point, which is, I need to learn how to use a gun. Should I ever, you know, get taken hostage or end up in a horror movie. I have nightmares about staring down Freddy Krueger, trying to blow his brains out, and falling backward, thus meeting my death.
I just hope that should I ever end up in a life or death situation, my eyes turn to steel and my manner imperious.

The military, the profane, and the profaned.

So, as I have previously mentioned, there is an army office in my building. To be honest, I'm not sure what they do, as they don't have a storefront, as it were, so I guess that means they aren't a recruiting office. Also, sometimes they are in the elevator with guns, which, I believe, are discouraged in recruitment. But here's the thing... they swear. A lot. The one I see most frequently seems to use the small hallway leading to my office for his loud phone calls. Since my job is pretty dull (see most of my previous entries), I don't really mind listening in on his typically angry and profane conversations. Why he chooses to have them in front of a door marked "REACH for Kids," I'll never know, but whatever. It passes the time. One literally lasted nearly two hours!!! One hopes these matters are not of national importance, though I could easily understand the desire to swear at full volume about the state of affairs.
Now, today, I rode the elevator with two of them, and they repeatedly referred to another person, presumably female, as a 'fucking cunt.' As most of you know, I pepper my speech frequently with profanity, but an office elevator? In the presence of another? Tres bizarre. And the c-word no less! I am pro-profanity and am quite liberal in where I believe it is acceptable to use. Indeed, I have even spoken with my colleagues about the dual issues of blow jobs and inclusion in schools (which, in middle school, I foresee as being a huge problem for parents who wish their special needs child to be fully integrated with their peers). However, I take umbrage with the near constant swearing of these army guys (and no, not even sailors!) while I fill my water glass at the communal fountain or ride the elevator.
While I recognize that the military is not known for its mild language, I must say I prefer my interactions with the military, as a civilian, to be more 'an officer and a gentleman' than 'jarhead.' I thought that with the whole desire to serve and defend came prosaic ideas about womanhood (or at least, white women...), and thus, deference to our more delicate sensibilities. I suppose that went out the window when we started using military service in lieu of a prison sentence.

Ruth ponders... predictability

So, today, as I flip through various news sites, I find myself unwilling to read the articles about our president's state of the union address or his visit to Nashville, various murders (while I do find these fascinating, they fall under the 'headline tells the story' category and thus always disappoint) and all the other boring and predictable news out there. The one exception being the president's statement that he is "educator-in-chief" which is possibly the most horrifyingly hilarious thing I have ever heard. However, it fits nicely into the underqualified theme of the past 6 years. I like imagining our president as Mrs. Honeycutt, my kindergarten teacher, and various other educators of my past. I also think it seems likely that Jack Black would have referred to himself as "educator in chief" in School of Rock, and that is totally awesome. There are many ways our president could be a lot cooler, and, I think, rocking out with kids and macking it to Joan Cusack are merely a couple of ways to start.

Hairy tits, faces, the works.

So my roommate and I instituted a new policy of meeting for drinks once a week, going to a bar we've never been to. It's part of my theory that we need to start exploring Kansas City like we did not grow up here and start thinking of Kansas City based on that "Kansas City here we come" song, that Magnetic Fields song, "your eyes are Kansas City, one in Kansas and one in Missouri" (ok, so that song isn't all too relevant, but I'm, well, so vain that I basically think that song is about me, also, GBV, Beekeeper Seeks Ruth, it totally makes me blush) and you know, who think Kansas City is awesome meat products and jazz and has one of the largest collections of Asian art outside of Asia. And there is that Altman movie, Kansas City, that I have never seen-- its tagline is "Kansas City, 1934. Anything could happen here. One night it did." for chrissakes.
So, for our first selection (Julie's, actually), we went to a bar called John's Big Deck, which, as my stud-lover points out, is totally a penis joke. In any case, we were pretty much the only women there, aside from the waitresses and one blonde lady with enormous fake and almost entirely exposed breasts. Her stomach, also enormous and exposed, seemed to be genuine. And most of the men there were a) long-bearded in baseball caps b) in overalls and c) eating the special, which was a hunk of meat, one slice of white bread, fries, and a baked potato.
Of course, I had the view of the action, which was bad, because I have a tendancy not to actually look at the person I am with, so this obviously exacerbated the problem, which escaladed when Tits went over to Longest-Beard with a pair of scissors and placed his long beard between her large and incredibly wall-eyed breasts, all the while making porn-star face, and cut his beard off, so that all the hair fell down her shirt. Then she stood up, and pulled a huge wad of hair out, still making porn-star face! To which, Formerly Longest-Beard said, huh, you've got hairy tits, and then they went home together!!! Or rather, left together. I should illustrate this for you, but I'm not really sure where the paint equivalent is on my pretty new iBook, and am too lazy to look.

Seriously, why are libertarians so crazy? I used to be a card carrying member (granted, before I could vote), but man, they are a wacky people. Superficially rational and logical beings, they insist on doing things like having excessive facial hair and loving the guns. I mean, don't get me wrong, I am relatively pro-gun, but actually touching guns and even owning them? That's a lot weird. Today I read about this guy, who, forget what he's saying, looks like Timothy McVeigh's handsome uncle.
But, what about what's he's saying? There shouldn't be secret laws requiring passengers to produce ID to fly... hmmm. Perhaps there is an argument worth making here. While I have never been troubled by this requirement, maybe I should be? I mean, I'd like to be able to read the law if I so choose (which, incidentally, I would never choose to do. Unless I go to law school, and then I might have to).
And then there is the fact that he's the co-founder of the Electronic Frontier Foundation , an organization that my boyfriend totally hearts. Which I now find creepy, because I think we all know that frontier is one of those creepy words, like legion or order that you know secretly means cults or militias.

Yeah Abortion Yeah

So, as I've been reading/listening to what our crazy president has been saying, I have begun writing my first screenplay. And when I say 'writing', I mean I just thought of it and figured, heck, I'll put it into my blog and maybe someone can steal it and that would be cool too.
I'll tell you about my thought process:

• Man, these pro-lifers are sure crazy. We shall overcome? What? Man, I bet those "yeah, it's totally shaved into a heart" Bush twins, I bet one of them has totally had an abortion.
• Oh, they so have. I mean, underage drinking is the gateway drug to unwanted pregnancy and I haven't noticed them pregnant. Although to be honest, I don't even know their names, much less the frequency of their ovulation.
• Ohmigosh, this would make the best movie about the abortion debate, way better than that crappy Citizen Ruth movie. And it goes like this:

Cool, obgyn, veteran of the women's movement. probably diane keaton, pam greer, susan sarandon, you know the type. the movie is mostly about her dilemma. The daughter of a high profile, anti-abortion activist finds herself with an unwanted fetus. Obviously, she can't turn to her parents, so instead, where does she go? Planned Parenthood of course! This in itself is an adventure as you know, she can't be spotted. I have not cast this role. but let it be known that whoever plays this part will know how to wear a scarf. In any case, she decides to have the abortion.

But the real debate is the obgyn's. She has to decide if she should leak the the girl's abortion to the press thus discrediting the politician father, or if she should go to great lengths to protect her privacy, as she would any other patient. Of course she keeps the secret, and of course the secret is found out, and of course everything works out for the greater good in the end, much like the Cheney's lesbian-child. Oh wait.

In any case, I am not predicting this movie to rock or anything like that. Rather, it would be more of an after-school special movie, although it would still play in theatres and maybe even win an academy award. This movie would go in the Step-mom, Seabiscuit, Other Sister category. You know, about how it is good to love defective things and you learn a lot about yourself when you do so.

question of the day:
should i, as my boss (who is a monster) suggested, become a lawyer?
or, does anyone have any better ideas about what should become of my life?

The OC & Cubix

Unfortunately, I can't really update my blog anymore because when I'm at home, I have to watch the OC all the time, and when I'm not busy at work, I have to play Cubix. My other free time has been devoted to scouring clearance racks, because, as every sensible shopper knows, 3 weeks after christmas is the best time to buy, as everything is now at its lowest price. Additionally, I have been listening to Jens Lekman "Oh You're So Silent Jens" rather obsessively. I love the album, but wonder if that isn't because I love Belle & Sebastian and Stephin Merritt best of pretty much all things, and he sounds remarkably similar. So I'm not sure if that's a bad thing and he should lose points because of it. Is Jens Lekman a knock-off? Is that a problem?

yawn

So, last night I woke up to Bill talking in his sleep, quite audibly, about Microsoft, Google & the Great Firewall of China. Or something like that. I swear this happened, he was in full-blown lecture mode about something to do with the above-named items. There is a chance, however, that I dreamed this and Bill is in fact innocent. I do have a history of dreaming things and then waking up, believing that they happened. I also believe that I dreamed last night that I told someone that my little brothers were both 6'4" and 220 lbs. However, that's not really true, one brother is not that tall and neither are that heavy. But anyway I feel pretty sure that I did in fact do this, except that I don't remember talking to any strangers yesterday, or really, at all over the weekend. So I have to assume that I did dream that part, but I nevertheless believe that Bill did talk in his sleep about technological stuff.
And speaking of my brothers, one has decided to move into my bedroom! I have been moved out for a week... or 6 years minus 3 months, as I prefer to look at it, and he's taking over my room of millions of years. Granted, it is the best room not occupied by my mother, but it's mine and I kinda thought I could just leave all my unneccessary stuff there for the next, oh, 10-70 years. But no, I actually have to decide whether or not I should really keep my Eleanor Roosevelt report from the 6th grade... and by this weekend too! I am not really a pack rat, but you know, I have about a half dozen boxes of various crap shoved around my room, not to mention the specific crap like all my books and photos from high school? And seriously, what on earth do people do with their jewel cases when they can't leave them at their mom's house anymore? On one hand, literally everything in my bedroom could be donated to goodwill and I would never really even notice, but to be forced to actually make these decisions... I had hoped to stretch it out over the next 8 months or so.
But really, what do people actually do with jewel cases?

New Digs & A Trip, whee.

So, I am all moved in to my lovey apartment. It is adorable, and we have all the good stuff, like beer, bourbon, a futon and a balcony. So we are totally visitor-ready. It pimps.
In other news, I am going to Chicago this weekend and will be getting down at a bar called the Hop Leaf at, umm, Clark and Foster on Saturday evening. Ms. Amy Lynn, dear friend and regular blog reader and (hopefully) super fantastic hostess, will probably comment on actual location. In any case, I would love to see my Chicagoland readers. So, go there! Or call/email me. Whee.

shhhh. don't tell.

I am wearing a sweatsuit to work today. It's pretty pimp, and looks a lot like sweatsuits worn by old black men that have large hard stomachs. I am pretending like it's work clothes, so that no one need know the truth. While writing this to you, I felt a flash of incredible foreboding, and am now worried about the fact that if I am choosing to sneak around in a sweatsuit at 24 in a relatively new job (and I am), what will my life be like when I have actual stress? Will my style erode further, or is this the ultimate low? Will my teenage daugher be mortified that I want to wear a sweatsuit to work and insist that it is ok because it's, in this case, from Banana Republic, or, as will likely be the case in 20 years, that it's ok because it's Liz Claiborne?
To be honest, this is the most comfortable sweatsuit known to man, and I am completely disinterested in ever taking it off. My bra, on the other hand, is another issue. And the clogs I am wearing are not nearly as comfortable as slippers. And of course, I'd rather be watching Law and Order. And eating Papa John's pizza with pineapple on top.

Merry Christmas from my pretty new iBook!

Hope everyone had a great Christmas/ Hanukkah, Kwanzaa, etc. But not courtesy of Virgin Mobile, because that ad sucks. I myself am curled up in my bed with my pretty pretty machine, listening to this Sufjan Stevens album that seems to have found its way on to just about every top ten list around. On the first couple listens, I definitely wasn't feeling it, but now I am pretty pleased with the first album I have ever chosen to download legally to a computer. There seem to be about 7 good tracks on the album, which would be a solid performance except that the album is nearly 4 times longer than that. But I am a happy girl, and especially happy because, for the first time in my post-16 year old life, I worked neither x-mas eve, nor will I work tomorrow. So that is joy, albeit unpaid.
Happy Christmas.

So, I don't want to be one of those people that goes for more than a week without updating, since those people make my work days a little bit more sad and boring, so I will tell you three things.

• After this Christmas season ends, I will never ever work retail again. I dislike enabling silly consumerist wankers. In other words, I hate helping people buy things, but decided to politicize my statement to make me sound better.
  
• I have been so tired lately I can literally go to sleep at the drop of the hat. At crap job #1, my boss never comes to work before 10, and rarely makes it in before noon, so I have been using the morning to drift in and out of sleep at my desk. I am not proud, and I think the end result is that I am more tired, but it is difficult to occupy my mornings otherwise and like I said, I am really tired.
• Saying this probably makes you wonder why my job is so crappy, if my boss isn't there in the morning and I get to sleep. But let me assure you that it is crappy. Indeed, this week I have been working on astral projection, which, if you don't recall from vaguelly supernatural books you read in the 5th grade, is when your soul leaves your body and goes and does other stuff (usually evil) then comes back. I need to do this so that my soul can vacate my body when she talks to me. It hasn't really worked yet, except I sometimes start shaking when she speaks to me.
  

To velvet coats.

Wow! Someone read my blog today from Stamping Ground, Kentucky. What a great city name. I do hope you come back.
I just saw that Pride and Prejudice movie. Keira Knightly remains unfortunate. Nevertheless, I love Pride and Prejudice, and nothing, not even Keira Knightly's dopey-ass self, will convince me otherwise. Now all I want to do is re-read Jane Austen and fall into a love-coma with Mr. Darcy and all the disagreable men in her novels. Bill kept falling asleep during the movie and he never likes to dance at parties, which is of course disagreable, but not in such a charming way because he has no fortune. He is exceptionally cranky, which is helpful, but never ever wears brocade jackets, which is not. Sometimes I think I missed my calling as a goth... but then, I never find eyeliner charming, only velvet coats. Actually I think everyone should have velvet coats. Were I officially anything other than burnt-out, I would decree it.

Must I recant?

So Kansas City is officially snow-drenched. We finally got the big snowstorm promised weeks ago. 8 inches and still going.
Fantastic, except that most of it happened while I was at work. So the drive home was fairly terrifying. My cute and fuel-efficient little car does not enjoy snow. My drive home from work took an hour and a half, as opposed to the usual 25 minutes. Mostly, I just drove very very slowly on unplowed roads along with about 50 million other people. Until disaster struck and I, along with about 10 million other people, were unable to get ourselves up a little hill.
Fortunately, we were rescued by a kindly Hummer and F250 truck. These two kind souls were driving back and forth, towing the smaller and more efficient vehicles up the little hill. My saviour didn't even say anything to me, just hitched me up and dragged me half a block, making my 1.5 hour journey a little more pleasant. So I guess I owe the massive car crowd one. Thus, I have decided I must recant roughly 20% of the bad things I have said about their owners.
The other issue I am wrestling with is whether or not I should go to crapjob #1 tomorrow... my boss told me it was optional. However, the option is get paid or don't get paid. If I do go, my boss will likely not come in, which makes the day a lot more fun than usual, but I will have to drive there, which will likely not be pleasant. If I don't go, I will stay at home... with the 3 teenage boys on snow day tomorrow.
Of course, at the moment, the snow is higher in my driveway than the doors of my car, so that may solve the dilemma for me. Either way, I am sure you will be hearing from me tomorrow.

grr grr grr

So my boyfriend is the funniest, and my friend Kitie is a sex offender. What would Elliot and Olivia say!
I myself am just cranky and curmudgeonly as my crazy-ass monsterboss is insisting I do unneccessary things while wasting resources. It would be one thing if this involved doing something I like, like smoking or driving in circles, but it doesn't, so I am annoyed.
Also, the National Weather Service reports that it will never stop snowing in Kansas City. I think I also heard them say that I should have called in sick from work today and watched the Sopranos countdown.

on my own again

So, friends, readers, etc, today I am at work alone. I will tell you about several things that have been on my mind.
1. My mother sexiled me this weekend. From my house. Awesome.
2. I will use my at work alone time to write Christmas cards. If you feel that you are deserving, tell me, and I will put one of my lovely holiday cards in the mail for you.
3. I watch a lot of tv, having little to do with my time, and I have to say, the eharmony.com commercials I find strangely compelling. I am very happy with my boyfriend, despite his pillow and couch hogging behaviors, but I am nevertheless tempted by these soul-mate promises, despite my convictions that such things don't exist. Everytime I see the ads, I want to hop online to see who they match up for me. Would eHarmony recognize that I could never date a Quentin Tarantino or Seinfeld fanatic? Would they set me up with someone who believes it acceptable to mix premium whiskeys or requests their Thai food served bland? Or would they set me up with someone who can be civil before his morning coffee and breaks an acceptable distance before stop lights.
But of course, I couldn't put these preferences in my profile, because then I'd immediately be written off as judgemental, which of course I am, but I like to think my cattiness does not lack charm.
In London, I tried to shop for friends on friendster, but was unable to find a single one acceptable, as I eliminated everyone with:
1. all foreign films listed as their favorite movies (a few, or even a majority, are acceptable, but all? come on.
2. more than 150 friendster friends. I will not be a notch on someone's belt.
3. a movie favorite list of 'pop' indie movies. garden state, napoleon dynamite, quentin tarantino, kevin smith, and wes anderson ditties. I like many movies by these directors, but try to enjoy at least a movie or two outside of your target demographic. My Fellow Americans, for instance, is hysterical.
4. same goes for michael moore movies or books. he is the converse of counterculture. smells like teen spirit, but swooshes like nike.
5. a music list of a bunch of pop music followed by 'mozart' or some other classical superstar. you expect me to believe that your ipod playlist is equal parts the ramones, the killers, belle and sebastian, wilco, the magnetic fields, and beethoven? give me a break. i'm sure you enjoy mozart, but leave him off the top ten list unless you are as likely to bust out the mozart cd as you are the yeah yeah yeahs. that said, your favorite music list should not read like the cmj charts.
6. your favorite book list must include fiction, and must feature a writer off the top ten list of contemporary literature for the 20 something crowd list. it's acceptable to like that chuck fightclub guy, or david foster wallace or nick hornby, or any number of tragically hip writers, but you must demonstrate a willingness to delve off the literary fluff shelf. Get down and get dirty with the classics or maybe something not published by the major league, media conglomerate publishing house.
Of course, many of my dearest friends commit these sins. Indeed, I myself justify my classical additions to my friendster profile only by telling myself that while I am far more likely to listen to pop music in my car than classical, I am in fact more likely to attend a classical music concert than I am a pop one. And this is only due to the fact that not much in the way comes to Kansas City, except the larger pop acts, and I am rarely willing to pay that much whereas you can almost always get into a classical performance for under a tenner.
So, what totally arbitrary things do you judge future friends and partners on? and do you want a christmas card?

an amusing story that I will relate in a dull way

So, Tuesday was supposed to be my last day at crap job with monsterboss, as the new victim started on Monday. So, Monday, this itty bitty girl who is my age shows up. She is nice, but has a fairly limited command of the English language, especially for a college grad. I tell you, I bet she didn't even know the word 'fuck.' This girl had at least two of the three characteristics that I find despicable--excessively long hair and nails. I'm sure she doesn't like spicy food either, but that isn't confirmed. Anyway, a lot of the stupid things she said specifically related to Kansas City, which would not amuse most of my readership as most of you are unfamiliar with the area. Needless to say, she grew up and went to college in the northern suburbs, and had pretty much never been downtown or to midtown, where we work. When I asked her about this, she mentioned visiting Kaleidescope, the Hallmark-sponsored children's museum, in grade school... And then monsterboss offered to take her to the Jerusalem Cafe to lunch, to which newgirl said "oh, i had indian food once..." Also she was a psychology major and hadn't heard of autism... (my job is in the health care/special needs field).
In any case, Tuesday I was supposed to come in for a couple hours to make sure she was doing ok on her own. But when I got there, I found that she had, in fact, quit. This is not that weird as monsterboss is truly heinous. But she didn't even have the opportunity to see that, she just thought it would be.. too stressful. So, I am back at crap job until I/them find something/one better.

2 very good things

1. Shopgirl. Bill and I saw it tonight. Utterly charming.
2. Julie, Bill and I found digs today. We move in sometime after Christmas/around Julie's birthday (Jan 1). There is a gym and tennis courts and other cool stuff. Also it is right by the mexican price chopper, so that means horchata any time of day or night! We have no guest bedroom, having no money, but the closet space is exceptional! Come visit!

At work alone

So, here I am, at work by myself with nothing to do. I've read a book (The Human Stain by Phillip Roth--I do not understand why he is so loved), bounced a ball all around the office, checked my email every 4 or 5 minutes, and colored post-its with high-lighters then immediately recycled them. I also drew you pictures of my time-wasting, as I respond well to positive reinforcement. I should do some stuff, like preparing my work crap for my monsterboss's new victim who starts on Monday, which is, fantastically, my last day.
So, here I read.

My observant readers might note that my hair is a different color than Monday's images. That is not true. My hair remains the same color; what you are noticing is the different color in my drawings. There are a number of reasons for that: I 'customize' my hair color but never save the color, I am not sure what my hair color is anyway, and sometimes I think it is important to embrace my impending brownheadedness, while other times I think it would be fun to be a real blonde. Now, let's chase a ball.

Oh, the troubles

Yesterday, I drove around most all of the Kansas City suburbs taking pictures of houses for sale for my friend Jessica, who is the photographer for a real estate magazine. Due to scheduling conflicts, she asked me to help out. Now, this was fairly exciting as I got to use Jess's fancy schmancy digital camera, yet also a bit stressful because I believe that Jessica may very well love her camera more than me. So I had to be very careful. My caution led to disaster striking. For the first time in my entire life, I locked my keys in the car. I have illustrated this for you.

Mind you, I was in the middle of nowhere (Lee's Summit, MO to be exact) and had literally no one to call. Mom was in Topeka, boyfriend in Nashville, Jessica at work... other friends out of town... Besides that, my phone was in the car and one doesn't memorize phone numbers anymore.
So, I see some people in their yard and ask them for help. A guy with a mullet and a USA leather bomber jacket gets a wire hanger and goes for it. I have illustrated this as well.

Unfortunately, he didn't succeed and I had to pay some other guy with a mullet $45 to do it. And if anyone tells me that the police unlock cars for free, I don't want to hear it.

Kirstie Alley Can Eat a Dick

I know that I am committing a blogging faux pas by updating right after I just questioned you, but please read down and help me on my computer queries. I really had to update about the atrocity I just witnessed.
Seriously, I just watched the first episode of Fat Actress and I don't think I have ever seen something so stupid and offensive. The episode begins with Kirstie lying on the bathroom floor, weeping after weighing herself. This goes on for literally several minutes. Then, of course, she gets up and gets herself a double burger and fries at a fast food joint. In her robe. Of course! Because it's funny, right, a fat lady eating a hamburger in her pjs. But obviously not funny enough, because she loses her french fries and thinks they weren't served to her, so she yells out the window that it's america and they need to learn to speak English. Hysterical, right? But that's not all the race fun the show has in store, because later, she and her assistants decide she needs to black men as they prefer the larger ladies. So what do they do! Go to a soul food restaurant of course! May as well kill two birds with one stone! Get her fed and get her fucked! But even more knee-slapping is when her assistant refers to the restaurant as a 'black market.' I remember those... American History 1660-1865 right?
And then there is the really awesome scene where Kirstie Alley goes on an interview all dolled up, and everyone just stares and stares at her. The office virtually shuts down so everyone can get a glimpse of her ass. Which is understandable, as you know, the size 16 Kirstie Alley is 2 whole sizes larger than the national average, so it's really unlikely anyone in the building had in fact seen someone so large.
But the episode reaches its zenith when Kirstie tries to make herself puke with a peacock feather but ends up deciding to finish her cookie. How can she hate herself so much she would be willing to degrade herself in such a way? Although I suppose one could ask the same question of the Look Who's Talking franchise...
Honestly, where were the calls to boycott this piece of crap?

Oh, brother...

So, the time has come to make a new computer purchase. My current laptop, bought refurbished over 5 years ago, is in serious need of retirement.
But I don't know what I need. I am seduced by the flash of Apple, but am not sure the price jump is necessary, as my current needs consist of internet and word processing. I definitely want a laptop with wireless capabilities.
However, sooner or later I will make the leap to digital photography. When I do so, I will want an SLR camera compatible with my Canon EOS Elan IIe. So we are talking at least a 1K camera. So, should I purchase the significantly more expensive computer bargaining on the fact that I will eventually make the digital commitment? Or should I wait it out? I will not likely get a digital camera body for at least a year.
And, if I am planning on the most mundane of personal uses, why would I buy an Apple?
I feel extraordinarily conflicted about this. I think I would rather buy a car than a computer.
So will someone please solve all my problems and tell me what I need? And how much I should spend on it and where I can find a deal?

Sweet Potatoes!

It is sweet potato season and for this I am excited.
The Rachel's are playing in Kansas City tonight and I am going and for this too, I am excited. I love the rachel's. At least, I hope I am going because I refuse to pay ticketmaster's extortionate price. An extra $7.40 on a $10 ticket? There is no way in hell. I love the rachel's $17.40 but a girl has to has principles.
Speaking of, I am playing phone tag with a lady from Unity Church where I applied for a copywriting job. I assume she wants to interview me.
I debated long and hard about applying for a position with a religious institution to which I do not belong. I researched the church, I discovered that they ordain both women and gays as ministers, one of my main criteria. Indeed, www.godhatesfags.com considers Unity Church to be exceptionally fag-loving. The job also pays quite well and has excellent benefits. So I decided to apply. That said, Unity Church does seem a little weird on the website. But, a Unity church here always has good readings. So does anyone have any insight on this? Work for a church? Even a liberal church?

So today

I finally got around to watching Garden State. It was, as previously predicted some months ago, awful, however not as awful as I thought. It was somewhat redeemed by Natalie Portman's character, who was far more genuine than the ladies typically featured in such movies. However, Zach Braff should stick to Scrubs, which is more or less amusing more or less of the time.
I have finished watching the 2nd season of the L-Word, and I reiterate my assertion that it totally rocks. Rent it today.

I wish I could update again but I have to watch the L-Word until I've seen all of season 2. Probably you'll hear from me again at the beginning of next week.

Fuck Desperate Housewives, The L-Word is the new Sex and the City

Yeah, you hear that, Teri Hatcher? You, and your twiggy big-headed bitches, suck. Despite being 4 women in their 30s, you don't even come close to the supreme excellence of sex and the city or the l-word. Your fashion sense is unremarkable, the dialogue is beyond trite, and the endless plot twists tedious.
As devastated as I was when Sex and the City went off the air, The L-Word is nurturing my recovery. Sure, the majority of the characters are lesbians, and I am not, but their hairstyles are downright inspirational. Not to mention the fascinating characters and plottings.
While being a housewife is cool and I'll fight for your right to whatever, it's a hell of a lot more interesting to watch a show where the characters actually have careers. Admirable ones. Museum director, journalist, tennis player, hair stylist, and yes, a housewife.
Seriously, if I see another magazine with Teri Hatcher's gigantic head on her skeletal frame again, I will puke. The only character on Desperate Housewives that is remotely interesting is Lynette, who, surprise, has a job. Yet even the L-Word manages to make their jobless character, Tina, among the most interesting.
That said, the L-Word has some flaws, like the sexually confused writer Jenny who is painfully self-conscious without being self-aware, but I suspect I only find her excrutiating because I'm pretty sure we roomed together once in college.
In conclusion, if someone references Desperate Housewives as the new Sex and the City, I will skin them alive and turn them into a pair of round-toe, knee-high boots and a pair of sling backs. What these fools neglect to note when make their comparisons is that Sex and the City was a feminist show, and Desperate Housewives is certainly not a replacement for that. Carrie and the girls had real issues, real weight gain, and real relationships. Desperate Housewives has horrible mothers (except Lynette, who is actually cool) and ridiculously low-cut jeans on women with no ass. The L-Word, while featuring women a damn sight more attractive than most of the lesbians I have encountered, at least demonstrates ambition and characters a girl can look up to. Which is all I'm asking.

Nightmares

Last night I had a dream in which someone told me I was 24 and I broke down crying. Even sadder is the fact that I am 24.
Even sadder than that is that a spider saw fit to get a little fresh and bit me on the second baseline.

I am good in every way

So, Friday I attended my first 'first fridays' something the crossroads district of art galleries in Kansas City puts on, on, you guessed it, the first Friday of the month. So, my KC Crew and I headed down to look at some contemporary art, most of which, you guessed it, sucked. However, I probably liked about 15% of the work I saw, which isn't a bad percentage. It was exciting to see the Kansas City downtown try to act like a big city. The highlights of the evening included giant white punching bag-esque sculptures that vibrated like heart beats and you hugged them. I do enjoy interactive art. We followed this up with nachos and margaritas at one of Kansas City's most famous Mexican establishments.
And yesterday, Bill and I attended the opera-- we saw Benjamin Britton's Turn of the Screw, which is... unusual. Some amazing voices, but dissonance in opera is not my favorite. Really, I attend the opera for the big arias that make my heart soar and all that, not goofy chord structures that make my heart sour. Nevertheless, it was fun, and I wore cowboy boots, which made me feel like a bit of a rockstar.
And today I played tennis! Which I haven't played since we covered all the sports in ninth grade gym. So I think everyone would agree that I am well on my way to joining the cultural elite, yeah?

I aim to please

That's why I'm updating my blog now even though I am tired and full of nothing interesting. However, yesterday I wore a skirt and tights and suffered dearly at the hands of static cling, which, as it turns out, is bad for my self-esteem. All day yesterday I looked like I was wearing culottes, which, as we all know, are not cool at all. Then I thought to myself, no, I look like I am wearing those gaucho pants or whatever. Then I thought, gaucho, isn't that like gauche? Then I thought about how no one seemed to wear those pants in Europe except that one honeymooning (American) couple Bill and I went on a tour with in Munich. Then I thought about how the bride, in gaucho pants, looked a lot like a girl I went to elementary school with, whose full name I am tempted to enter but fear she may one day google herself. In any case, I will share it in a tricky fashion: Phe0be Haz3lw00d Har1an. When I met her in the first grade, I told my parents about my new best friend, Poeheebee. In any case, she is totally the sort who would wear gaucho pants, if she has remained the same sort of person she was in the 6th grade which is probably the last time I spoke with her. That said, I am not comfortable ruling out gaucho pants for myself. After all, I do like skirts in that length, as well as other sorts of calf- grazing attire. So maybe I will pick up a pair of those gauche pants that are filling clearance racks across Kansas City. I'm a crazy girl, I'll try anything once.

Obligatory Update

So, Halloween in a few minutes. That's cool, but what would be cooler is a job I actually like. Also, would be cooler if I or even someone else in my household was going trick or treating, because I want some 2-packs of Starburst tomorrow and I'll be hella pissed if I don't get any.
In other news, I have acquired 6 pairs of shoes since landing on American soil 5 weeks ago. All exceptional bargains, I might add. Still, I expect I may be out of control. In my defense, I purchased almost nothing during the year abroad, so I am really making up for lost time. I get my first paycheck since my return tomorrow, so it's more or less acceptable that I bought 3 pairs of shoes yesterday.
In other news, my KC ladies (otherwise known as the triple J explosion) and I are starting a book club and I am charged with the first selection. Any suggestions?

What is fun is

Cooking with hot peppers and burning your tongue and/or eyeballs up to several hours later every time they make contact with your tingly fingers.

Also, fun, a giant gold dick fountain in Amsterdam with drug dealer/ art student in the background.

Murder

It has become critical that my boss be exterminated. I don't know a hit person, so am wondering if any of my readers are interested in making a career change. I also have no money, but am willing to provide in-kind services, such as dog-walking or fish-feeding.

Vroooom

Yeah, mountains are cool, especially when they come in colors that match my blog. 3 cheers for the aus-countries and their fun citizens that rocked Estes Park with us crazy Kansans. However, driving 2500 miles over the last 3 weeks sucks. Also so does my boss.
Nevertheless, I am pretty pumped about future and entirely tentative 'great lake states' tour, including Minnesota, Wisconsin, and Illinois. Also by default Iowa and Missouri. But that's cool, Iowa has a lot to offer.
Also I am looking forward to Showtime's promise to show the second season of the L-Word on demand soon. I love that girl-drama.

Terror before Coffee?

So, let me preface this by saying I am, generally speaking, cool with the military's existance and respect our underpaid soldiers.
That said, full fatigues, army boots, and big guns getting off my elevator at work (where, incidentally, I am all by myself) before I'm fully awake, absolutely terrifies me.
Now, likely they are here for some administrative purpose as there is some sort of Army office in the building. Why one of them had what I believe is called an 'assault rifle' as he walked by me while I was exiting the bathroom, I couldn't really say. Maybe it's show and tell at a local high school. However, the other guy leaving the elevator had only a cup of coffee.
I know some of my big city readers are no doubt used to a military presense; however, I am not.
But honestly, I think the issue for me is really more the fatigues than the big guns. Fatigues just seem Timothy McVeigh, who, in addition to being a huge dick, is (was? did they kill that ugly bastard?) a total dog. I prefer the Tom Cruise/Richard Gere full-dress thing. While it seems to be rarely sexy in practice, in the movies it always looks nice. And Richard Gere and Tom Cruise don't even do it for me. No, fatigues, particularly tucked into boots, give the impression of man-hips, which says to me "I am angry at the world for my genetic defect and thus am predisposed towards killing innocent people," whereas the dress uniform says "I am a strangely patriotic young man with a truly fantastic ass."
Now, tell me, which would you rather see at 9 in the morning?

Saturation

So yesterday I reached saturation point with the whole 'living at home' thing. With this whole having a sorta job business, and then going home, it means that I am literally never ever alone. This means that I have no tolerance for my mother's tendancy to follow me around the house, babbling about this or that. However, I am forced to continue along this path until I have enough money to pay rent and a deposit. Which the soonest that could possibly happen is the beginning of next month. That is, however, only if I decide it is unimportant to pay anything more than the minimum on credit card and student loans.
On the really exciting side of things, my Australian friend from Dublin, Alana, is arriving tonight, and I really doubt Kansas City has EVER had an Australian tourist! So I envision loads of free drinks and free food, and when we drive to Colorado on Friday, I anticipate her charming accent getting us out at least one speeding ticket. Also, I will probably have to make her wrestle a mountain lion, just for fun.

Yeah, Foliage, Yeah

So, an exciting weekend spent in lovely Galesburg, Illinois. Not nearly as exciting, though certainly exciting, was the prettiness of Iowa, Missouri, and Illinois. Driving across the Midwest reminds me of how much I love it. Sure, there is a lot of shittiness, and I'd pretty much rather die than live in these small towns that I admire so much aesthetically, but man, I love to look. The hills, barns, cornfields, and this time of year, pretty pretty foliage makes me awfully happy, especially when accompanied by some Stephin Merritt and Yo La Tengo. Three cheers for Long Vermont Roads and Autumn Sweaters. But I was sad that I couldn't think of any midwestern bands that waxed nostalgic about the midwest, although I have to say I get a little misty every time Stephin Merritt sings 'your eyes are kansas city, one in kansas and missouri' (or something like that, quoting is not my strong suit). Surely there must be some that I just couldn't think of at the moment, or maybe I was unable to stop myself from choosing any number of the Merritt bands, which tends to happen when I'm on the road for more than 20 minutes.
So last weekend I headed north on I-29 to family in Lincoln, Nebraska. This past weekend, I-35 followed by US-34 (my fave) to Galesburg, and next weekend, I-70 to Estes Park, Colorado.
Three cheers to roadside produce stands, and Sprite and Hostess Cupcakes from the Chariton, Iowa BP.

The Nerve!!!

When did the New York Times add this TimeSelect bullshit? It is bad enough that older articles cost money, now this! You have to be a member to read a damned editorial? 50 bucks a year to read a bunch of our nation's intellectual elite bitch about the Bush administration? Don't get me wrong, Maureen Dowd and Frank Rich seem cool and all, but I can't think of the last time I read an editorial that expressed a particularly unique opinion. Really, all editorials tend to do is make me hate my fellow liberals for their ineffectiveness and baby-boomer mentality. Also I don't know what I mean by baby-boomer mentality but consider it a scathing remark.

Soupy and the Banshees

I like soup, so I am going to make some in a few minutes. But in the meantime, I thought I would post in my blog even though I've got nothing of note to say. However, after I get done making soup, I am going to eat it, duh, then go play poker at a bar! But don't worry, not at a casino because I got no dough and also because I am afraid of playing poker in the special room. Also I am afraid of losing money. Really afraid of that in fact. My combined losses at the Ameristar casino in Kansas City total $43. The first time I lost 10 dollars at blackjack and 10 on the penny slots, which takes much less time than you would think. The second time, 15 on blackjack and 8 on the penny slots.
I was going to conclude with something like, but man, if you could play blank for money, I'd be rolling in the dough, but then it occurred to me that there is no game for the blank. Despite the fact that I like games and am always willing to play them (except Monopoly which really freaking blows), I am not very good at them. I think this demonstrates that I have a great spirit and a damn fine nature, not to mention my ass in the jeans I am using to cover it.

Nebraska football

So yesterday I attended a Cornhuskers game in Lincoln. Those of you that know me know I am not at all interested in football; however, my mother (a Nebraska native) felt this was an essential cultural experience for our Belgian exchange student. Nevermind that I have never attended a Nebraska game in my life.
While watching the game, I discovered a few things. Mainly, football is really dull. However, as I watched I began to understand a few things. Primarily, why I find football so boring. Previously, I thought I had no appreciation for the game because I never played it as a child. I played soccer, basketball, softball, and volleyball. This is also the list of sports I find worthwhile entertainment. But it turns out I find football unbearable because the game stops literally every 5-10 seconds, and this is meant to please the crowd. When the bad guys have the ball, the crowd goes wild when nothing seems to be happening. They are pleased when the bad guys are unable to advance a yard. This makes for an excrutiatingly dull game. At the beginning, I felt inclined to cheer for a tackle that occured after a nice long run, whereas my co-spectators found this an opportunity to groan and make disparaging remarks. They went wild when nothing seemed to be happening and it was impossible to figure out where the hell the ball was. That is when I realized I now officially understand football and think it is dead boring.
However, it was exciting to see 75K people wearing red. I too wore red, but it was a Knox hoodie and a pair of kick ass sneakers. Still, damn glad I went with red.
Incidentally, Knox friends, will any of you be attending homecoming? I sure will be! But I will probably not elect to go to the football game.

What do to with stuff?

Notes passed in the 8th grade, mix tapes lovingly made in the 10th, graduation announcements from high school, college, graduate school. Old purses, favorite shoes, worn out tee shirts. Jewel cases for long-lost cds, marker sets, negatives, and so many books. How on earth can I hope to be an adult in a room I've lived in, off and on, for 15 years? What does one DO with this stuff? How can I possibly throw away an empassioned treastise from Colleen on how Jeff is such an asshole and no one will ever love him, even though I haven't spoken to Colleen in about 10 years and I have no idea who Jeff is? Or even more humiliating notes from friends I still have and read this blog so I will not spill the details on their secret crushes from years past.
There are compelling reasons to get rid of all these things, but I am more compelled to keep them. But something has got to go, as I have no space, and though I don't know how long I am going to live in my bedroom, I still need to turn it into a room with more than just overflowing boxes stashed in every corner. Any suggestions how to do this without getting rid of my most treasured memories?

Ay yi yi

Is that how that's spelled?
So yesterday I exercized deliberately for the first time in over a year. After a week of lying on the couch, eating, and drinking, I decided that if I wanted to continue to fit in the clothes my mother has been kind enough to buy me these past few days, I had better find a more effective way to burn calories than scooping ice cream into a bowl (which can be quite strenuous!). I decided to go running, literally the first time in well over a year not counting the occasional chasing after a bus in Ireland. Foolishly, I took my dog, who is still significantly faster than me, but worse, is significantly more interested than breaking far faster than I can and climbing up trees. Nevertheless, I managed to last for over a mile (non-stop!), which may not sound like much, but is damn good for the first day out. And it is HARD to keep hold of a dog!
Nevertheless, today has been pretty painful.
However, my interview went fairly well, probably because Bill bought me some sexy sexy shoes today that I wore. Red, Kenneth Cole round-toe pumps. They don't get much better. But don't worry, they were on clearance at a new discount shoe store, so mega-bargain. Bill might be nice, but I'm sure he doesn't love me full-price. So, I think I stand a good chance of getting the job but don't have my heart set either way, probably because I have another interview lined up as a grant writer with UMKC, which pays better so I like that. Also I might get to take free classes in the evenings and learn something useful.
So, I am stronger than I thought, I have sexy shoes, and surely someone will give me a job soon.

Humiliation + Interview, whee

So today, like most days this week, I applied for a job! Several jobs in fact. But on one of the cover letters of one of the jobs I applied for, I made an egregious error. I wrote: Through a variety of customer service roles and my honors degree in English literate, I have developed superb written and oral communication skills.
Incidentally, I'm not sure if I used egregious correctly up there. But I know my charm will see me through. Also, please note that the italics are for your reading convenience.
In any case, of course I noticed this after sending the email. So of course I panicked. But then I wrote the lady back and said that I hoped she had a laugh, and not to hold it against me. And guess what happened, not even 10 minutes after I sent my follow up email! I got an interview! So I could be an 'information specialist' at a public health non-profit!
I am very pleased to have my first interview set up at a place I would actually want to work, despite my humiliating mistake.

Kansas City Here I come

Ok, so I have actually been in Kansas City for several days now. But whatever. Tonight I went to a local brewery for $2 pints (incidentally, have I mentioned how much I love America?), but what did I find there?
My former middle school's musical god, being their 'live music' which means crap john mayer cover band. Fortunately, I escaped unrecognized but my friend Julie was not so lucky. In any case, check out his awesome website: Musical God of the 8th grade. Allow me to say that I never fell for his charms. Perhaps this is due to the fact that we shared the 'most musical' award in the 7th grade. Fuck him, man. I may have no job, no digs, and be significantly older than I was a week ago, but at least I got a haircut today.

Oh, shit.

Literally. I just spent my fourth night in Kansas City scrubbing shit off the floor of the bathroom. Incidentally, it was not even my own shit. Not, of course, that I do such things. And even worse, not even not my own nevershat shit, but likely the shit of a teenage boy. Which teenage boy I can't say, but I feel confidant that the sheer revoltingness of this age group overwhelms any semblence of difference between shits.
So, I'm sure you'd like to know why this happened. About to go to bed, I head to the bathroom and notice that the toilet is not flushed. I flush it. It doesn't flush back.
Then, I try plunging it with what appears to be some sort of bellows that is sitting behind the toilet that I have never ever seen before. It looks like this:

Please note that it probably holds two liters in there.

I plunge away for about 30 minutes with no success. Meanwhile Michael calls. He is hard to follow. I decide, hell, let's just flush and see if it's ready. Wrong. It begins spewing all over the rather large bathroom.

I get off the phone with Michael. My mother wakes up. I am furious about having to use such a worthless plunger. Mind you, and my past roommates will vouch for this, I am a masterful and fearless plunger. But this job eluded me.
Instead, I ended up scrubbing shit off the floor.

24, Unemployed, and Living at Home

Just the way I always dreamed it would be!
The good news is, however, that I am the proud owner of a 2000 Mazda Protege. I think it's green, but I can't be sure as I have only seen it at night. But I am pretty pumped, as this is my first car made in the same decade I am to be driving it. Although it was likely made in the 90s. So perhaps better to say model year. Still, pretty awesome.
Also, my friends rocked at remembering my birthday. I know how to pick them for sure! Also, I am big on shameless self-promotion. And the Royals won for me yesterday as I knew they would (side note on the baseball game: Jess gave me a fat lip while trying to catch a flying hot dog, and there were no mint chocolate dip n dots to be had).
Tomorrow I begin the job search in earnest, as well as catching up on my shows. I figure for every hour of good job hunting and applying, I should be entitled to two hours of watching the sopranos, dead like me, six feet under, the l-word, the OC or any crime show re-runs. Also I could be persuaded to rent desperate housewives but I think Teri Hatcher is truly appalling. I will also consider Entourage, and I admit a certain curiousity with Rome. Really, I feel pretty flexible about this, and will consider most television programs and movies. Although maybe not movies yet as I don't have the attention span and, to be honest, I have seen most all of the movies.
As a side note, I do think that television rots most people's brains, but I am a critical viewer and am constantly learning and engaging with the television.
Also, I was incredibly moral for 4 months of television free existence in Ireland.
Basically, what I am saying is, don't judge me as I would judge someone for a similar blog post.

Land that I love

Home! I am finally home! After a week in Colorado, 1 day in the air, 364 days in Europe, and finally 3 days in Colorado, I am finally in my home state of Kansas! While Kansas is perhaps not the most exciting place on earth, I could not be more thrilled to be here.
Europe's grand and I can't wait to go back, but this is my country and I love it best. The space, the food (perhaps not as delicious as some cuisines, but variety is the spice of life), my friends, my family, the everything and the et cetera.
I mean, what is not to love about rest stops? Clean free toilets? Brilliant.
And tomorrow, I go to the Royals' final home game with all of my KC friends! And then the next day, I turn 24! So don't forget.

Red!

Whee! Yesterday Bill and I went to the famous Red Light District!
Now, those of you that know me know that I have a profound fascination with the sex industry, so as you can imagine, this was downright a dream come true! The girls are actually in the windows! Amazing! And most of them were quite good looking, though there was a wide variety of girls on display. I have no idea how much they cost, but to be honest, if they are reasonably priced I fear the extinction of girlfriends. I mean, I know that I'm a great girlfriend and all, but I'm sure you could buy better and never have to eat at a vegetarian restaurant or watch sex and the city again. So I may have to rethink my pro-legalisation stance.
In any case, I think my eyes were wide open the entire time I was there. I'm not sure though if the prostitutes were my favorite or the johns, as I think it's far more scandalous to go to a prostitute than to be one. But I couldn't stare as much at the johns, as they weren't in windows in their underwear. Also adding to the excitement of the whores were the large tour groups moving through the area and the abundance of young men offering Bill and I every type of synthetic delight.
I admit to being disappointed that we didn't see any obvious transsexuals or women going in for theatrics. One lady was dressed as a schoolmarm, but the rest were in standard 'sexy' clothes, ie lingerie, usually lacy although occasionally rubbery. I am quite sure I would go with some elaborate stage set and costume. I would have especially liked to see some lady dressed as one of the women Rembrandt painted. Surely there is a fetish for that? Tonight Bill and I will go staring again!

Amsterdam!

Well, Bill and I are now in Amsterdam! Very exciting. Yesterday, we went to the Sex Museum, where I learned that American women invented anal sex, and that women especially are fascinated by bestiality and find it quite erotic. Hmm. I am pretty sure the Romans invented everything naughty, and as for my alleged prediliction for bestiality, well, just know that Hello Kitty is near and dear to my heart. I also learned that the only thing that has changed in pornography over the past two thousand years is the hairstyles.
Of course, after learning such shocking things we had to clear our heads and decided to partake in Amsterdam's most famous legal substance. I was quite worried about this as I feared that I would totally love smoking pot and feel that the last 10 years of my life were wasted as I rarely take part in such activities. While I did get much higher much quicker than in the good old US of A, I can't say I felt too bad about my wasted, or lack there of, years. However, Bill is a big wuss. But I will not tell about his pansyassedness.
Before Amsterdam, we were in Bonn and Cologne with actual Germans! Very exciting. We watched soccer and drank beer as one does, very fun. I met Bill's London Eye friend Jenni, who was our fantastic host and insured that we ate chocolate and crepes, which is ideal in a host.
So, that's the news. I reach America in 5 days, and turn 24 in 10. Too much excitement.

Prague Schmague

This is what I say when I am disappointed.
Prague is nice but rancid with tourists and there just isn't that much to do here. I am having a hard time figuring out why everyone loves it that much. But it's nice.
In any case, tomorrow we go to Berlin which I could not be more excited about.
That's the news.
In Munich, Bill and I saw Bewitched. I love Will Farrell best.

Vienna, whee

Well, Bill and I are now in Vienna, which is fanfriggintastic. For instance, for lunch, I had fried, fried, with a side of pickles and Bill had a 2 meter long wiener! I don't even want to hear what Freud would say about that.
Then we went to the Staatoper where we saw Verdi's Don Carlos, which was so incredibly exciting I nearly peed in my pants (she said she liked it more than pirates of penzance) and not even because it was 5 hours long.
Tomorrow we will consume more rich, fattening and delicious Austrian food and culture in Salzburg!
Budapest was a little cruel to Bill and I, with much unexpected closings, bus cancellations, etc. However, we spent plenty of time soaking away our pains in their lovely baths and eating gyros and falafels. Without the remnants of Turkish occupation, I'm sad to say, Budapest might have been kind of crap.
Vienna, on the other hand, has consistently rewarded Bill and I's moral rectitude. I will recount its virtues.
Yesterday Bill and I realized, shortly before boarding our train, that, in fact, August has 31 days and our hostel booking was for the wrong day. So, we were en route to a city notoriously difficult to find beds in with no reservations. However, this turned out to be fine.
Then, we noted that the modern art museum was open late on thursday, so we headed there to find that not only is it open late on thursday, but its two sister museums, an exhibition hall and another, slightly less modern (19th & early 20th century) museum are also open and having a special 'art night' where all 3 are available for the bargain price of nine euro! Which is a bargain as that's the price for one. So, that was great! If we were in Budapest, we would have showed up, found out that it was free yesterday and is now closed for the season. But Vienna rewards us with loads and loads of contemporary art. 60 sq km of it!
And they have green foam boat things for you to sit in outside.