Makes Me Laugh

Today I ran across this Tumblr, and essentially raped it of all the images that made me laugh. So, to give her credit (oh, wait, I just did!)...ok, instead of credit, I'll just wish her fantastic luck on the bar. Do yourself a favor and check out the inspiration for my thievery.











And the best:


You're welcome.

Guilt

I don’t do well with guilt; I tend to pretend things just didn’t happen in order to not feel badly about them. But sometimes these situations can’t be avoided, and I get caught up in the drama.

Case in point:

There are a lot of women in the office where I’m currently working. As I was leaving the other day, I was chatting with a blonde lady (I’ve since learned her name, but there’s no point in telling you) about what I’ve been doing since I started here. She asked, “So what have you been doing?” I replied, “Not enough, so if there’s anything you’ve got that I can help you with, just let me know.” She answered that with, “Well, my car needs cleaning…”

Folks, I was really taken aback. What a rude thing to say, even if she were joking! I mean, that’s just plain bitchy. I joked off the encounter, saying something to the effect of, “You don’t want that, just look at my own car!” But still, it stung, and the next day I just refused to look at her or speak to her.

But yesterday, as I was leaving, I was on the phone with the boy, and this woman was behind me. As I was getting into my car and she into hers, parked two places away from mine, I told the boy that she was there. Maybe not in as nice of terms. Maybe it was something more like, “That bitch who said that thing to me was right behind me.”

Now I can’t say for certain that she heard me call her a bitch, but it’s entirely possible that she did. So now I feel guilty, not because she didn’t deserve to be called a bitch, but because I don’t like to get caught talking about people. I don’t really like the repercussions. And who knows? Maybe she was just kidding and I’m overreacting.

And this is where the cycle begins. I’m angry at what she said, I’m worried that she heard me call her a name, and I get nervous when I see her in the hall. Why is it so hard for me to just stand up for myself and say, “Yeah, I said/did that”?

There’s Some Good Eats In Birmingham

This weekend, I went to Birmingham to judge a We The People /Frontiers civil rights competition. Sounds thrilling, right? It was, actually. I judged teams of middle-schoolers (can’t we just have junior high back? Pet peeve of mine. Anyhoo…) mostly, and a high-school team, on their thoughts on judicial review, due process, and equal protection. I would have felt a lot better about my abilities to judge others about the 14th Amendment had I been able to remember the difference between the two, but let’s not dwell on specificities. There’s food to talk about!

Needless to say, I completely destroyed my diet while I was down there. Friday night we ate at the Tutwiler Hotel . The food was pretty darn tasty. I had tortellini with fried asparagus and mushrooms. It was a bit salty for my liking – tasted as if the chef added salt to the dish, which was unnecessary considering the inherent saltiness of asparagus. Didn’t stop me from eating my whole meal, though. And dessert was even better. It was a chocolate torte served with fresh basil and balsamic vinaigrette. I highly recommend chocolate combined with balsamic vinaigrette.

Saturday’s lunch was courtesy of Pete’s Famous Hot Dogs . As I am not a fan of the hot dog (anyone else remember Jake Johannsen’s routine on white balls in hot dogs?), I opted for the cheeseburger. Well, let’s be honest. I opted for two of them. Folks, these were the best damn scary-diner cheeseburgers I have ever eaten. I had mine with mustard, pickles, and “sauce”. I have no idea what was in the sauce, and I can’t even fathom a guess, because it’s entirely possible that I swallowed these burgers whole. They were slap-your-Mama good. Seriously. I was completely stuffed, yet an hour later, I craved another one. I’m craving one as I write this right now. I don’t often recommend products, but if you get the chance, get your sweet self down to Pete’s and eat. And say hi to Gus for me too.

Saturday night we went to Dreamland . Dreamland is a barbeque institution in Alabama, and from what I hear, is really good stuff. This was not necessarily the best place for me to eat, as I don’t eat ribs or pulled pork. But my fellow diners nearly drown themselves in plates upon plates of ribs, and judging from the satisfied sighs and sauce-related wardrobe malfunctions I heard and saw, it was worth every bite. I had a grilled cheese. ‘Cos I’m a rebel.

Afterwards, we went to Dave’s Pub , which is a beerhaus in Five Points. Good atmosphere, decent music (except for the GnR Patience – really, morose drunken man?), and a fairly exhaustive selection of beers. This is because Alabama recently raised the alcohol limit on beer from 5% to 13%. Go, Alabama! Now can we actually serve the beer in the same establishment where it was brewed? No? Alrighty then, no microbreweries for us.

Sunday we went to the Original Pancake House , also in Five Points. We waited just slightly under forever to be seated, but that was to be expected considering that early service church had already ended and we were a party of nine. This left time for an awkward exchange of text messages between me and one of my exes, so there’s always a highlight. I had the egg sandwich, which was incredibly tasty and cheddar-y. Everyone else’s food looking amazing as well, and I seriously considered stealing one of Jayme’s pancakes. This would seem only fair since she snagged Kyle’s rye toast, but I wasn’t quick enough to get the pancake before she ate it herself. Next time I shall be speedier.

That pretty much summarizes my weekend in Birmingham. Suffice to say I will be avoiding food like the plague for the next month or so to repair the damage I did eating three meals a day (who does that?), but for the most part, it will be worth every biteful.

Bubbles Is Dying

She'll fill with water, and then just stop. Then I turn her off, beat her repeatedly, change the cycle, and then she'll go again.

Except today, where I've had to beat her three times just to get through one load. Of course I'm headed to Birmingham tomorrow after work and of course I need the clothes and where am I going to find someone to fix her and when can it be done since I work from eight to five and how am I going to pay for it and what will I do if she's ruined? I can't afford a new Bubbles.

So much for a good day today! I'll be worried all night tonight. Crap.

See you when I get back on Sunday. May your weekend be drama-free and laundry-rific.

Photos Galore!

I managed to wrestle this damn laptop into submission for twenty-five minutes, which is how long it took to transfer the following photos from my camera to the machine. Please to enjoy...

This is where we had lunch. Italian during the day, French at night.



This is the menu. I took this picture for the boy, because I knew I'd never hear the end of it if I didn't get down everything available. There's other photos of the menu, but since none of you are him, I'm assuming that you don't care.



After lunch, we took the Metro down to the House of Representatives Office Buildings. The escalator down was almost a Disney ride unto itself.



We then got to the office buildings and went upstairs, via the elevator. I couldn't believe the elevators had antique wood in them.



This one is of one of the hallways, and can I tell you how incredibly stoked the cleaning lady was to be in this picture?



Next we went through the tunnels to the next office building. Ladies and gentlemen, your tax dollars at work...





These next are the view from my patio. I call it "my patio" because I spent each evening sitting out here, sipping cocktails and talking with the boy. It took complete darkness and an endless need for the ladies' to get me out of my patio and into my room.

Closest to me:



The few behind the bushes:



And finally, the evening view - simply stunning:

Running, Sans Scissors

(Pretend it's last Tuesday.) So as I sat at the airport in DC waiting for my flight to take off, my temp agency called to tell me that I've picked up a gig for the next 4-6 weeks. Cool. The catch? It started last Wednesday. So I've got a cold, a delayed flight, and now, apparently, a job to start at 8:30 the next morning. Perfect. I made it back, did laundry, visited with the boy, changed the bedsheets from where Biggs left me a welcome home present, and got going. I had to call out on Thursday due to the cold, which made me feel like a complete douche. Who calls out on the second day of work? But when I went back Friday, they totally understand, and I think were happy, that I wasn't there. I looked a complete mess on Wednesday, and no-one wants a summer cold.

So now I work, and it's cool, and I'm almost completely recovered, and this weekend the civics competition people that I work for want me to go down to Birmingham and judge another competition. Cool! But I may never get rest again. Also, it sucks to go down there and then not be able to hang out with my friends. But I might be able to sneak something in.

What's that they say? No rest for the wicked? Darn tootin'. And I promise promise promise to get that DC post up sometime this month.

Coming Soon

I know I owe you guys a rundown on everything I did while in DC. And you will have it, soon, I promise. But right now I'm tired, and have a headcold, and just want to rest FOREVER. Plus, I need to grab the photos off the digital so you can see proof that I was actually in the District and not just making up a weekend getaway.

But could I make up sitting on a patio, sipping cocktails and reading a book called I Hope They Serve Beer In Hell, when a car rolls by, bumping Cherry Pie at full volume?

And good news! I should have a new laptop later this month, so I can actually watch videos, and surf the internet, and not burn off my fingers when I'm online for more than an hour.