I think there is some sort of fable-type lesson in this

Something like Chicken Little crossed with the Boy Who Cried Wolf meets...um, the Tortoise and the Hare? No that doesn't seem right.

The Girl who cried Hangover?

I am almost always suspect of people being out sick. I don't know why. I would venture to say that when people call in, and say they are sick, they most likely are. But at the time they call, I always think they're full of shit.

Perhaps it's a remnant from the days I was boss to many a young college student. Then hangover = illness, and 'Phish is playing in Tennessee!' = illness and 'buddy is visiting from the beach' = illness. Considering that most of the people I work with are in their 50s, I doubt any are recovering from a night of tripping balls or hitting the road to follow Steely Dan (? I don’t know, who do 50 year olds think are cool?). It doesn't make me mad or anything. Mostly it's a 'more power to ya' and (wink, wink) I gotcha, you're secret's safe with me ((Shooter MacGavin)).

My boss was out sick yesterday. Knowing her, it's definitely not due to a crazy Sunday night Whiskey binge. But I did begin to put together a theory that she is looking for a new job, and yesterday she was interviewing. I have no reason to think this, but since the drug /drunk scenario doesn't really work, that is what I came up with. So I spent the day thinking of what would happen if she came back and gave 2 weeks notice, and who would do her job, and how freaked out everyone would be (because they would be, totally). And how everyone would depend on me, and I would single handedly save the company and get a huge raise and never have to answer the phone again.

Well, all this grandiose scheming and suspicion has come back to bite me in the ass.

I have the oh so slightest feeling of illness. It started yesterday after lunch but I stuck it out at work because it never really grew into anything. I was convinced I would be hating it by last night, but no, never developed into anything more than a little achy - ness. This morning I surveyed my overall sense of wellness, and seemingly ok, I headed to work. Now I sit here and the aches are back. Not full-blown, but there.

I pray I just get a touch of this bug. Enough to make me immune as it undoubtedly ravages the rest of the office. Likely, since I am still sitting here breathing, breathing, breathing, all my germs into the ventilation shafts and unknowingly (ok, knowingly) spraying spit all over the phones.

At least my boss being sick gives me a sense of legitimacy if I end up going home or not coming in tomorrow. As a result of my skepticism, I assume others feel the same sense of doubt in my reports of illness.

One would think this self awareness, and current state of ick, would foster a change in my distrust. But I know, if someone else calls in sick, I'll think they're taking advantage, timing their bender with health status of the office, so no one will know it's really the 'shrooms.

Sun...the original happy lamp

My father has offered to fly me down to Florida next weekend. He and my mother are currently building a house, or what I like to call 'the grandchild magnet', on the Gulf Coast. Even though J and I don't have kids, I use this label to convince them not to sell it...ever. You see, the land was purchased as an 'investment'. Buy it - build it - sell it. But I will do whatever I can to keep a waterfront beach house in the family, even if it means bribing them with frequent visits from non-existent grandchildren.

He wants me there presumably so I can oooh and ahhhh, but also to help pick tile and paint colors. I am no Nate Berkus (Mmm, Nate Berkus) but I venture to say that my atheistic taste is more keen than dear ol’ dads. My father decorates in the distinct style of square and pointy. Everything is very sleek and clean, and also lacks certain warmth...if it wasn't for his love of natural woods, it would be souless. I blame this on a significant residency in Germany. My mother tries to put her touches in, but it ends up kinda BauHaus meets Crackel Barrel. Not a good look. So I will see what I can do.

My father is not a shopper. I guarantee he will fluster and groan within 20 minutes of the interior decorating discussions. Why would I want to expose myself to such curmudgeonly angst? Florida sunshine...in Februrary! Just what the doctor ordered. I will be lounging by windows and open doors to absorb every stray photon possible, whilst discussing the grout and marble vs. tile developments.

So I hope I can go. It is all hinged on whether the weekends line up or not, and of course there is the phone coverage matrix at work. I am just short of the 2 weeks notice demanded for my coworkers to properly analyze the Nacho-not-at-work scenario. But it's just a day, so one would think...

This will also give me a better excuse to head to the Home Show this weekend, where I plan to spend my time stalking Tom Silva...where I can barrage him with questions regarding converting my ugly old bathroom into a slick and shiny laundry room. To vent up or out the side? Surely a homeowner can sheetrock themselves, afterall it’s just mud! Oh, Tom, you can come help if you want. And bring your camera crew! And that red headed guy who doesn’t really know anything, but can point and act like he does, while drinking hot cocoa and eating fresh baked cookies. That's how serious I am, I will bake for you. And I live sorta near Boston, I think that's some kinda requirement.

Spellcheck Note: It turned aesthetic into atheistic...which is kinda interesting because my father is an atheist. And his atheistic taste is not working for him in the home decor department either. So no edit required.

Don't lie, at least not to Oprah. It makes her mad.

Yesterday was the first day of my new bi-weekly routine of lunchtime 'strength training.' It went ok. I didn't really think I was sore until I drove to work. It's pretty sad when making a left-hand turn causes you to wince. I suppose it's a good sign that I am actually accomplishing something.

Did anyone watch James Frey on Oprah yesterday? Poor guy. I mean, I think he screwed up royally, but that scared and bewildered look on his face couldn't help but make me want to give him a hug, a pat on the leg and say 'it'll be ok." But then I remembered all the dough he was making and didn't feel quite so bad.

I give him credit for showing up on Oprah, though he seemed a little beaten and quiet. Who wouldn’t be? I mean that's Oprah who's all pissed at you. He just sat there, looking mortified, as she spat her righteous anger, followed by applause from the same audience that adored him months before. And unfortunately, he didn't really have much to say.

I feel his worst transgression was not so much in the actual writing of the book, but in the promotion. When asked about some of the experiences he writes about, he replied as if everything was exactly as he wrote it. But as it turns out, some of the 'holy crap, that is unbelievable!' parts of the book, are in the end, not to be believed.

The show frustrated me a little. With all the literary minds and critics she assembled, I would have preferred more discussion on the bigger picture of "where you draw the line." I would think that in general memoirs, especially ones about such topics as addiction, take great liberties to protect the privacy of people who happened to be around the author during the time period depicted. Characteristics are changed - appearance, traits and even habits. Oprah seemed determined to flush out details of the book and some, seem trivial. Like whether Lilly hung herself or not (it turns out she actually slit her wrists). Does it really matter? Does it change the impact of the event? This seems unimportant to me.

You could probably take any memoir and pick it to pieces. Oh they said it was sunny, but I just did a meteorological history of that very day, and it was definitely overcast! Liar.

I suppose it could all be fixed with a disclaimer at the front, which a lot of memoirs do employ. Something that says it is based on certain events and people in the book have been altered to protect privacy, blah, blah, blah. As a reader, I assume this anyway. I suppose turning a hour stay in jail into a 3 month incarceration is pushing it. But other than that, and the dentist thing, the rest seems trivial. I still liked the book. He is still an addict and has things to express, and I can appreciate that. Though if I knew him then, or had been involved in any of those events, perhaps I would feel differently. But memories are subjective...so who's to say.

In conclusion, he fucked up. He was given the opportunity in countless interviews and promotional events to disclose any license he took to change or modify events or people, but did not. And therfore lied, knowingly. But, in the world of lies, these are pretty small...and I think everyone needs to get over the drama and just relax. Read a book.

At Starbucks, I just point at the cup.

J: Do you want a lot of onions, or a little onion?

Nacho: A little onion.

J: Very little?

Nacho: How much is 'very' little?

J: Well, you don’t want a lot, right?

Nacho: No, but I want some.

J: Ok, so a little.

Nacho: Yes, but some.

J: Not a lot.

Nacho: No

J: Ok, just trying to be clear.

My butt triumphs over evil!

So I’m allowed to go. Twice a week. But have to check in every Monday to be sure the nice person who is willing to do next of nothing for and hour will not be so overwhelmed that the company spirals into bankruptcy. I am happy, but it still irks me (can you tell?). We actually had a meeting about it – like 10 minutes ago. I wanted to say that I thought this was ridiculous, but in the end, I’m getting what I want so I should just shut up.

Since I am a Scardy Snark (do you like that! No? well no one else came up with anything) this will be my final word on this situation. All I want to say is that there was no ‘sure, no problem, it’s no big deal’ but the exact opposite like, ‘you better appreciate this, this is HUGE, but we are willing complicate everything so you can go lift heavy things.’

I am aware people are doing me a favor, but since when is that so crazy to expect? Without a major guilt trip attached. I do shit like that everyday for numerous people. I suppose it’s the openendedness of the request. Two hours a week…FOREVER AND EVER. Oh, except if someone is on vacation, or sick, or doesn’t feel like it (seriously, they said that).

Latest excuse not to work out

I need to vent a little. They say you should never blog about work, but it's better than holding it in until I freak out and stab someone in the neck with my scissors.

One of the girls I work with just joined the same gym I belong to. (The one I belong to, but don't go to). She goes every day on her lunch break to work out. I am hesitant to work out at lunch because I sweat, and when I start sweating, it's hard for me to stop. I ask her what her routine is, and she alternates between cardio and strength training every other day. Hmmm, I thought, strength training wouldn't make me sweat so much. And having a work out buddy would make me get off my ass because I care more about commitments I make with other people, than the ones I make to myself! (Hey, make your neurosis work for you, not against you). So, I propose that on Tuesdays and Thursdays we go together and work out. Then, on M, W, F, I would go after work to hit the bike for cardio. Sounds perfect, no?!

Problem. I take lunch 12-1, while she takes lunch 1-2. We have a receptionist, but my potential workout buddy is responsible for ‘back-up’ phone coverage all day. When she is at lunch from 1-2, I do it. So us leaving for lunch at the same time creates some phone coverage vortex that could result in someone other than a pee-on (that’s me!)to have to pick up the phone.

Now, 'back-up' coverage just means that if the phones start going crazy, and the receptionist is busy taking other calls, you have to answer the phone. It's not hard, it's not time consuming, it's not stressful. You just have to put your phone ears on so you hear it ring and look to see if receptionist is on the phone...which is indicated by a light, at your desk, in front of you.

Well, we propose to the 'Powers That Be', that perhaps someone else can cover 'back-up' for an hour. I don't care which hour, I will move my lunch to 1-2 or 12:30-1:30...whatever works. This plan was proposed last week. They are still discussing it. It became such a burden that we changed our proposal to just once a week. That's one day. Or to be more accurate, ONE HOUR. You can't tell me someone can't 'back up' the receptionist for ONE HOUR, once a week. Hey, even split it between two people, so it's a HALF HOUR.I doubt you would even have to answer the phone...ever!

Needless to say I am irritated. Another result of them taking so long to decide whether the company will fall to pieces if someone else almost has to answer the phone, is that they make it feel like they are doing us some huge favor. "Oh, we are willing to have meetings and discussions and make flow charts, just so you two can have your precious exercise..you selfish, superficial little bitches." Ok, so they don’t say it like that, but that’s how it feels.

Ok, I feel better now. I'll let you know what becomes of this conspiracy to keep my butt fat.

The return of winter

It's really coming down outside. Tilted sheets of white dots silently slam the road outside my window. Ok, not my window, I don't have one, but my coworkers window that is situated in a spot where if I lean back, I can see daylight. When it's all done, it will only by 5 inches or so. I'm actually happy. The melt was causing some major ugliness. Gray mounds of evaporating snow are so depressing - releasing the trash from frozen animation. MacDonald cups and soggy cigarette butts lying in DPW sand filled gutters. Not a pretty sight. Now everything is covered in a clean, white quiet. Soft and deep. Pretty...until I have to shove it off my car.

I’m complaining. . .but I’m not

I have not checked, but I’m sure the greater portion of New England bloggers are writing about the weather. It is crazy. I just took a walk at lunch, and according to my biological winter sensibilities, it must be 75 degrees outside. Ok, I just check the weather channel, it’s actually 54 . But considering it should be 12, it seems rather tropical.

I think the trees are confused. Not to mention all the bulbs, used to hunkering down in frozen earth for a 4 month stretch. They must think it’s April with all the warm mushiness and sunshine. I even saw a caterpillar inching across the sidewalk. Poor guy. Mondays low is going to be 24. That little guy will be frozen solid before he ever gets to the metamorphosis stage of his life, surely the only upside of being a caterpillar.

J is a little bummed, since his season pass to Mount Snow is hardly getting any action. I’m almost afraid to enjoy the nice weather, since I am certain Mother Nature will find a way to balance this all out. Probably in April. I can see it now, Spring Blizzard Cripples Northeast. And it will kill all my newly planted flowers, which I always plant too early, with misguided enthusiasm for the return of sunlight.

Though I am bitching a lot, I really love it. Right now, at this moment I love it. But when we plummet back into darkness, and wind that freezes the snot to your nostril returns, the juxtaposition will shock me back into my depressed quilted cave on the couch.

I am usually not this pessimistic. But the reality of New England winter mandates I not count on this lasting very long. It’s like lying on a deserted beach on the last day of your vacation. You mourn the loss of the sun and sand, though you're there, sitting in it.

Small World

When we first moved here, I had a little trouble meeting people. J, being a musician (and all around great guy) did not have much of a problem. He answered a bulletin board add for a drummer, and a new circle of friends was created. These guys would become Js new band. Though they are no longer a band, they still play music and get together now and then. One of them, I will call him TV-Boy, is quite successful in his career, and is the boss man of an organization here in town. He is the only person I know who makes a good wage while actually working in the city limits. I, for instance, do not make much money. J commutes 40 minutes so he can earn the bread we sorely need to keep us in Lean Pockets and Guinness.

Considering the earning potential here is pretty dismal, imagine my surprise to hear that WebGuy was going to be leaving his lucrative (from what I hear) job out West, to move to our very town. Not only am I excited that someone we know, and like (and perhaps has a cool wife!?), will be moving here, I am also happy to hear there are places willing to pay enough to seduce WebGuy. I must know where he is working. Maybe they will hire me too!

I imagined some of the small local web consulting agencies or even perhaps the college had hired him. J was on the case and today he called me to tell me the news. WebGuy was hired by TV-Boy.

We are not yet sure how this colliding of worlds will work. TV-Boy has been informed, and is a little concerned what may become of his "I don’t socialize with employees" rule, as we are sure to welcome WebGuy into our circle with open arms. If TV-Boy still wants to be on our dance card, he'll learn to deal with it. I'm sure any worry will melt away, once WebGuy gets here and TV-Boy and he figure our their dynamic. And it's not like TV-Boys idea of socializing is getting rip-roaring drunk and hitting the titty bars. Though I’m sure he has his 'boss man' persona, it can't be that much dialed back from his normal one. Both guys are cool dudes who, chances are, will hit it off. If not, all the better, because I enjoy me some TV-Boy smack talking. I really like the guy, but now and then he is prone to a little self-righteous finger wagging...

I will stop talking now. Is there a term for this blog fear?* Fear that someone you say something about will read it. I don't want anyone to hate me, because I am like that. Everyone must like me. It’s a problem.

*If a term exists for this, please let me know. If you don't know, I think we should come up with one. How about "blog-fright"? oh that sucks. Or 'afraid of putting your blog in your mouth' not too good either.

Put a cap in my ass

I am running dangerously low on gas. My light has yet to come on, but since my car is new to me I don't yet have that intuitive knowledge of what that would mean anyway. There is no 'Oh gas light! I can drive to and from work 4 more times before I’m actually in trouble.'

So this morning, I bite the bullet and head to the station before work. I pull my little lever, exit my car and walk around to the pumps. I reach to unscrew the cap and um, its not there! My little screwy cap, where is it? Huh. So I begin to fill up trying to remember the last time I put gas in my car, but in the filing cabinet that is my brain, this tidbit of info seems to have gone the way of my Kindergarten teachers name...not important, move to trash.

So, after I fill up and begin my drive to work, I'm a little worried about what unknown purpose that cap serves that I'm now not getting the benefit of. Sure, it keeps fumes from escaping and brings down the evaporation rate. But without this barrier, could I explode?! Surely not, um, right?

My paranoid thoughts continue on to exactly what happened to the cap. After I had filled up, and closed the little door, I noted how unnatural it felt to not first replace and tighten that cap. I am convinced I would have noticed. So I imagine my car sitting in the Stop 'n Shop parking lot and a diabolical mom is scouring the lot for a volvo station wagon, so she can steal their gas cap. The same kind she had absent-mindedly left on top of her roof whilst filling up the family truckster to get to piano lessons. Of course this would only be possible if the door can be opened without the tug on my interior switch.

I arrive at work, get out of my car and walk around to the gas tank. I pull on the door. Shut tight. I dig my finger behind the lip and pull. Not budging. Crap. So I'm the idiot.

So today at lunch I will head to the dreaded Auto Zone, which is conveniently located next to Stop n Shop. Maybe older volvos have unfettered access to their gas tanks? No, I don’t have the balls. Well, not with gas caps. I would like to take this opportunity to apologize to the black Maxima owner who found themselves without a rear left tire nozzle cap last fall. Thank you for your generosity.

Exploring the relation between silicone and the library music catalogue

In the 5 years I have lived in Western Massachusetts I have never gone to my local library. This is sad, not only because it's a phenomenal library (or so I've heard), but it's walking distance from my house. Recently, a friend who lives in Las Vegas informed me her library cataloges a vast array of music, including recent popular music. All you have to do is check it out (um, for free) and then burn to CD at home. This alone warrants my visit because I am stingy and not above breaking copyright laws.

So this week, I think perhaps Tuesday, I will be heading to get my library card. I am hoping to leave the building containing countless volumes of literature and thought, with such 21st Century icons as Prince and The Beastie Boys. There are so many albums I haven't bought that belong in my iTunes!

It will suck if this bit of info is a myth, or not true outside of the greater Las Vegas area. Perhaps the Vegas library's music selection rivals Sam Goody so strippers can practice pole dancing to the newest hits, without shelling out a lot of cash. Sadly, my little New England town lacks a substantial pole dancing population.

Sometimes I go places...

I have embarked on a new blog project. After finishing In A Sunburned Country by Bill Bryson, I am indulging a delusion of grandeur and exploring the world of travel writing. Also, as it claims in my mission statement, I hope to get out of the house a little more. So visitng new and interesting places will give me inspiration to write, and the commitment to writing about such things will, in turn, force me off the couch. At least that is the plan. So far there is just my maiden post, and it's a movie review. I know it's not really travel writing, but got me out of the house nonetheless. The New England cold may keep my critiques to movies and shopping experiences for a while. Perhaps this will sharpen my critical mind, so come Spring when I embark on actual destinations, I will have something interesting to say.

(I put a link in the bottom right corner, if you want to check it out)

Nacho's Angel Network

Thanks again to those of you who participated in Delurking for the Doggies (to be fair they also help cats, horses, snakes, gerbils, parrots ect).

We sucessfully raised $12 for Noah's Wish! Next year, maybe we can send them a $20.

There were a few late comers, but since I already had taken this picture (and I'm too lazy to do another), and the worst fund raiser ever, their visits did not earn $1. I feel bad guys, please know that your effort is appriciated. Thanks for stopping by tpon and d earl griffin!

It's all about ME(me)

FINY is popping my meme cherry (I don't know what 'meme' means, but I've seen it used. I'm not even sure if that is what this is. I could google it, but I'm too lazy to open another window) so here's some interesting (or not so interesting) nacho info:

Four jobs you’ve had in your life
Cashier at a Greek Restaurant
Insurance salesperson (I lasted a month and a half, worst job I ever had)
Bar Owner (the hardest and coolest job I ever had, I still weep about it)
Contract Specialist (most impressive sounding title I have ever had)


Four movies you could watch over and over
Sleepless in Seattle (I know, but it makes me laugh)
Eternal Sunshine of a Spotless Mind
Office Space
Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are Dead


Four places you've lived:
Bad Soden, Germany (born)
Sprinfield, VA (grew up)
Blacksburg, VA (heaven on earth)
Suffield, CT (Ugh, what a bore, thank god only a year)


Four TV shows you love to watch:
Law and Order
THE GAUNTLET
Cash Cab
Project Runway
(I watch other stuff too, really! Smart stuff. I just learned that bigfoot exists! Hey, they call it the Learning Channel for a reason.)


Four places you've been on vacation:
Antigua
Breckenridge
Portland, OR (check out the madness from New Years!)
The Beautiful Outer Banks of North Carolina


Four of your favorite foods:
Dominos thin crust pizza
Crab Legs
Oreos
Red Wine?

Four places you'd rather be right now:
The Outer Banks
On the couch
Visiting Mrs. T
Anywhere where there is warmth and sunlight

Phoning it in

Tuesday night I have a long conversation with my Mom. It begins with her hospital bills* and ends with us both looking at Chihuahuas on Petfinder.com. I have the sneaking suspicion she is, or has been, doing a little drinking.

My relationship with my mother is best explored over the phone. Sometimes I think it forces her to actually listen to me. In person, she gets distracted and will even turn to someone else, while I am in mid-sentence, and ask them a question, completely disregarding the fact that I am talking to her. But on the phone she is my captive. Though she will interrupt me to talk to the dog, or yell at the TV.

My mother grew up in South Dakota, and we talk about her upcoming trip back to the homeland with two of her sisters. There is little family left in Rapid City, save a couple aunts in nursing homes. I only went to South Dakota once that I can recall, when I was 7, to visit my Grandmother. We drove from my Mom’s twin sister’s house in Illinois through the Black Hills, to the edge of the Badlands landing on her Post-War doorstep. I remember little of that trip. I remember being so bored that I cried, so my mom bought us a Slip n’ Slide. I also remember the bruises it left on my hipbones.

Apparently, this was not my only trip to South Dakota. My mother says I have been there no less than 4 times. On the previous occasion (I had been 4) my sister and I got so muddy on a rock hunting expedition** that we had to be hosed down in the front yard. According to her, it was hilarious, which surprises me. I never thought of my mother as one to giggle at dirtiness. I ask her if she has pictures, and she says I think so. I hope that’s true.

I ask her something I have been meaning to ask, but keep forgetting. There is a vague memory of her telling me that someone famous held me as a baby on an airplane. She says 'not quite', and recounts the story of a young mother traveling alone, landing at LAX with a 2 year old and an infant. As the passengers all gather their belongings, my mother fumbles for her baby bags, infant carrier , and purse, all the while keeping a hand free to hold on to my sister. She was a bungled mess of straps and baggage. After realizing none of the flight attendants where coming to her aid, a fellow passenger offers to take the diaper bag and purse and helps her off the plane. My mother looks up in appreciation and realizes that it's Janet Leigh . She doesn't say anything to her, like "wow, you’re Janet Leigh", just accepts her help appreciatively. I imagine Janet, with a 16 year old daughter at the time, feeling compassion for the overwhelmed mother. And I think of my mom, only a couple years older than I am now, traveling alone with a baby and a toddler.

That idea of her is so far off from my perception of her now. I don't think I have fully comprehended her life and all its events and experiences. My idea of her contains only what I can recall, the great majority of that being from her early 40s until now. After she had stopped teaching, had 2 children, and settled into a suburban existence of bridge clubs and soccer. I never knew the version of her that lived in France, or brought home a fistfull of baby rattlesnakes when she was 8. But I hope, with some effort, I can begin to know those parts of her now.

This will be done over the phone.

*If my mother didn’t have health insurance, that little blood clot in her brain would have cost her $17,000.

**Rock hunting is when you go into the wilderness of the Badlands and hunt for rocks. In particular, agates. You spray rocks with a squirt bottle to get the dirt off and see if there are swirlys. I never found anything with a swirly.

So I didn't get stroked, maybe just patted a little.

Well that was interesting. Not alot of action to be had at Nacho Delurking Day. I would like to thank all of you who left a little nugget in the comments section. It is you who gives me the strength to carry on.

Of the 10 comments, 3 were from some regulars (Yay for Amy, Mrs. T and Bret!), 3 were actual lurkers (2 of which I know, Hi Matt and J!) So h0kie erin gets the big delurking award! Which is, um, getting a shout out here! Thanks Erin! The rest were from me, which yes, I am counting.

I would be lying if I said I didn’t think it would go better, but that’s the breaks. The exercise in self-importance that is this blog, cuts both ways.

Next year I will try again, and hopefully it will yield more results. Don’t know if Noah’s Wish will be my charity of choice then, but this year they get a whopping $10 courtesy of you guys! Probably enough to pay for, oh, I don’t know, .75 bags of dog food?

Thanks again my people (oh, you didn’t know? Now, you’re mine. I OWN you).

Onward.

Update: There was one more comment! Girlbomb left one in my Monday post, and I'm no stickler...so now it's $11! Oh, and this gives me a good excuse to link to her HILARIOUS post. If you have been following the James Frey/Smoking Gun stuff at all...she is also a memoir writer. So funny!

Delurk for the Doggies

Editing Note: I orignally started this post on Monday, so I would have it ready to go Wednesday, but even though I didn't publish it until today, it shows as Monday. Not trying to confuse anyone...if you are reading this on Wednesday, please comment. What a freakin' mess. Yay!

Today's the day!

Delurking Day...come on, give it to me.

Well, the least I could is give you something to comment on, huh? Sooooo...

Marcus Vick - does he get drafted into the NFL? If so, what round/team?

If you don't have an opinion, or otherwise don't give a shit, please share a good book...I'm looking for a new one since I just finished A Sunburned Country

Thanks for participating!







Delurking buttons courtesy of Paper Napkin - Creator of Delurking Day.

Nacho Delurking Day - Wed 1/11/06

I mentioned this before, so now is the official announcement.

Wednesday. Wednesday! WEDNESDAY!

I am having a De Lurking Day, Wednesday January 11th.

That means if you come here as a looky-loo, please just say 'hey' in the comments (on wednesday). For every commenter I will donate $1 to Noah's Wish. I will post the entry to comment on the morning of January 11th...you can comment here if you want, but do it again on Wednesday's post to get it to count. My previous post regarding this generated some comments, though I don't think everyone got the concept. Wednesday.

This may end up being a disappointing experiment, I have a sitemeter and it's not too exciting, but who cares. Noahs Wish need that $3!

See you Wednesday!!!

T the Tub of Dog

My dog is not an athlete. I have been watching some crazy dog competition on TV and it has left me significantly disappointed in T. He is no superdog. I tried to call him down from his snooze/drool fest on our bed with "T! Look at the doggies!" but he has no interest. Perhaps he is taking offense. I'm excitedly watching dogs hurl themselves 27 feet over a pool of water, and T can't even swim*. It would be like J watching the Victoria Secret fashion show and yell up "Nacho! Come see these hot girls! Man, they're so hot!"

I must admit that this is not even close to being all T's fault. We have failed him as parents. He has never been to any formal training. His excerise level has MUCH to be desired, especially now that it's 2 degrees outside. He laziness and growing grumpiness must be attributed to us, and us alone.

T does have a few talents. I will share:

Opening screen doors (J taught him that one, brillant!)

He howls when you howl. And I mean HOWL. Very entetaining - to me.

He does this cute sit-up thing when you hold a treat in front of him. J doesn't like me to do it. Says it's humiliating.

He can pop some bubble wrap like a mofo.

His paws smell like Fritos. Ok, not a talent, but my feet don't smell like Fritos.

Dripping nose juice on the couch.

Smearing nose juice on anything that nose juice may cause harm to (leather, for instance).

Barking at the mailman. Cliche, I know, but true.

Is eating a talent?

Um, sleeping?

Ok, towards the end they became less like talents and more like annoying habits. But we love 'im..tubbiness and all.

J - I know you have something to add to this list. I know you come here. Show yourself.


T is sleeping so I took is pic. If you look close, you can see the nose juice dripping. Can't see it? Click on the pic and get a close up of the juiciness!


He woke up after I took his picture.

*T is a Labradore, which makes it all that much worse that the boy can't swim. I still blame this on the fact that when he was 8 months old, J threw him in the lake. Scarred for life.

Marcus isn't the only one to go

I mentioned that I would be revamping my Hokie Blogroll, but as per usual, I was feeling too lazy to make my brain think in HTML or CSS or as I call it "random placement of letters and numbers." I am new to this stuff, and it is so not intuitive for me. However, I did manage to get a little done. If any people on my blogroll don't like their little description, I will reliquish the writing to you, and will change it to whatever you would like, within reason of course.

You may notice it's gotten a little trimmer over there. Yep, some people got the axe. Such "permanent dismissal" requires a statement from the administration, so here it goes:

Brooklyn Hokie - Hasn't shown up since the Miami game. Too bad because I like any blog with "Hokie" in the title.

Fenway Lane - I had high hopes for this blog, as I am a Hokie/Redsox fan as well. But no post since the ACC loss? And one post at that. But I will say that if he/she gets up and running, I will gladly put them back on.

Desi - The picture of Michael Vick on the sidebar had me gladly add this blog when I found it, but hasn't said boo about the Hokies or VT once.

The following blogs are on probation. Like Beamer, I believe in second chances, but don't perform and you're history!
(I'm not linking because they're right over there on the side...don't be so lazy people.)

Gorilla - Was going to get the boot, but just posted, so I'll keep you on for a while. Just keep 'em coming.

Ekletos - Lots of Hokie stuff here, but rarely an update. I hate to click in vain.

VA Tech Thought and Ponderings - First, posts not so often. Secondly, he doesn't have comments working. So if your not going to provide the content, the least you can do is let your visitors make it interesting.

And I would like to give a big shout out to Andrew at Turkey Talk. I thought he was gone forever after the ACC loss, but the same day I asked where he went, POOF! he appears. So he remains at the top of my list, since he is my source for Hokie info. Keep on bloggin' Turkey Talk!

Now, on the CSS/HTML note : you may notice when you click on "Hokie Bloggers Unite" it takes you to the above link of "my liberal pie hole" not to mention underline EVERYTHING. I have tried and can't get this to stop. Please help. Any ideas of what is going on?!!

Thanks. Oh, and I'm adding someone new. Hanni, though not really into Hokie football, is a Hokie nonetheless, and one funny bitch. So I'm going to add her too. I noticed after she dropped by, she clicked along the blog roll and visted some of the peeps over there. So she's cool in my book.

Later.

UPDATE:I figured it out...problem solved! it was and unclosed 'a' tag.

wow.

he's gone. I feel bad for his mom. Yikes, PTI guys are harsh. I need a glass of wine.

Move on down

I know you are amazed at my debate skills. Whenever the term 'fucktard' is employed, you can be sure the arguments made are rational and cogent. I am not going back on my point there, not at all, it's just the snarkiness is not me. It was me, just then, just then when I was pissed, but now, eh. So here's a post so my rant will scroll and it's not the first impression you get here at Nacho. But of course, now that I say that, anyone who falls upon this blog will surely go down to see what I am talking about. Hmmph.

I am home now. It's Friday, yay! I usually blog from work, but I figured I'd have a Guiness and do a little here. I am planning to do a little more work on the Hokie Blogroll. Many of those links do not really go anywhere, like I said, one post ponys (ponies?). So if I have linked to you, and you want to stay let me know. Hokie Explorer, Bret, Dan, Tom have nothing to worry about...hi boys. And Turkey Talk, where did you go?! Was the ACC loss really that bad? The rest are to go under scrutiny. Look out!

Speaking of Hokies, I was going to say something about this Marcus thing, but I need to roll it over a little more. Needless to say, I am disappointed, and little embarassed. It's hard to defend a program to its retractors and then have someone undo it, making you look like a moron. Don't get me wrong, I am standing by my Hokies, but Beamer has some work to do. Um, we'll see. It's still too raw to talk about. I think he may be gone, and I am feeling that that is not a bad thing.

Hey, now that I've breached the subject, does anyone know what will happen if Marcus does get booted? Can he play somewhere else? After the Johnny Damon betrayal, wouldn't it just be perfect for him to go to UVA or FSU. God, I would laugh. He probably belongs at Maryland, now that I think about it. Turtle Waxers are fucktards.

Ok, rambling and the snarkiness is coming back. Just passing time. Everyone have a great weekend!

I'm breaking one of my rules

It doesn’t feel like Friday. I actually forgot it was Friday until I pulled into the parking lot this morning. I suppose that’s because it’s only been a three-day workweek for me. Usually, the way a weeks duration feels vs. it’s actually length is inversely proportional. I know I’m not the first to make this astute observation, but (add best Seinfeldian stand up comic tone) why is it that short weeks seem so long?! What’s the deal with that?

Don’t answer that. It’s not an interesting question.

But do you know what is an interesting question? How long will Christians allow this fucktard to portray himself as their leader?(No, I am not above name calling) Come on people, speak up. You don’t agree with him. Don’t let his abnormally large head and strangely Bush-like smirk scare you into thinking that he may be right. Use your brain. Or at least your faith. Faith, not fear, ok? Seriously, how much does God roll his eyes at this idiot?

Now I urge you, brethren, keep your eye on those who cause dissension and hindrances contrary to the teaching which you learned, and turn away from them. For such men are slaves, not of our Lord Christ but of their own appetites; and by their smooth and flattering speech they deceive the hearts of the unsuspecting. (NAS, Romans 16:17-18)

I sorta decided not to get political/religious here. I decided it wouldn't be my forum for that kind of expression. But it was the straw people. In a heap of many. The last little one on a gigantic pile my poor camel has had to carry. And now he's on his knees, all broken up, and it makes me mad. So there.

Vent over.

Now for a new pile...but, first I need another camel. Maybe Penelope will let me have hers.

The Hunt

To understand what Portland Madness was, check out my original post of Wacky out West...I'm not going to link to it because I'm lazy, ok.

So this shindig Matt put together with some friends was awesome. 25 or so people running around the city creating curious looks and mayhem at every turn. It started by teams registering and paying their $20 to participate. The $20 went to the after-party and grand prize...which I think was $200. Each team was armed with a list of tasks to complete and photograph, a team mascot, and for some of the more adventurous, team uniforms. We were pirates...Aaarrrgh!

And the winners for the funniest costume was............



The unicorns! (I told you there were unicorns) The number on the dry erase board conincides with the task number on your hit list. This one is #12, one pic of three showing the team using each mode of public transportation available in Portland.


Since our host Matt was the orginizer, our team didn’t participate in the competition portion, but always willing to make fools of ourselves in strange cities, prize shmize.

I could go on and on about the night, but like they say, a picture is worth a thousand words.


Shiver me timbers! Our team doing #4 - team human pyramid at a bus stop.



Ei Matey..we needs some provisions to keep off the scurvy!
#20 Team at the Co-op grocers "thoroughly examining the produce"



Every pirate really wants to be a rock star.
#25 -Team rockin' out to the Areosmith sign at the Civic Center.


Rain Ahoy! Sheild us from the weather or you'll walk the plank!
#2- Team picture with the "umbrella man"

And god, there is so much more, and it's HILARIOUS. The other teams basically kicked our asses and got a ton of stuff done. Tasks included break dancing at union station, kung fu fighting at the ice rink, and shopping at the dildo store (one team even got a picture of boobies! though it wasn't on the list...hmmm.) I however have limited patience with uploading photos so, in a salute to them, here is a Starbucks pic from them all...25 points for each picture in front of a different one. Needless to say, the city's full of them.







Thanks Matt, Jodi and friends. It was a blast. Next year, we'll kick your ass.

Back from the great Pacific Northwest

So much to talk about, but my lack of sleep and jet lag precludes the spinning of witty tales of waterfalls and unicorns. Doesn't it sound magical? And I'm not kidding, there were both waterfalls and unicorns. I will be able to share events in an entertaining manner once my brain reboots with a good night sleep.

In the meantime, I want to share with everyone one thought on Portland. Although I really did like it there (on many levels), I could not live there. My hair is not cool enough. And with continuous rain and mist my long waged war against the natural fuzz state of my hair would surely fail. Needless to say, the whole bangs situation would have to be rethought. And without bangs, I would definitely dip a few notches on the hip meter, which in Portland goes pretty high.

I heard a wise man say some dudes were getting "all Brit-Pop on my ass." Which puts it perfectly. Not only do I lack the style or hair type to sufficiently feel at ease, the fact all the boys are way skinnier than me and have cooler jeans is just depressing.

Perhaps if they were getting all "70’s funk" on my ass, I’d do better.