I've been a bad girl. No posts for weeks and weeks! Plenty to talk about now.
Hubbie and I went on the world's longest four day vacation evah. On Thursday, it felt like Wednesday had actually occurred a week ago. By the time Sunday came around, Wednesday felt like the previous summer. Seriously. The California wine country was astounding.
We traveled with my friend Steve, his sister and her friends. Everyone was younger than us - Steve's only one year younger than me, but you wouldn't know it by the way he acts. He's in, shall we say, a transitional period in his life. And that transition apparently requires a lot of lubrication with alcohol.
Steve's mental age is about 25, and everyone else was pretty much fresh out of college. Hubbie and I felt like the elder statesman and the matriarch of the trip. At one point, each of us ended up sitting at the head of the table staring across this great expanse of wood, lording our age and wisdom over everyone else. Or something like that. We did end up organizing more than 50% of the trip - but only because neither one of us has the patience to sit around and play the, "Oh, I dunno, whatever you want to do is fine..." game. We're too old for that shit.
We're also DINKs - double income no kids - so we bought a LOT of wine. Beautiful chardonnays, a merlot I actually liked and truckloads of pinot noirs. We bought more wine than I honestly know what to do with. I can't wait for the packages to arrive!
I guess I should talk about the title of this post - New Car. We bought a new car! A Beamer! (See the DINK thing, above.) We had thought we'd be sensible with perhaps a new Volkswagon GTI. Sexy, fast and five doors - sounds pretty much perfect. Then the evil hand of advertising intervened. BMW has a lease deal on now advertising a 3 series for about $350 a month. Yes, there is fine print and no, no one really actually gets the car for $350 a month. But the idea of a BMW would just NOT go away.
And somehow, Hubbie negotiated a deal. We're getting a 328i wagon (!) with a stick (!) for about $60 more a month than the VW. Five doors! Wagon-y goodness! (I love me a good wagon. I like the large carrying capacity, fast wagons are cool since no one expects speed from a wagon and sticks in wagons are just sexy. Sorry, they just are.) We won't get the beast for six weeks... but I can wait!
Showing posts with label fast times. Show all posts
Showing posts with label fast times. Show all posts
Tuesday, October 16, 2007
Sunday, April 22, 2007
WRROooooooowwww
Houston Grand Prix 2007. The American Le Mans series. Cool, actually innovative cars going ripshit fast for two hours and forty five minutes. The race was preceded by hours and hours of ancillary activities - celebrity go kart racing (predictably enough, a Shuttle pilot won), driver signings (I got my hat signed by all four Audi drivers) and more junior racing series races. Hubbie and I went for all three days and got pit passes for the Champ car race today.
Now, let me tell you what my problem with Champ car races - one company makes
all of the engines. Likewise, one company makes all of the chassis. Where's the innovation? No incentive exists to push technology further in races like these. Bah, humbug.
Give me the ALMS! Each team has a different ride using different technology. And the technology makes a huge difference. Audi runs a twelve cylinder diesel. (Diesel! In a race car! How cool!) Mazda has run a rotary Wankel engine in the past. Acura (Honda) just entered the series this year - and unfortunately they beat the Audi team. My boys - Dindo Capello & Allan McNish - came in third. The second Audi team came in something like fifth.
Anyway, I loved the races. Fun fun fun! Some pictures below:
The Audi drivers. From back to front - Allan McNish, Dindo Capello, Emanuele Pirro & Macro Werner.
The diesel Audi (aka the TDI) and the Acura. The Acura eventually won. Bastards. The TDI is eerily quiet - like a whisper compared to everything else out there. It reminded me of a ghost... gliding by on a whispery cloud of air. So cool.
The Corvettes were the meanest sounding machines. Meaner than the Panoz, who took the cake last year. Last year's Panoz still sounded cooler than the 'Vette - deeper, angier, more thuddy.
Pit lane as set up for the Le Mans series. See, the gas caps were on the wrong side of the car for the Houston race. They're on the correct side of the car for 24 hours of Le Mans... just not Houston. (Houston's place on the racing pecking order is fairly clear - WAY below the 24 hour races.) So the teams have these long arms to refuel the cars. Pretty cool, huh? And a nifty picture.
Now, let me tell you what my problem with Champ car races - one company makes
all of the engines. Likewise, one company makes all of the chassis. Where's the innovation? No incentive exists to push technology further in races like these. Bah, humbug.
Give me the ALMS! Each team has a different ride using different technology. And the technology makes a huge difference. Audi runs a twelve cylinder diesel. (Diesel! In a race car! How cool!) Mazda has run a rotary Wankel engine in the past. Acura (Honda) just entered the series this year - and unfortunately they beat the Audi team. My boys - Dindo Capello & Allan McNish - came in third. The second Audi team came in something like fifth.
Anyway, I loved the races. Fun fun fun! Some pictures below:
The Audi drivers. From back to front - Allan McNish, Dindo Capello, Emanuele Pirro & Macro Werner.
The diesel Audi (aka the TDI) and the Acura. The Acura eventually won. Bastards. The TDI is eerily quiet - like a whisper compared to everything else out there. It reminded me of a ghost... gliding by on a whispery cloud of air. So cool.
The Corvettes were the meanest sounding machines. Meaner than the Panoz, who took the cake last year. Last year's Panoz still sounded cooler than the 'Vette - deeper, angier, more thuddy.
Pit lane as set up for the Le Mans series. See, the gas caps were on the wrong side of the car for the Houston race. They're on the correct side of the car for 24 hours of Le Mans... just not Houston. (Houston's place on the racing pecking order is fairly clear - WAY below the 24 hour races.) So the teams have these long arms to refuel the cars. Pretty cool, huh? And a nifty picture.
Sunday, November 05, 2006
Camping!
I finally talked the husband into going camping. We went down to New Braunfels, TX for Wurstfest, stayed at a campground on the Guadelupe River, and drank copious amounts of beer.
All of which are good things. But the best thing was definitely our tent. Why, you might ask? 'Cause a) it was free, b) it was freaking huge c) we were actually able to put the damn thing up in the dark. It has these huge, nearly 1.5" diameter poles - they're heavy as all hell. And there weren't any drawings or directions or anything - just two drunk (and possibly high, knowing them) guys, my tired husband and myself. But we did it! The thing went up, didn't fall over, and kept us sheltered for the night.
Of course, the other fly in the ointment was the fact that the stupid thing doesn't have a rain fly. And, of course, the next day we all started feeling raindrops.
Oops.
Luckily for us, it was a false alarm and nothing more drenching than a drizzle. But we would have been in major trouble if the rain had actually come.
On another note, we pretty much had the campsite to ourselves. We reserved three spots - which amounted to the square footage of a freaking postal stamp - but ended up using seven. Hee! We pretty much had our own little tent city. Everyone else's tent was nicer than ours, but ours was the tallest, so that's something.
I also met the oddest human ever. I can't decide if Billdo (yes, that's a reference to dildos) is the greatest waste of carbon on the face of the planet or simply a marginally likable, no more intelligent than he needs to be guy... but not quite as much of a waste as I initially thought. The first night Billdo was the biggest cockbiter I had ever met, but the second night he slowed down into a mostly-normal human. I can't decide which Bill is the real one.
But anyway, hubbie and I are going to buy a tent (with a rainfly, thank-you-very-much) and try this camping thing again sometime soon. Yup.
All of which are good things. But the best thing was definitely our tent. Why, you might ask? 'Cause a) it was free, b) it was freaking huge c) we were actually able to put the damn thing up in the dark. It has these huge, nearly 1.5" diameter poles - they're heavy as all hell. And there weren't any drawings or directions or anything - just two drunk (and possibly high, knowing them) guys, my tired husband and myself. But we did it! The thing went up, didn't fall over, and kept us sheltered for the night.
Of course, the other fly in the ointment was the fact that the stupid thing doesn't have a rain fly. And, of course, the next day we all started feeling raindrops.
Oops.
Luckily for us, it was a false alarm and nothing more drenching than a drizzle. But we would have been in major trouble if the rain had actually come.
On another note, we pretty much had the campsite to ourselves. We reserved three spots - which amounted to the square footage of a freaking postal stamp - but ended up using seven. Hee! We pretty much had our own little tent city. Everyone else's tent was nicer than ours, but ours was the tallest, so that's something.
I also met the oddest human ever. I can't decide if Billdo (yes, that's a reference to dildos) is the greatest waste of carbon on the face of the planet or simply a marginally likable, no more intelligent than he needs to be guy... but not quite as much of a waste as I initially thought. The first night Billdo was the biggest cockbiter I had ever met, but the second night he slowed down into a mostly-normal human. I can't decide which Bill is the real one.
But anyway, hubbie and I are going to buy a tent (with a rainfly, thank-you-very-much) and try this camping thing again sometime soon. Yup.
Thursday, September 28, 2006
Beantown!
Yeah for us! We're in Boston for an interview (for a fellowship position for me) and a little wee vacation (for the both of us). I've done the interview and I have the usual post-interview headache. Just as soon as I get back to where-ever I'm staying, something in my brain declares war on the rest of me.
I just raided my host's medicine cabinet and stole 800mg of ibuprofen. I hope it kicks in soon.
Meanwhile, I'll sit on the couch and watch VH1.
Then it's time for candlepin bowling, which is the shiz-nizzle. Okay, okay, okay, that web site is shyte, but at least it lays out the rules of this truly awesome sport.
Okay, okay, okay, calling it a sport and not a drinking game is a stretch, but let's keep that opinion to ourselves until I get back out of New England. Capiche?!?
I just raided my host's medicine cabinet and stole 800mg of ibuprofen. I hope it kicks in soon.
Meanwhile, I'll sit on the couch and watch VH1.
Then it's time for candlepin bowling, which is the shiz-nizzle. Okay, okay, okay, that web site is shyte, but at least it lays out the rules of this truly awesome sport.
Okay, okay, okay, calling it a sport and not a drinking game is a stretch, but let's keep that opinion to ourselves until I get back out of New England. Capiche?!?
Wednesday, September 20, 2006
Doncha just hate it when...
I hate it when I brush my teeth in the morning before having anything to eat and I see in my sinkbowel a popcorn shell.
'Cause then I realize the last time I had popcorn was a week ago at the movies.
I hate that.
'Cause then I realize the last time I had popcorn was a week ago at the movies.
I hate that.
Tuesday, August 29, 2006
Birthday manners
I am very proud of myself. I was confronted with blatant rudeness, immaturity and poor manners and I didn't point them out.
Now those of you who know me understand how rate it is that I keep a handle on my tounge. I lack 'the filter.' You know, the one that catches all the crap that the ID really wants to say before it gets out of the mouth. Since I don't have said filter all sorts of detrious comes flying out of my mouth when I'm perterbed.
But for once, I reinforced that filter with titanium wire and the bitch held. Why, might you ask? Because I was at a birthday dinner. A birthday dinner for a woman that I really like, but don't know all that well.
And she doesn't know me all that well. She knows that I'm loud, that I can burp better than 90% of the college fraternity population, that occationally I'm a mean drunk and that I suck at karaoke. But she's never seen me truly mad.
Fortunately for her.
So I couldn't very well unleash a can of well deserved whoop-ass on her professed best friend. 'Cause after all, this was A's birthday freaking dinner.
But hot damn, the BFF so deserved it. (For those of you not versed in pre-adolescent girl lore, BFF stand for best friend forever, biatches.) My friend A had warned me that BFF was, "loud and opinionated." Um, no. She's a f*cking brat. Here's why:
1) She shows up to her best friend's dinner 55 minutes late.
2) She immediately starts texting at the table... the traditional Japanese tatami, butt firmly on the floor, special 'cause we planned it that way table.
3) She starts yelling about how bad the service at the restaurant is, despite the fact that prior to her arrival, the staff had been doing an admirable job handling a party of 15. After her arrival and loud disparaging comments, service mysteriously slowed. What a twist!
4) Because the service is 'slow', she declares that she is not buying any of her own drinks. Oh, and did I mention that this was A's twenty first birthday? Uh, exactly who should be getting the free booze?
5) She then complains about the long hours she puts in at architecture school. Now, architecture students do put in crazy hours. But please, BFF needs to remember to check her attitude at the door when she's talking to a bunch of people who, on average, are at least five years her senior. Why? 'Cause us old fogies have realized that, well, college only kinda matters. Don't get me wrong, be cool, stay in school! But until the quality of your work determines your income, the safety of a building or, um, life or death for some poor kiddo... just cool it. We've all been there, we'll sympathise some, but not if BFF is yelling about her woes at 10 million decibels and clearly believing that she is clearly working harder than anyone else at the table.
Just to remind you, all of this was at her best friend's birthday party.
Now, kind viewers, did I smack her down? No. For once in my life, I didn't. Only because I respect A. And I like her boyfriend.
But people, realize that I'm NOT going to keep a lid on my mouth next time. Screw it, the immature bitch needs a little smack around.
And I'm just the docta to do it.
Now those of you who know me understand how rate it is that I keep a handle on my tounge. I lack 'the filter.' You know, the one that catches all the crap that the ID really wants to say before it gets out of the mouth. Since I don't have said filter all sorts of detrious comes flying out of my mouth when I'm perterbed.
But for once, I reinforced that filter with titanium wire and the bitch held. Why, might you ask? Because I was at a birthday dinner. A birthday dinner for a woman that I really like, but don't know all that well.
And she doesn't know me all that well. She knows that I'm loud, that I can burp better than 90% of the college fraternity population, that occationally I'm a mean drunk and that I suck at karaoke. But she's never seen me truly mad.
Fortunately for her.
So I couldn't very well unleash a can of well deserved whoop-ass on her professed best friend. 'Cause after all, this was A's birthday freaking dinner.
But hot damn, the BFF so deserved it. (For those of you not versed in pre-adolescent girl lore, BFF stand for best friend forever, biatches.) My friend A had warned me that BFF was, "loud and opinionated." Um, no. She's a f*cking brat. Here's why:
1) She shows up to her best friend's dinner 55 minutes late.
2) She immediately starts texting at the table... the traditional Japanese tatami, butt firmly on the floor, special 'cause we planned it that way table.
3) She starts yelling about how bad the service at the restaurant is, despite the fact that prior to her arrival, the staff had been doing an admirable job handling a party of 15. After her arrival and loud disparaging comments, service mysteriously slowed. What a twist!
4) Because the service is 'slow', she declares that she is not buying any of her own drinks. Oh, and did I mention that this was A's twenty first birthday? Uh, exactly who should be getting the free booze?
5) She then complains about the long hours she puts in at architecture school. Now, architecture students do put in crazy hours. But please, BFF needs to remember to check her attitude at the door when she's talking to a bunch of people who, on average, are at least five years her senior. Why? 'Cause us old fogies have realized that, well, college only kinda matters. Don't get me wrong, be cool, stay in school! But until the quality of your work determines your income, the safety of a building or, um, life or death for some poor kiddo... just cool it. We've all been there, we'll sympathise some, but not if BFF is yelling about her woes at 10 million decibels and clearly believing that she is clearly working harder than anyone else at the table.
Just to remind you, all of this was at her best friend's birthday party.
Now, kind viewers, did I smack her down? No. For once in my life, I didn't. Only because I respect A. And I like her boyfriend.
But people, realize that I'm NOT going to keep a lid on my mouth next time. Screw it, the immature bitch needs a little smack around.
And I'm just the docta to do it.
Sunday, May 28, 2006
Happiness and Computing
So we sold my car. Very sad... but also quite good. I had a 2002 WRX. It looked something like this -
But mine had more dents and less miles. Her name was the Folley, 'cause I bought her when I really really really should have been conserving my cashflow.
Ripshit fast, and able to carry $800 of Ikea furniture home in one trip. How cool is that? Alas, she needed to go to a new home, so we listed her on Autotrader and she sold in less than a week.
She went to a good home... I think. He's a student in College Station, TX and his Dad's a cop. If I find out that he wraps her around a tree while drunk, I'm gonna find him and open up a can of whupass! Then again, I'll probably have to get in line behind Daddy dearest, but that's fine with me.
Anyway, with all of our new moolah, we'll actually be able to afford the final steps of making me a doctor. There are fees inside of fees, people! If I had known (I guess they told me about this cash hemorrhage... ONCE... when I was an INTERN and couldn't see past the next call night, let alone three YEARS into the future) I would have been saving pennies for a while now.
But I didn't. 'Cause I'm dumb. Hence, the selling of the car. But even the State of Texas and the American Academy of Pediatrics won't be able to spend the entire sale cost of the Scoob. Yippee!
So guess what I got. Just guess. You get three tries...
Okay, no, that's not it.
Hint: It weighs about 5.6 lbs and is Energy Star compliant.
No, but you're getting closer.
Hint: It comes in a sexy black box.
Almost!
Hint: It has a 2.16 GHz Intel Core Duo processor.
That's right, I scored a totally sweet MacBook Pro! And 'cause I live with a computer super-God, he insisted that I trick the sucker out. Maxed out the RAM, the good graphics card, the second largest hard drive, the three year protection plan... Super Duper Sweet! The damn thing even has a remote. WTF? Why does a computer need a remote? I don't know, and I don't care! It's just freaking cool.
Next on the list with our cash... garage door opener. Not nearly as sexy. But useful.
Meanwhile, I'm gonna keep playing with my new toy. Ciao!
Tuesday, February 28, 2006
We Won!
Hubby and I decided to go out to a nice neighborhood pub to have a beer. Just to meet some folks who, well, never showed up.
But that's okay.
'Cause we won stuff.
What did we win? A raffle. A raffle we didn't even pay to enter. The folks just down the bar from us knew they were leaving before the raffle draw and gave us their stubbs.
Yeah - and we won.
Again - what did we win? A New Belgium Brewery bike. Yeah - we won a bike. How cool is that?
But that's okay.
'Cause we won stuff.
What did we win? A raffle. A raffle we didn't even pay to enter. The folks just down the bar from us knew they were leaving before the raffle draw and gave us their stubbs.
Yeah - and we won.
Again - what did we win? A New Belgium Brewery bike. Yeah - we won a bike. How cool is that?
Tuesday, February 14, 2006
Mindsets
So, when you expect to do something easy and brainless... and then the rules change, your day is thrown off.
Of course, I really don't mean to speak in the second person. I mean to speak about me.
I had a day today, when I thought all I had to do was secretarial shyte. And then suddenly, I had to take care of really sick kids. ICU style kids. Blargh. The brain stutters.
But ultimately, the kids and I will be alright. Aww yeah.
Of course, I really don't mean to speak in the second person. I mean to speak about me.
I had a day today, when I thought all I had to do was secretarial shyte. And then suddenly, I had to take care of really sick kids. ICU style kids. Blargh. The brain stutters.
But ultimately, the kids and I will be alright. Aww yeah.
Sunday, February 12, 2006
All cultured and stuff! (And neon excretions of bizarre origin.)
Well, we had a weekend of culture. The first in a while.
Normally, I'm the kind of gal that likes to go to the mega-plex and watch testosterone-laden men to blow stuff up. Or watch sexy muscular women like Mila Jovovich or Michelle Yoh blow stuff up.
But not this weekend.
We started out by by bowling. I know, I know, not high culture. But hey, cheesy American culture isn't something we indulge in often. Then there was the Basquiat. Yes, I actually went to see art. Real art - the kind actual art critics actually write about. Normally, I avoid this stuff like the plague. 'Cause hey - I'm crass. But this was fun. It helped that copious amounts of booze and music by DJ Grandmaster Flash. It was the biggest party I have ever attended. The entire Houston Museum of Fine Arts was packed with hipsters - and these people were stupid enough to let me in! Hah! We came, we saw and we conquered. Very cool.
Next was Japanese drumming. Not only is that multicultural, which makes it intrinsically cool, but we also knew someone in the group. How cool is that? Taiko is definitely fun to watch. The drumming was awesome and the visuals were very cool. At one point, the drummers held these massive drums between their knees while lying on the floor. They then flexed their abdominal muscles to rear up and beat the drums. So very cool.
A good weekend all-around, topped off by some free booze from my boss and a game of Settlers with good friends. But now on to other topics...
My pee has turned neon yellow. Ya know that ever-so-slightly greenish neon yellow of the mid-1980's? Yeah, that's my pee. Before it was routine yellow of urine. As with any urine, it fluctuated between yellow and dark yellow with my relative state of hydration. Now it is just neon. Why, you ask? As a doctor, am I clueless why this has happened to me?
No, my friends, I am not.
It's my damn vitamins.
I've been a good little breeder and started taking prenatal vitamins well before getting pregnant. I got my vitamins from Central Market, an upscale tree-hugging (but excellent) supermarket nearby. My vitamins include the standard neccesary ingredients for prenatal health... but they also include various foodstuffs like spirulina, wheat grass, barley grass and alfalfa (leaf) juice concentrate.
So yeah, my pee is straight out of a bad 80's movie. But I need the vitamins. What is a girl supposed to do? The answer - suck it up!
Normally, I'm the kind of gal that likes to go to the mega-plex and watch testosterone-laden men to blow stuff up. Or watch sexy muscular women like Mila Jovovich or Michelle Yoh blow stuff up.
But not this weekend.
We started out by by bowling. I know, I know, not high culture. But hey, cheesy American culture isn't something we indulge in often. Then there was the Basquiat. Yes, I actually went to see art. Real art - the kind actual art critics actually write about. Normally, I avoid this stuff like the plague. 'Cause hey - I'm crass. But this was fun. It helped that copious amounts of booze and music by DJ Grandmaster Flash. It was the biggest party I have ever attended. The entire Houston Museum of Fine Arts was packed with hipsters - and these people were stupid enough to let me in! Hah! We came, we saw and we conquered. Very cool.
Next was Japanese drumming. Not only is that multicultural, which makes it intrinsically cool, but we also knew someone in the group. How cool is that? Taiko is definitely fun to watch. The drumming was awesome and the visuals were very cool. At one point, the drummers held these massive drums between their knees while lying on the floor. They then flexed their abdominal muscles to rear up and beat the drums. So very cool.
A good weekend all-around, topped off by some free booze from my boss and a game of Settlers with good friends. But now on to other topics...
My pee has turned neon yellow. Ya know that ever-so-slightly greenish neon yellow of the mid-1980's? Yeah, that's my pee. Before it was routine yellow of urine. As with any urine, it fluctuated between yellow and dark yellow with my relative state of hydration. Now it is just neon. Why, you ask? As a doctor, am I clueless why this has happened to me?
No, my friends, I am not.
It's my damn vitamins.
I've been a good little breeder and started taking prenatal vitamins well before getting pregnant. I got my vitamins from Central Market, an upscale tree-hugging (but excellent) supermarket nearby. My vitamins include the standard neccesary ingredients for prenatal health... but they also include various foodstuffs like spirulina, wheat grass, barley grass and alfalfa (leaf) juice concentrate.
So yeah, my pee is straight out of a bad 80's movie. But I need the vitamins. What is a girl supposed to do? The answer - suck it up!
Friday, February 03, 2006
The Goodness of Jhonen Vasquez
Now, I'm not saying Jhonen is going to win any of the same awards as Mother Teresa. But I love the man. He's goth, he's ridiculous, he was successful, and I'm pretty damn sure he's not obese. What more does a girl need?
(Besides 5'5" of computer programmin' lovin' that is.)
Anyway, Jhonen did a cartoon series for Nickelodeon a while back that is just as sick and twisted as his original comic book work. It was called Invader Zim. I've always wondered how the f*ck JV managed to get the child friendly folks over at Nick to agree to this show. It doesn't have the murder that Johnny the Homicidal Maniac posessed, but it wasn't exactly, well, sane.
(On a side note, JTHM is just about the sickest graphic novel I've ever read. The casual and hilarious violence is totally appalling if you stop to think about it. Which is why I don't.)
The whole premise of Invader Zim is based on the idea that every society has a loser - a big pink Twinkie sucking loser. Someone so dumb they can't even be trusted to empty the trash. Now imagine a race of people so eveolved that they have stopped fighting each other and everyone is united under a single goal - the utter domination of the rest of the universe.
Okay - now understand that the protagonist of Invader Zim is the utter idiot of his society. He's considered so dumb that he's sent off to conquer the least significant planet in the galaxy... Earth. Just to get him out of the way, ya know.
Hilarity ensues.
Trust me, watch it at 8:30pm on Nick. It's so worth it!
(Besides 5'5" of computer programmin' lovin' that is.)
Anyway, Jhonen did a cartoon series for Nickelodeon a while back that is just as sick and twisted as his original comic book work. It was called Invader Zim. I've always wondered how the f*ck JV managed to get the child friendly folks over at Nick to agree to this show. It doesn't have the murder that Johnny the Homicidal Maniac posessed, but it wasn't exactly, well, sane.
(On a side note, JTHM is just about the sickest graphic novel I've ever read. The casual and hilarious violence is totally appalling if you stop to think about it. Which is why I don't.)
The whole premise of Invader Zim is based on the idea that every society has a loser - a big pink Twinkie sucking loser. Someone so dumb they can't even be trusted to empty the trash. Now imagine a race of people so eveolved that they have stopped fighting each other and everyone is united under a single goal - the utter domination of the rest of the universe.
Okay - now understand that the protagonist of Invader Zim is the utter idiot of his society. He's considered so dumb that he's sent off to conquer the least significant planet in the galaxy... Earth. Just to get him out of the way, ya know.
Hilarity ensues.
Trust me, watch it at 8:30pm on Nick. It's so worth it!
Thursday, January 26, 2006
20$ Chucks!
And I don't mean chux, the lovely blue disposable towel of medical fame. I do mean Chucks, as in sneaker goodness. And for once, I really do love eBay.
Now, the coolio pink and black two tone Chucks may look very similar to the ones I have. But lo, beware young Jedi, for they are not. The tounge - it will be pink! And anyway, my current set of Chucks are downright sorry. The rubber piping is peeling from the side and the whoel dang pair is just dirty. DIRTY I tell you!
Now, I could have just bought it now for $23, but I stuck my neck out and put in a bid. I ended up winning the auction for $10 + $10 shipping - viola! $20 Chucks. Magic, I tell ya, magic!
Now, the coolio pink and black two tone Chucks may look very similar to the ones I have. But lo, beware young Jedi, for they are not. The tounge - it will be pink! And anyway, my current set of Chucks are downright sorry. The rubber piping is peeling from the side and the whoel dang pair is just dirty. DIRTY I tell you!
Now, I could have just bought it now for $23, but I stuck my neck out and put in a bid. I ended up winning the auction for $10 + $10 shipping - viola! $20 Chucks. Magic, I tell ya, magic!
Friday, October 21, 2005
Oddest baseball viewing experience ever
So my hubby and I went to the Nine Inch Nails concert on 10/19 - the day of game 6 in the Astros/Cards NLCS. Needless to say, we were quite torn. But hey, we bought the tickets and paid our money, so off we went to the Toyota Center.
After milling around and checking out the (not so stellar) opening band we decided to try to find a TV. And we did. We proceded to watch the Astros kick Redbird booty surrounded by fishnet clad goths - all of whom were screaming their heads off. And not just one kind of goth, but many flavors. We had catholic schoolgirl goths*, raver goths, old-school goths, punk-rock goths and industro- goths**. The ringleader of all the screaming was a classic - tall skinny dude with a plain black t-shirt over fishnet, black leather wrist cuffs, ringed collar, tight black bondage pants, black shit-kickers, heavy eye make-up and dyed, spiked black hair.
His favorite chant was, "Fuck the Redbirds!"
I have never seen a group of goths that animated about anything. Including front row seats at a NIN concert (which I had the privledge of obtaining twice in my life). Pretty freaking amazing.
But don't worry, hubby and I left the bar in time to see Trent. Mmmmm... Trent.
*Bible toting goths? What the fuck?!?
** Yah gotta wait for the second and third picture to come up on the slideshow to see the examples of indstro-goths. Sorry about that.
After milling around and checking out the (not so stellar) opening band we decided to try to find a TV. And we did. We proceded to watch the Astros kick Redbird booty surrounded by fishnet clad goths - all of whom were screaming their heads off. And not just one kind of goth, but many flavors. We had catholic schoolgirl goths*, raver goths, old-school goths, punk-rock goths and industro- goths**. The ringleader of all the screaming was a classic - tall skinny dude with a plain black t-shirt over fishnet, black leather wrist cuffs, ringed collar, tight black bondage pants, black shit-kickers, heavy eye make-up and dyed, spiked black hair.
His favorite chant was, "Fuck the Redbirds!"
I have never seen a group of goths that animated about anything. Including front row seats at a NIN concert (which I had the privledge of obtaining twice in my life). Pretty freaking amazing.
But don't worry, hubby and I left the bar in time to see Trent. Mmmmm... Trent.
*Bible toting goths? What the fuck?!?
** Yah gotta wait for the second and third picture to come up on the slideshow to see the examples of indstro-goths. Sorry about that.
Tuesday, June 28, 2005
Thursday, June 02, 2005
Riding the night
For the next three days, my life goes topsy-turvy. Why? I'm the nightrider. I'm half of an expert team holding down the fort in the pediatric EC at a community hospital all night long. The really fucking scary part about nightriding is that the supervision is miniscule and backup nonexistent. At night in this particular EC, there is no attending (ie liscenced) physician - only residents. That's right - absolutely no one with actual pediatric board certification can be found. Just two residents. And why would you want anyone training in pediatric emergency medicine in an emergency room, that's crazy talk! Residents are good enought!
Not to mention, nightriding totally destroys my circadian rhythm. My skin goes crazy. My mood plummets. My fish starve. Working from 8p - 8a isn't very compatible with most of life's little details, like getting to the bank. Sure, I could go after work, but by then I'm delusional, grumpy and nearly homocidal. Not a good combo when visiting a bank. I've also got to find time to get my car registered and I think I would have seizure if I had to visit the DMV after a night at the EC. STAT benzos, please, the doctor is seizing.
Yargh. See you on the flip side, people.
Not to mention, nightriding totally destroys my circadian rhythm. My skin goes crazy. My mood plummets. My fish starve. Working from 8p - 8a isn't very compatible with most of life's little details, like getting to the bank. Sure, I could go after work, but by then I'm delusional, grumpy and nearly homocidal. Not a good combo when visiting a bank. I've also got to find time to get my car registered and I think I would have seizure if I had to visit the DMV after a night at the EC. STAT benzos, please, the doctor is seizing.
Yargh. See you on the flip side, people.
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