Yeah, you. I'm looking at you. Anyone reading this is a big fat sinner now (although I think we already were anyway). You may or may not have heard, the Pope released a whole new set of sins yesterday. They even have their own category, Social Sins. Apparently we have to update our list of sins when we become smart enough to commit them. These new sins are:
- 'Bioethical' violations (like birth control)
- 'Morally dubious' experiments (like stem cell research)
- Drug abuse
- Pollution of the environment
- Contributing to the widening gap between rich and poor
- Excessive wealth
- Creating poverty
Raise your hand if you've committed any of these sins. Wow, that's a lot of hands. Hey, is it me, or are the last three all interrelated? If you have excessive wealth there is less money for everybody else, automatically widening the gap between rich and poor... which means you commit three sins at the same time and there's not much you can do about it. That hardly seems fair. For a guy with a specially made popemobile in every city he visits the Pope seems to really hate rich people.
You know what's really nice about being a Atheist? When the Vatican tells you that you suck, it doesn't matter. I know I don't suck. I lead a moral life and it has nothing to do with fear of what's going to happen to me when I die, and everything to do with being raised by two moral parents who taught me how to make my own good choices. And yeah, I'm human, I make mistakes. But it's okay, I apologize to the person I've wronged and worry about their forgiveness here on earth, now, instead of what some fictitious judgmental floating trio holding a list of sins I forgot to admit to a priest says about letting me in the pearly gates. I've got way too much stress in my current life, I don't need to be worrying about the afterlife too.
I got back a week ago from a wonderful ski trip to Summit County in Colorado. Went with my mom and Homer, and we were joined for two days by Greg at the beginning of the week, and skied a day with Jerry and Jenna at the end. Even though I missed a day due to a re-emergence of bronchitis, and wasn't able to ski my best the last two days, it was a really great trip.
Here's a nice picture I took on our last day of skiing, driving back from A-Basin to the condo in Frisco. I've posted more pictures in the album Gone Skiing 2008. Enjoy!
Dear Insane Suicidal Shooter,
Please refrain from shooting others. If you are crazy and want to kill yourself, please feel free to do that in a private setting of your choosing. There is no need for others to join you on your trip to the big nowhere. There is no reason to scare the hell out of an entire campus and their families who have a family member attending that school, as well as students and families of students around the country. And there is absolutely no call to take the lives of six kids who have barely even set off in life.
Worst Regards,
NIU Alumna
NYC loves condoms on Valentine's Day. I still think it's great. No sappy love crap, just go out and "get some." So New York. They've changed the packaging, although it's still not all it could be. I still like the design concept I co-developed with Jerry last year to have different skyscrapers on the packages. I've got to make a call to the city and get that design out for next year.
Did you know experts have long linked heart trouble to sports fans? I don't think anyone would be surprised to hear that fact. Let's see, what could be the cause? Perhaps consuming beer, chicken wings, potato chips, beer, chili cheese fries, little hot dogs wrapped in croissant and more beer while sitting on your ass instead of walking around out in the world has something to do with it. Nah, couldn't be all that stuff. Must be something else.
That's right, it's the stress of the game. Feeling that your team could lose can cause you so much distress your heart gives out. Call me cruel (go ahead), but if a dude is so wrapped up in sports that he can experience stress on a level that causes a grabber during the big game, that person kind of sucks. Now, if it's caused by all the beer guzzling and fried food-eating, that's fine. That's a real reason. Especially in Chicago.
I was pretty excited two weeks ago when I got my interest check from my apartment security deposit escrow account. $2.48 richer, I went out and splurged. Let me tell you, the only thing that tastes better than a McDonald's cheeseburger and small fry is a free McDonald's cheeseburger and small fry. Just when I thought life couldn't get any better, I get this puppy in the mail:
This second check was accompanied by a letter telling me that due to a bank error the original check I received was for an incorrect amount and I was owed more money. And just like that I was nine cents richer. Sweet!
But how to spend my newfound wealth? I can give one cent to nine of the guys on the street asking for "just a penny" for the homeless. I can call my step-sister in Bonaire for 5 minutes on Skype. I can buy 4 two-cent rate change stamps and leave the last penny on the ground for someone to find for good luck. I can go back in time to 1970, borrow a penny from someone and buy a Hershey Bar.
Hmmmm, all of these sound good. How would you spend nine cents?
I'm still here. Just been a little busy/sick/full from work/winter/holidays. I'll be back soon with new tales of NYC. Until then, enjoy this picture of the women's restroom in a Macy's in the suburbs of Chicago.
Not the way to win hearts in a city that hates you, Macy's.
I received a postcard in the mail today from my high school in Illinois requesting my biographical information for a graduate directory. It brought up a question I've thought of from time to time when people get notices for reunions and such; How did they find me? Since graduating from college I have moved nine times. Nine times between three states. I only keep in touch with one person from high school, and she lives in the middle of Australia with her husband, a new baby and emus. She's got better things to do than rat me out. I have no registered phone number. I'm pretty sure most of my friends and family lost the e-mail I sent with my address. The only people who know I'm here are the ones who send me bills every month, and they shouldn't be giving my info to a high school (maybe they do). On top of this, the printed postcard is addressed as 'Lori', which is not my given name, and not how I am ever registered anywhere. So I wonder, how the hell did they find me?
Perhaps our mascot, the Fighting Hornet, is omniscient.
So last night I was invited by my friend Natasha at work to go to a swanky party. A while back, before I worked there, Iomedia did the visualization for a condo building at the top of Central Park in lower Harlem. Esquire magazine bought the penthouse and had different designers create the individual rooms. They are using it as a party venue. Because we did the work, occasionally the developers can get us on the list for these parties. I was lucky enough to tag along with Natasha and the rest of the crew to this even with Bill Cosby as a special guest.When we got to the entrance we weren't on the list! Devastating! Didn't they know who we were? They didn't, but took our names down and let us in anyway. Man, is it easy to crash a party. We listened to the shpeal from Bill and others about helping kids in disadvantaged neighborhoods, and then the bar opened. As I was waiting for my drink Bill made his way through the crowd and was 3 feet away from me. I freaked out, there was nothing I could say. Mom told me I should have just said "Hi." Greg said I should have asked if he wanted any pudding. I always have felt that celebrities are just people, but when you are standing next to someone who has influenced multiple generations of comedians and who really seems like a good guy, its hard to think of what to say that won't sound retarded. So I just smiled and let him go.When we finally got our drinks we toured the apartment, hung out in front of the fireplace on the bi-level terrace and gave a very nice man who works for Esquire a hard time for not giving red velvet cupcakes to Eugene's pregnant wife Allison. Alright, it was Eugene giving him a hard time, and it was funny. Or we were drunk. Maybe both.
As we left the red carpet downstairs was still lit but abandoned, so we took a few red carpet pictures... cause we are such big shots. Here's me making fun of the red carpet poses...
Oh yeah, I could totally be someone, if you didn't already know I was no one.
On Saturday night I went out with some friends to a Halloween party on the Lower East Side. I was so excited because I put a TON of time into my costume this year. I was committed to going as She-ra, and since you can't buy a costume, I had to make mine. With the help of my very crafty friend Natasha, I pulled it off perfectly.
Here's a picture of Shannon and me, she's a Freudian Slip (there's a slip under that jacket).
On the way to meet Shannon a few girls on the street asked if I was Wonder Woman. I said no, I was She-ra. They asked, "Is she like and Egyptian Wonder Woman?" I replied, "No, she's a super hero from the 80s, you guys probably weren't even born yet." To which I was curtly corrected, "Hey, I was born in 89!" Touche.
On the subway a whole car of people again thought I was Wonder Woman. I'm still puzzled by the WW confusion.
Also on the subway one woman recognized the costume and asked to take my picture. That was pretty funny. Oh yeah, I'm somebody now.
Once at the bar there were a bunch of people that recognized She-ra, and they all loved the costume. There were two guys who were dressed as the Dick in a Box guys, and that was pretty good. I stopped to compliment and chat with them but they didn't know who I was. One of them though I was some kind of Grecian superhero... I guess I can see that. But since I decided before going out that I wouldn't entertain any boys who didn't know who I was (because they would be too young), I had to move on.
I had a funny short conversation with a pirate guy as I was waiting for my drink at the bar:
Guy: You're cute!
Me: Thanks.
Guy: So what are you? Other than cute?
Me: She-ra.
Guy: Is that from Chronicles of Narnia?
Me: Um, no.
Guy: Well, you look really cute.
Me: Thanks. *smirk* Bye.
When I turned with my drink there was a guy dressed as a Ghostbuster. He recognized She-ra and we had a little "We love the 80s because we were born before the decade started" moment.
It was a lot of fun seeing all the costumes people had on. There were lots of pirates, Wonder Women, and slutty whatevers. I was pretty slutty too, but that's not my fault... that's just how She-ra rolls.
I saw a presidential candidate on the street today across the street from my office. He has no shot at winning, but I would vote for him. I walked right past Stephen Colbert. I wish I had stopped to say something, but I never do. I figure that I don't like being bugged out on the street, a celeb must hate it. So I left him alone to continue his conversation.
I must be getting more "New York"... I'm finally starting to recognize celebrities out in the world. Sweet.
I hate science. Just when the science guys convince you that your drinking habit is helping your cholesterol it turns out it's also giving you cancer. Want lower blood pressure? Have some dark chocolate... but you had also better head to the gym to burn off the extra calories. What these dichotomies are basically saying (to me) is that you should choose your vices based on what you would like to die of. Because, let's face it, a life without a few vices is a life not worth living. So you'd be healthy and prolong a really boring existence. Not for me. I'm off to buy some chocolate with liquor in the middle.
I've been in NY for a year, and I keep missing celebrity sightings (Derek Jeter doesn't count, I was there to see him, it's only a sighting if they are out on the street with the real people). Celebs pass me by, and people tell me, "Hey, that was what's-his-name!" But poof, they are gone. In my second week here Mark Ruffalo sat down right next to me at lunch and I didn't even notice. Michael Kors walked right past Jose and I on the street... didn't see him. But today I finally saw someone. It was someone most people probably wouldn't recognize, but I sure did. As I was buying Halloween candy at Duane Reade I was watching Michael Patrick King direct his people on how to set up the store for an upcoming movie shoot. A Big movie that everyone (at least all the women) in New York are talking about. A movie that is leading to celeb sightings all over town because the city is one of the characters and it would never be filmed anywhere else. Do you know which movie? Michael Patrick King is the producer, writer and sometimes director of Sex and the City, and he was setting up a shot for Friday. For me, he's a big celebrity. Maybe I'll go back on Friday and see if they need any extras!
I was riding the subway the other day, sitting across from a woman and her child, who looked to be around ten years old. They were eating something, not sure what. When the train pulled into the station I watched her unapologetically toss their garbage in the bag outside the door and onto the station platform. I couldn't believe it. I looked right at her. She saw me and just looked away, but not in any way that conveyed she felt badly about what she had done. Then, a few stops later her kid was halfway through a lollipop that he decided he was finished with and she told him to wait until the doors open and toss it out. He got up, waited for the doors to open, and aimed the lollipop right through the gap and dropped it onto the tracks. She praised him for making the shot. I was absolutely amazed.
Now, I get why people litter; they are lazy, they don't care, they don't respect shared space or the city they live in, they have no sense of human decency, etc, etc. But what I don't understand is this: How did she come to the conclusion that it is wrong to litter on the train, but perfectly acceptable on the platform? I continue to be baffled.
In fact, I did... meet Derek Jeter. And shared a little giggle with A-Rod. And saw all the other players, coaches, trainers, keepers and security people for the Yankees, and the Toronto Blue Jays for that matter (including Frank Thomas, who used to play for my hometown White Sox). We were camped out for two hours before the game directly outside the door to the Yankees clubhouse, waiting to get the shot of Jeter. The weight room and batting cages happen to be down the hall from there for both teams, so just about everyone walked past. And if I might just make one comment to all of Major League Baseball... nice ass.
Even though I'm not a big sports fan, I have to admit it was pretty cool to be down there before the game... even if I did have to get up early-ish after another night of staying out late drinking. What? It's the New York lifestyle, or something like that. Yeah, I totally turned my brain off again.
As promised, I've posted some new photos to my Out and About in NY album. Some are from when I went walking around with Jerry and Jenna a few weeks ago, but after that are some choice helicopter shots. Enjoy!
I've been working a lot lately. Way too much. Most nights I'm in the office late, checking in at home, and then working at least a few hours each weekend day, if not for an entire day. Somehow its easier to work 10 hours if you can do it with Sex and the City on the TV. Of course you have to really like Sex and the City. (How could Carrie have cheated on Aidan? That bitch drives me crazy in season three.)
The reason behind my pseudo-complaining about work is this; while I definitely feel overworked, I also feel like I'm having a lot of fun (read: drinking a lot). I realized today I don't have a ton of the down time I used to when I would just kick it on the couch and watch my ex-TV Boyfriend. I'm either ramped up working or ramped up drinking, with not a lot in between. And I'm not having just a glass or two of wine like I used to. I'm drinking for mileage. It's like I'm trying to cram all the fun into the few hours I have, and I'm not making wise decisions.
Case in point: Jenna invited me to a BBQ at her friend Kathleen's on Saturday. I've been to another one and loved everyone there, so I shut down the computer for the afternoon and scheduled some fun time, fully expecting to be back home and working by 9pm. Um, yeah, that didn't happen. I was drinking sangria all day and was then very easily coerced into playing Flip Cup by a bunch of Aussies with cute accents. Freakin' foreigners. It doesn't really matter how you play, but it does involve way too much cheap beer. PBR and Bud Light to be exact (what is with me and drinking beer lately?). I was hammered, and I had absolutely turned my brain off at some point. Sometime before Flip Cup for sure.
Apparently this is how I've fallen into dealing with stress these days. Probably not the best solution, but it could be worse. I haven't completely fallen apart... I still eat well and make it to the gym to run and bike my ass off (literally; my skinny jeans from last year are now my "relaxed fit" jeans... sweet). My body used to remind me that I was stressed by creating painful stomach aches, in case I had forgotten for a second that the world was falling down on me. That sucked, so this is much better.
So, if you end up with strange text messages from me in the coming month, I haven't actually lost my mind, I've simply turned my brain off. It'll be back on the next morning when you are welcome to call and make fun of me. Just don't laugh too loudly into the phone.
It's Saturday afternoon, and I'm taking a break from work to write this post. That's right, it's Labor Day weekend and I'll be working at least today, if not tomorrow as well. The Reason: The Yankees. Right now the project is flying wildly out of control, and I've got to pull it back together. The only time I actually have to do this is after work hours when people aren't constantly asking for stuff. So I'll be organizing like a mofo this weekend.
This project has quite a cast of characters, one of which is the interior designer, who is a very nice man... but couldn't take longer to make a point. Andy and I were on a conference call with him yesterday for an hour and a half that should have taken 45 minutes max. At this point in a very long week I was tired of working and Andy was just plain old tired. Delirium had set in and we were acting quite silly on our end of the line. He went and got a beer, ugh Corona, and was entranced by the bright green color it turned when he put it in front of the projector. I left shortly after and returned with an Amstel Light. That's right people, the Yankees have driven me to drink... beer. And I wasn't even drunk first. Armageddon is clearly upon us.
