"Americans are forever searching for love in forms it never takes, in places it can never be....

...it must have something to do with the vanished frontier." - Kurt Vonnegut, Jr.

Yeah, so I saw the G-bomb guy again last night.

You know how sometimes you meet someone, and you find yourself thinking about them more and more, and you figure you've built the whole encounter up into something more than it is? Like, you must be projecting some sort of fantasy onto this person - you don't really know them well, so you fill in what you don't know with what you wish they were, and the sparks you keep thinking about are really just a figment of your overactive imagination. When you actually come face-to-face with that person again, you'll wonder what all the fuss was about, right?

Huh. Not so much.

Let's just call this guy Berger - if you've never watched Sex and the City, then you won't get that, but just go with it.

It sucks when you've managed to talk yourself down from the dangerous ledge that is a developing crush on a guy with a girlfriend, only to spend another evening being carried right back up to an even higher one. Because the thing is, I now know that it WASN'T just me - Berger enjoyed hanging out with me a lot. He told me so. He notices things about me...the jewelry I'm wearing...the way I look without my glasses on...really absorbs the things I say to him...if he were available, this would be about the time he would be asking me out. But he's not, so instead I'll go at least another couple of weeks without seeing or hearing from him - just long enough to convince myself I really don't like him that much after all - only to repeat the cycle all over again. And the fact of the matter is, I know I'll do just that. Because I can't obsess over or encourage myself to continue this crush, because it's just an exercise in futility. But I also can't just stop liking someone I click with because it's so rare that I run into a personality that strikes a good balance between complementing and challenging my own. Of course, if he really does turn out to be my Jack Berger, it's a blessing that he's taken, because he'll only end up dumping me via Post-It and honestly, who needs that? So here's how I'm feeling about the whole situation:

think i'm going for a walk now
i feel a little unsteady
i don't want nobody to follow me
'cept maybe you
i could make you happy you know
if you weren't already
i could do a lot of things
and i do
...
y'know, i don't look forward
to seeing you again soon
you'll look like a photograph of yourself
taken from far far away
and i won't know what to do
and i won't know what to say

-Ani DiFranco, "Untouchable Face"

Oh, and speaking of challenges, I now have it on the authority of not one, but TWO heterosexual men that the VGLM is, in fact, very good-looking. One said, and this is a direct quote, "you need to tap that. That is all." Of course, the problem there is that while he may be single, he's probably even more untouchable than Berger. I mean, people make it sound so easy - don't you think I WOULD have tapped that by now if it were possible? The VGLM is so out of my league it's not even funny. It's not like I can just walk up to any guy I want and say, "Hey...you...c'mere. You and me. Let's go." Some women can pull shit like that off - I am SO not one of them. And I'm having a hard time figuring out what "my league" is these days anyway. So...yeah. Maybe that eharmony thing will help me figure it out, because I'm feeling kinda lost here.

In other news, I fell down a flight of stairs last night, so think of me as I try to let my tailbone heal for a couple of days. If I sound a little extra mopey, it's because being confined to a chair with nothing but a heating pad and ice pack with which to amuse yourself does tend to break your spirit a bit. But at least I did meet some more really cool people last night, even if they do all think of me as the dumbass who fell down the stairs. But better to be infamous than not famous at all, right?

Thursday Tidbits

A handful of things I need to comment on this evening:

1. I just dropped $15 on marked-down assorted chocolates in red foil and/or heart shapes. And something called Tandoori Sizzler! Doritos. You can really taste that exclamation point.

2. I had my first Dim Sum experience today. This is v. exciting - as I think everyone reading this knows, I'm a bit of a foodie who spent seven years trapped in northern Indiana, where the selection of good ethnic eats is...shall we say...a wee bit lacking. And while I was raised by foodie parents, they are cheap foodie parents and eating out is not something we did except on exceedingly rare occasions while I was growing up. So I've had to develop most of my tastes via meals prepared by my parents or myself at home. Now, we are collectively quite a culinary force to be reckoned with, but dim sum is a decidedly "out" experience - you can't really do it at home, because the whole point is to watch the carts going by and pick out the things that look good. Plus, it helps to go with actual Chinese people who can tell you exactly what everything is so you can choose wisely. I'm a big fan of any food experience where the food comes to you in small amounts so you can get a little bit of everything to share with the group. This is why I am very sad that the tapas trend ended before I moved somewhere trendy enough to have a tapas bar. You may logically conclude from this that I also love buffets - this is where you would be wrong. You'll notice I specified that the food a) comes to you and b) in SMALL amounts. This is why the buffet concept does not work for me - I take too much food, and end up feeling sick and stuffed, overwhelming the pleasures of sampling diversity. Plus, I rarely find food on buffets that is as piping hot and fresh as the delightful little plates of dumplings and buns that wander by in dim sum. So yeah, I'm officially a fan. And I have to thank my new Chinese labmates for taking me, even though it does make me increasingly bitter towards my old Chinese labmates at Purdue who always made us go to greasy, flavorless Chinese buffets because they "can never find anything good to eat at American restaurants." It's so nice to have easy access to REAL Chinese food. And a big kung hei fatt choi to you all.

3. Reasons Ugly Betty is effing awesome: a) "Make it work." b) a decidedly Lost-esque sequence c) a decidedly My Name is Earl-esque sequence d) a decidedly Project Runway-esque sequence e) Henry e) Justin performing the entire score of Hairspray on the subway f) Henry and Betty FINALLY...WAIT...WHAT THE HELL??? HOW DARE YOU!!!! g) Lucy Liu h) Jerry O'Connell (wait...seriously? Can someone tell me how exactly THAT ends up with Rebecca Romijn???) i) whatever the song is playing over the final sequence.

4. There is no #4.

5. Dear Grey's Anatomy: Please stop this story arc. You're obviously trying to create a plotline that will evoke the drama and intensity of 9/11. I normally enjoy the outlandish melodrama, but only because it is outlandish. You are trying to stir up feelings that are all too real and fresh in the memory of the American people and introduce silly melodrama into that emotional framework. It is exploitative, and it needs to stop. I can't believe we still have another episode and a half of this crap.

6. Oh, and I am now officially a member of eharmony.com. In all honesty, I'm not optimistic, but hey, they were running a Valentine's special, so what the hell. I'll keep you all posted - it should at least make for some interesting blogging material, and I'm about due for a reminder that no date at all is better than a bad one.

When arrows don't penetrate... Cupid grabs the pistol

Happy...eh, whatever. Sorry, folks, I just don't have it in me. Don't get me wrong - I think all of those "Valentine's day is a greeting card holiday" people are kidding themselves. Yeah, it IS a greeting card holiday...it IS pretty meaningless in the grand scheme of things...but no matter how cynical you are, you can't help but take stock of your romantic life on February 14th. It's kinda like New Year's that way - somewhere there's an unwritten law that says you have to feel lonely if you don't have someone, and be madly in love if you do. The problem is, most people I know don't have great Valentine's Days. Most of the time, I'm not with anyone on V-Day, and when I am, I find I have less than stellar celebrations for this holiest of crap holidays. You're either emotionally checked out of a relationship but don't have the heart to break up with them right around Valentine's, or you're involved in a relationship where the OTHER party is checked out. Even when I've been dating someone I was really into (and vice versa), it seems there's always some reason that a great romantic evening just doesn't happen. It's one of those things (again, not unlike New Year's) where you have such high expectations that really can't ever be lived up to. That being said, I've spent a lot more Valentine's Days alone than I have with anyone, checked out or not. And being a single girl of a certain age, I have resigned myself to certain rituals because they simply cannot be avoided:

1. Watch some sort of romantic movie
2. Drink copious amounts of wine
3. Buy heart-shaped box of chocolates on clearance
4. Wallow
5. Repeat as needed
6. (optional) Buy self flowers because dammit, they're pretty

Now this year I was smart and did (1) and (2) early - over the weekend. The movie of choice this year: Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind. The wine: the cheap sauv blanc I alluded to in my previous entry. Usually I do the truly masochistic thing of a Before Sunrise/Before Sunset double-header, but I think I've hit on something with Eternal Sunshine. First of all, the movie takes place on Valentine's Day - that has to count for something. It always makes me cry, but doesn't leave me depressed. This is important. The problem with the BS/BS-DH is that it makes me yearn. Those movies appeal to my idealistic, sappy, hopeless romantic side, and make me long for that kind of ridiculous, passionate, imperfect and yet somehow ideal romantic connection - the sort of thing I mock ceaselessly when reality show contestants talk about it. Eternal Sunshine, on the other hand, is about what love really is - again, ridiculous, imperfect, and passionate - and usually finite. I often say that a person's greatest strength is often closely intertwined with their greatest weakness - that which we most pride ourselves on is often a clue to what we are most insecure about, and similarly, that which we love and find adorable in another person at first, we eventually resent and find irritating. Love, and relationships, need to be dynamic to survive. In my personal experience, I know I'm really in love when someone can thoroughly irritate me and yet I still think to myself, "I love this person" - the interactions change... some degrade while others strengthen... your very definition of what it is to love someone changes... and whether the relationship lasts or doesn't, you learn something just by feeling. Even when it doesn't work out - even if you KNOW it's not going to work out - loving someone is still worth doing. It may sound trite, but that's comforting to me. My Magic 8-Ball may have lied to me (it said I would go out on a date by Valentine's Day, and I've got approximately...40 minutes to go and am thinking it's a bust) but maybe someday soon I'll find someone brave enough to say, "Okay." In the meantime, I offer you, my humble readers, a wee Valentine:

There. Now you can tell your friends you got flowers for Valentine's Day.

Serving Suggestion

I just had to share my menu for this evening:

Mojo shrimp, served over a napa cabbage and red pepper slaw, dressed in a lime/cumin/cilantro vinaigrette. Accompanied by a cheap but quite enjoyable Chilean sauvignon blanc.

Simple, but INCREDIBLY tasty.

DAMN I'm good.

When you are lonely, let it shine on...

The sun is out!!!

Or...at least it was.

Seriously - I needed my sunglasses when I walked to the grocery store this morning. I had forgotten how bright the world can be when the sun is shining brightly and the ground is covered in snow. And it's a balmy -6 outside - spring has sprung!!!!

Okay...maybe not. But seasons are in the eye of the beholder, right? And compared to a week ago, it feels freaking fantastic outside. Plus, I've been looking for an excuse to post my sunflower picture, because, while there are many technical things I don't like about it, I still think the flower is awfully pretty, and I haven't posted a photo in a while. So, with that, I shall resume my busy schedule of what the squirrel I saw this morning doesn't have the good sense to do - hibernation.

P.S. - hazelnut and french vanilla coffee + a little half and half + a scoop of hot cocoa mix = mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm

Play-by-play

Okay, in lieu of having proper fans to watch the game with me, I have decided to live-blog it. However, since I seriously doubt anyone will be reading this live, I will break with the typical live-blog format and write my latest entries at the bottom, thereby eliminating the need to scroll to the bottom and read in reverse order. To those of you sensitive to such things, I feel the need to warn you that there will be copious amounts of foul language involved. I can't help it...it's football, and my team is the underdog so I am preparing for the worst.

5:55 pm: Tuning in to the end of the preshow. Am seriously freaked out by presence of freaky harlequin cheerleaders. Am not sure whether or not to be freaked out by the marching band dressed as actual Chicago Bears - pads and helmets and all. My head says yes, but my heart says no, oh dear God no.

5:56 pm: Aforementioned Window Cooler Plan (WCP) has been abandoned due to inability to open said window. Not sure if swelling of window frame due to condensation or aforementioned Ass-Coldness of outdoors is to blame. Have substituted with Big-Assed Beer Mug Plan (BABMP), involving ceramic beer mug hand-crafted by my very creative but possibly slightly alcoholic brother. Mug is large enough that should it be necessary, it can hold two complete beers. Beer of choice is Laker Red, my current favorite Cheap-Ass Canadian Beer (CACB)...bourbon is Evan Williams Single Barrel (to make up for aforementioned CACB)...shot glass of choice is my prized Amish Country shot glass, because I do so love glassware with a sense of irony.

6:01 pm: Super Bowl commercial about significance of getting to the Super Bowl is about to make me cry. I mean honestly...how much must it SUCK to be the older brother to Peyton AND Eli Manning???? And digging up old high school geometry teachers is just too much. HOO-RAH!!!

6:03 pm: DAMN my chili and bread smell good. Can't believe I have to wait an hour before I can eat them.

6:10 pm: You know, in a straight up head-to-head mascot battle, the Bears have it hands-down. I mean, a colt can be wild, it's got a good kick, but a Bear? He's got big fuckin' fangs, and big fuckin' teeth. He's not looking at those big fuckin' fangs and big fuckin' teeth and thinking, "How am I gonna do it? How am I gonna kill the colt?" One swipe to the jugular vein and it's goodbye, horsey boy.

6:19 pm: Billy Joel just sang the national anthem. Now I have to give him props for an understated and classy rendition, but in the words of Randy and Paula on American Idol, it was a little pitchy. Anyone who doesn't believe me when I say that our national anthem is really FREAKING hard to sing, I submit this as Exhibit A. But thank you, Piano Man, for not embellishing it beyond recognition like everyone else seems to.

6:27 pm: OH HOLY SHIT!!! Now THAT'S how you start a football game!!!!

6:32 pm: They just commented on how the crowd is definitely favoring Chicago - this is my primary problem with the Colts. Indiana is NOT a football state - the fans are just too fickle. It's easy to be a fan when your team is doing well, but that's not truly supporting the home team. Back in the day when the Colts sucked ass for so many years, nobody was a Colts fan. Bears fans are real fans - they are devoted and loyal, no matter how badly their team sucks, and they follow their team when they're doing well and going somewhere big.

6:37 pm: Kickoffs returned for TD: 1
Interceptions: 1
GO BEARS!!!

6:47 pm: Peyton Manning, why you gotta break my heart? Smith, thank you for dropping the snap on the extra point. That, my friend, is what they call closure.

6:51 pm: Hagler, you sonofabitch. Who greased the ball??? WHOA!!! HELLZ YEAH! Whoever greased the ball, THANK YOU!!!

6:55 pm: My GOD I love this game!!!

7:02 pm: Watching the Colts offense, I am left with one question: Why so many Mannings?

7:04 pm: SONOFABITCH.

7:10 pm: Still not out of the 1st quarter, but am already getting seriously pissed off at the clearly pro-Colt commentators.

7:14 pm: In a lame act of cross-promotion for a lame new sitcom, they cut to the cast members in the stands. WOW does David Spade look wasted.

7:34 pm: Me + Peyton Manning = the love that dare not speak its name.

7:35 pm: Shit! ShitshitSHIT!

7:38 pm: Seriously...commentators...if you love Indianapolis so much, why don't you MARRY them???

7:40 pm: I have to say, after all of the promos, if Prince does NOT play "Let's Get Crazy" during his halftime show, I will be SORELY disappointed.

7:44 pm: I'm sure this is just the first of many times this will be said, but I want Brian Urlacher to have my babies.

7:47 pm: I LOVE commercials made in the States for a Canadian audience...A Bud commercial just featured a Bachelor of Fine Arts degree from...The University of Canada. Because ya know, we only have one. Myself, I did my undergrad at the University of the United States, and hope to one day teach at the University of England.

7:51 pm: Aw, Grossman, why you gotta break my heart?

7:54 pm: Seriously, Urlacher, marry me.

7:56 pm: For the love of God, Colts, PLEASE stop trying to kick the ball. You're just embarrassing yourselves.

7:58 pm: It is now halftime, and I am pleased to report that my legs appear to have returned to room temperature.

8:06 pm: Prince appears to be wearing a kerchief, but he IS singing "Let's Get Crazy."

8:08 pm: Seriously...when did Prince turn into Aunt Jemima with a guitar? Oh how I long for the days of the assless pants.

8:10 pm: WHOA. Now he's apparently Ike Turner. Or is he Tina? Seriously, the kerchief is throwing me way off.

8:11 pm: As is the glow-in-the-dark marching band.

8:14 pm: "Purple Rain." Can't believe I didn't see THAT one coming. But that guitar is...interesting. Are you sure that shadow in profile is kosher in a post-Janet Jackson era? Because...wow. Is that a non-gender-specific symbol in your pocket, or are you just glad to see me? Let's just say that made up for you not playing any of your dirty songs. I salute you, Prince, and your..er...guitar.

8:17 pm: Eh...shoulda stuck with the kerchief, Prince Jemima.

8:28 pm: The score really doesn't show it, but my beloved Bears are clearly being outplayed. Grossman may have fewer interceptions than Manning, but it's hard to throw interceptions when you NEVER TOUCH THE DAMNED BALL.

8:33 pm: Seriously, boys, why don't you just curl up in the fetal position and suck your thumbs? It would be just as effective.

8:46 pm: No. I'm sorry. It is not a sack when the quarterback SLIPS AND FALLS ON HIS FACE.

8:47 pm: TWICE.

8:48 pm: Grand & Toy, PLEASE stop trying to take credit for the 1st-down line. That is an AMERICAN innovation, and you, my friend, do not exist south of the border.

9:01 pm: 1ST DOWN!!! WOOHOO!!! Can we say lowered expectations?

9:04 pm: BEAUTIFUL kick, Gould! You are spared the wrath of Beth.

9:20 pm: sonofaBITCH. We finally get a decent run in, and it's called back with a 10-yard penalty.

9:21 pm: Okay, Grand & Toy, where the hell was the fucking first-down line???

9:22 pm: GROSSMAN, YOU SUCK!!!! WHAT THE FUCK WERE YOU THINKING????

9:26 pm: Guys, now would be a good time to remember how to play football. Just a thought.

9:31 pm: OH FOR THE LOVE OF GOD.

9:36 pm: NOW THAT'S HOW YOU SACK LIKE A MAN. Peyton...you've got some grass on your helmet there...

9:58 pm: Well, that's it. Not a bad drive at the end there, boys, but it was far too little, far too late. Once again, it comes down to the fact that the Bears have a great defense, but while you can lose a game with bad defense, you can't win a game without an offense. I have to say, though, if my boys had to lose, I'm glad it was to guys like Tony Dungy and Peyton Manning - they're good guys, and they deserve it. But seriously, Urlacher - call me.

A few parting thoughts:
1. Things I have learned about Canadian men, courtesy of Budweiser, USA: a) they are all talented woodworkers, b) they surf in winter, c) they use their BFA degrees from the University of Canada to become tattoo artists, and d) they all have some form of scruffy facial hair (this one is actually not far off the mark, at least in winter).

2. In the Canadian feed of the game, Primus Telecommunications digitally superimposes a fake blimp onto shots of whatever real blimp is filming the game. First I have to give up the good commercials, do you really have to kick me while I'm down by subjecting me to a blimp in drag???

3. Yes, you read that right. I didn't get ANY of the good commercials this year, because Canadian TV is stupid. Thank God for YouTube.

4. At least my dinner was awesome.

And now I begin the long, cold 6 1/2 months without football...(sniff)....

The Superbowl Shuffle

You're not a true football fan until you've made a beer run on foot when the wind chill is about -30. For those of you back home who think in Fahrenheit, not Celsius, you should know that -30 is about where the two scales coincide. In other words, REALLY FUCKIN' COLD. I expect to regain sensation in my legs in just a few short months. Now, this should help you understand why I will be watching the game by myself at home this evening. I had discussed getting together with a friend of mine, and he had hinted that he might have a wee party at his place or at least go out somewhere to watch it on a big screen. Every time I saw him last week, he said, "what are we doing for the Super Bowl?" To which I replied, "you tell me...it's your shindig." Needless to say, plans were never made, so I went back to my original plan of making chili and having plenty of beer on hand to take my mind off of the fact that the Canadian feed doesn't get any of the good commercials. Now, this morning, I get an IM from said friend, asking if I want to come over - he's putting together a last-minute gathering. I tell him I'm making chili. He says, "want to bring it over?" Now, as much as I enjoy a last-minute invitation to feed you and a bunch of your friends I don't even know, and as much as I look forward to hauling POTS OF HOT CHILI on the bus and subway, I think I'll pass. My official excuse was an abundance of work that needed to be done around the house and the need to plan ahead if I'm going to make an hour-long trip downtown on the weekend - both things that are, in fact, true. However, the real reason I wasn't tempted to go is that CANADIANS DON'T GET FOOTBALL. They were talking about PLAYING POKER DURING THE GAME. Oh, how I wish I was making that up. How would you like it if I invited you to my house to watch hockey and practiced my clogging through the whole damned thing???? You don't NEED to pass the time during a football game - let alone the Super Bowl. This is why coolers were invented - to reduce screen time lost in fetching another beer. Personally, I will be stashing my supply in my ass-cold window - on a day like today, it ensures an ice-cold beer without actually having to turn my back on the tv. This is also why chili is the ultimate football food - the pot can be abandoned on the stove and the food inside only. gets. better. I mean, yeah, any sporting event is better watched with other people, but not if those people don't get HOW VITAL THE EVENT IS TO OUR LIVELIHOOD...OUR NATIONAL SECURITY...NAY, LIFE ITSELF!!! Ahem. I don't normally get this worked up over the Super Bowl, but this year is different...this year is special. I am usually hard-pressed to pick a team to root for - my top teams never make it these days (we won't even mention how long it's been since my beloved Redskins made it to the big game) and while I can usually get behind an underdog or go with NFC loyalty, I can't get all that engaged in the outcome. However, this year, it's a matchup of my #2 and #3 teams - technically, I can be happy whichever way the game goes. I mean, I was raised in an Illinois household that just happened to be located in northern Virginia, but I lived in Indiana for 7 years, during the rise of Peyton Manning and the dawn of the era that shall forever be known as the Definite Lack of Suck Age for the Colts. So I not only have someone to root for, but I am rooting for that holy grail of football: the Really Good Game. And that, my friends, is why I cannot stomach the idea of watching it with a bunch of CANADIANS PLAYING POKER. Although that would make an AWESOME painting to hang in my rumpus room someday. Go Bears!

Now that I've met you, would you object to never seeing each other again?

Do you ever get the feeling that people think they know you, but they really have no idea who you are? I think it's part of the overall Human Experience - if everybody knows exactly who you are when they meet you, then what's the point of all of the interaction, conversation, and assorted fun stuff that comes later? But in my case, it's really been a long-term state of being. There are a precious few people in this world that truly Know me...and I'm starting to get sick of those who think they are part of that group but couldn't be more wrong. Here's a clue - if you've never pissed me off, you don't know me. Because I don't adore people unconditionally - you can screw up, and I will love you, but I will let you know. Now, I'm also passive-agressive as hell - I won't necessarily say that you've screwed up, but you'll know...or at least I like to think that you will. This is one of those things I am still working on in myself as far as how to properly and maturely deal with conflict, but I know that I love someone truly when they can piss me off and I still love them. In fact, as far as I'm concerned, that's the difference between "love" and "like." If I just like you, there's a good chance that if you piss me off, I'm done. It's not worth getting over. But if I love you, you can pretty much piss me off with impunity - I'll let you get away with murder as long as we patch things up after every instance. All I ask of you is the same treatment in return, and we'll be fine. I'm sure I can be infuriating - I've just never had anyone around me that managed to figure out how to call me on it without being a bully about it.

This brings me to a particular observation: I've been told that I am "probably intimdating" when I meet new people. This was an opposite-sex-specific reference, but I tend to think it applies both to relationships and friendships - I've been told for at least a decade by various people I adore that they were intimidated by me when they first met me. This makes no sense to me - I spent most of my life feeling like a painfully shy outcast. When I went to college, I was lucky enough to find a niche, where I felt comfortable and safe. But, every time new people try to join that niche, I'm naturally paranoid that they're going to upset the delicate balance of happy. It doesn't mean that I don't want to make new friends, but I've been screwed over enough times to know that friendship isn't easy - it takes time to trust someone and let them be a real part of your life. I'm not the kind of person who walks into a room full of people and has 5 new best friends - that's just not how I operate. But when I ask what might make me intimidating, the answer was something along the lines of, "well...I don't know...you're all Dr. Beth and stuff..." Okay, look. It's not like my opening line is "Hi, my name is Beth, but you can call me Dr. Miller." I know that when men are listing the qualities they find hot in a woman, a Ph.D. is not high on the list. The fact of the matter is, if people find me scary when they meet me, I guarantee it's because they're scared of the facade I put up to mask my insecurity and shyness. Hands down - no question. Because it's easier to appear aloof than to be judged for who we really are. We all do it to varying degrees - anyone who says differently is selling something. But whatever your impression of me the first time you meet me, I would stake big money big money no whammies STOP that it was a pale shadow of the real me. For better or worse, you. do. not. know. me. So please, stop acting like you do. Believe me, I'll let you know when you're getting close.

Things That Make Canada Funny, eh?

1. The girl on the bus who was drinking chocolate milk out of a carton while furiously studying the back of a package of nail color dilutor. My primary question being this: why didn't she drink the whole carton at once? She closed it, then reopened it a few stops later. Chocolate milk is not something that requires pacing oneself - it is a binge item. It's not like it was a gallon - we're talking a pint carton here, people. Much like nail color...does one really need to dilute it so one doesn't overdo the color ecstasy? Maybe she is just a poster child for moderation - Canadians do seem to believe in it in more ways than one. My other question is, why was it nail color dilutor, not nail coloUr dilutor? This is Canada babe...if you don't like it, take your filthy cosmetics to the States, bitch!

2. On the same bus, I swear I heard (and I am not making this up) the phrase, "I SO want to be a gym teacher." Dude. Nobody WANTS to be a gym teacher. They WANT to coach, they WANT to have an excuse to work out all day, but they don't WANT to make an obese 15-year-old run a 5K.

3. Some random guy on the same bus who was TOTALLY eavesdropping on the same conversation I was. But dude. You're wearing snowpants with honest to God PATCHES on the knees. You have no room to judge.

4. Friday Night After Dark on Showcase. Showcase is sort of like a weird hybrid between HBO and Showtime, but on basic cable. Starting around 10:30 on a Friday night, they begin airing what I call PornTV - a block of adult-industry-based reality tv programming, usually followed by a soft-core porn flick. Now, my question for you, loyal readers (all...what...5 of you?), is this: does it make me a bad person if I not only watch these programs, but am astute enough to catch the crossover appearances by certain performers? I mean, not only did I manage to notice that Dugmor (from Webdreams) appeared on Sin Cities (and get excited about it...like when I was watching Mean Girls and recognized Convo Hall), but during a segment I recognized Malezia's cornrows and said, "hey...she's been signed as a Vivid girl, so now she could even appear on Porno Valley!" That's three degrees of porn separation, folks. Yeah, I'm SUCH a loser.

MonochroMe

Welcome to my first (and quite possibly last) self-portrait. I realized today that I had managed to completely dress myself in shades of black and grey, from head to toe. It wasn't intentional, and may have only stemmed from a desire to wear my new black snow boots to work today, but it wound up fitting my mood. I've been feeling very...blah today. Still a little sick, unmotivated, tired. But as I walked home from the bus stop and watched my little black feet against the fresh white snow that was falling around me, I was reminded that while I am a colorful person, sometimes there's nothing more beautiful than the simplicity of black and white. So I'm ending my blah day just a little bit tongue-in-cheek. ;)

The G-Bomb

Men of the world, I have a bone to pick with you. If you meet a woman, and you're chatting with her, enjoying her company, enjoying a little mild, harmless flirtation...just how long do you wait before you drop the G-bomb? It's easy to do...you're talking about your daily life, a movie you've seen, a tv show you like to watch...there are plenty of natural opportunities to drop an offhand mention of "my girlfriend..." Yet for some reason, you avoid it at all costs. Now, I get that it's fun to talk to someone, flirt with them, and it's more fun if the person whose conversation you're enjoying thinks you're single. Or maybe you feel it's not this new person's business what your relationship status is. Now, I'm not saying that every conversation should begin with "I HAVE A GIRLFRIEND!!!!" Easy dude...I just offered to push an elevator button for you. But on behalf of the single girls in the world, I think it's safe to say that we appreciate the subtle drop. We won't stop talking to you, or flirting with you (within reasonable limits), but while it sucks finding out this guy you're vibing with is already taken, it sucks more wondering why the guy you were vibing with all night has no interest in getting your number. Dating at a certain age is exhausting and frustrating enough already, without having to waste your energy feeling out someone who is already spoken for. If the best I can hope for out of you is a new friendship, I'd like to know that up front. I'm always glad to make a new friend, but when you're meeting someone new and trying to figure out how to connect with them, there's no point in keeping your options open if you don't actually have any. Women are constantly accused of playing games, but you guys play them too. I just want to know what I'm up against - I don't want to mess with your head, and I don't appreciate you messing with mine.

So you had a good day...

Daniel Powter can kiss my ass, because I've had a good day. No, a GREAT day. It started off slow - the alarm goes off after a too-short period of unconsciousness, as has become my modus operandi these days. But hey, it's worth it if the reason you were up so late was a good conversation with a relatively new but good friend, right? So I take my time getting ready, because today is sort of a significant one - I'm finishing up my first of two units I'm teaching, which means I'm going to have a couple of weeks off to do research work...I'm getting paid for the first time since my teaching salary kicked in...I have plans to go out for a drink after work...all in all, it's a good day to look cute. So I eventually get to work...get ready for class...visit the friend who not only kept me up late last night but is going out with me after work because he's just that cool. I give my lecture, and this is where it gets good: as I'm wrapping things up for the day, I say, "Well, that's all I have for today. Enjoy kinetics, and I'll see you in a couple of weeks." That's when it happens. A round of applause. Now, I feel the need to stop and take a moment here to convey just what that means to me. The U of T reminds me a great deal of UVa, where I did my undergrad. They both seem to have similar reputations, and take themselves quite seriously in terms of the quality of education they provide (some would say TOO seriously, but that's an entry for another day). Now, when I was in undergrad, there would always be discussion during the last week of class about which professors you thought would get applause on the last day. It certainly wasn't a given - it was reserved for those professors you really appreciated, the ones whose lectures you didn't want to skip. The legendary ones, or the less celebrated but no less enjoyable lecturers...those were the ones you applauded for. I mean, you fill out evaluations of your professors, you let them know you like them, but it takes a special extra effort to show your appreciation to their face (and, I feel the need to add, that face is, in my memory, ALWAYS that of a man - chew on that for a bit). This is the first big lecture class I've ever taught - to be honest, the prospect scared me shitless just 3 weeks ago. So I've considered it a victory every time I teach a class where I feel like the students are engaged, and listening to me not because they have nowhere else to be but because they WANT to. I'm thrilled when they actually laugh at my stupid chemistry jokes - I never in a million years thought I would be able to win them over enough to actually applaud me. And when it comes down to it, I may have a very long and brilliant career as a professor ahead of me, and I may be applauded many times, but this will always be the first one. And I can't imagine it will get better.

So at this point, I'm on a full-on teaching high. It's like I'm freebasing education, baby - it's a good feeling. So what do I do? I go back to my office and gloat to anyone that will listen. Luckily, my friends are very understanding and quite happy for me - they get that this is a big deal, or at the very least are quite experienced at humoring me at this point. So I manage to get very little done for the rest of the day, because I'm flitting around patting myself on the back and having self-satisfied nerdgasms all over the place, until the end of the day when the aforementioned after-work drink plans kick in. Just having plans after work on a Friday is a happy thing - especially when you're in the mood to celebrate and you've got good company lined up. I meet up with a friend/coworker that I've been talking to a lot lately and figuring out is a pretty freaking cool (read: very similar to me in many ways) person. We go out for a couple of beers and some spicy appetizers, and lots of good conversation. People I've met here seem to be under the impression that I am this outgoing person who can carry on a conversation with anyone about anything...the sort of person that somehow draws attention in a group. That's really not me at all when it comes down to it - I mean, I am that person around my research group, but that's because they're all too quiet and nice for their own damned good - SOMEONE has to shake things up a bit. Beneath the surface, I'm really a one-on-one person. I cherish the time I get to spend alone with a good friend, and always prefer hanging out with one or two other people to an entire roomful. And I haven't really gotten close enough to many people here yet to warrant that sort of intimate interaction. So getting to go out and sit across a table from someone you enjoy talking to is a rare treat for me, especially when you're still in that stage of friendship where every question leads to a new revelation about that person. And it doesn't hurt matters that he's a cute guy, and incredibly sweet, and already a dear friend. There are worse things you could be batting your eyes at across a plate of hot wings, my friend. During the entire time we were hanging out, a lovely light blanket of snow was falling - my first Toronto snow that wasn't an icy, slushy mess. And as I walked home through the freshly fallen, sparkling snow, all I could think was what a lovely package it all made, and what a thoroughly nice day it had been - I really couldn't ask for much more.

I am disappointed in myself.

Having just scrolled through some of my previous posts, I come to the realization that as a general rule, this blog has been far more earnest and far less sarcastic and bitter than I promised to be when I began writing it. I promise to do what I can to correct this egregious error in the future, although I will not be held responsible for the fact that frankly, I'm pretty satisfied with my lot in life at the moment, which really does take the piss 'n vinegar quotient down a notch. But I'll see what I can do.

My World Tour

So I haven't really blogged about this yet, because there's so much to say and my time is in high demand these days, but for the last 2 1/2 weeks or so I've been teaching for the first time as a lecturer in a Big Time University (TM). In this case, the BTU (TM) in question is the University of Toronto, and the course I'm teaching is CHM 139 - good ol' general chemistry, physical principles. Now, for some background, my previous teaching experience consists of a wide variety of TA gigs while I was in grad school (everything from 1st-year gen chem to 4th-year analytical chem to grad-level classes) and one summer teaching a class of 10 students at a community college back home in Virginia. So I'm a little green, but the guy who hires the sessional lecturers at the U of T actually decided in a moment of questionable judgement to entrust the minds of 900 first-years to yours truly. Now, let's be honest - those who want to learn the material will do so, regardless of who stands in front of them for 3 hours a week. And those who don't want to be there or aren't capable of grasping the material never will, regardless of who stands in front of them for 3 hours a week. But there are a number of precious souls in the middle - those who have to take the class for some reason or another...for whom the material doesn't come naturally but who need to learn it or are forced to try...these are the people that those of us who are passionate about teaching try to reach. We don't have delusions about making them fall in love with our discipline - we merely aim to make the process as entertaining as possible. If you make the class fun, maybe they'll remember it fondly instead of as "that awful class in which I almost died of confusion and/or boredom." It is because of these people that it is advantageous and/or dangerous to hire people like me. I am, when it comes down to it, an entertainer. Or at least I try to be. And I have to say, a great deal of my passion for teaching comes from a truly selfish place. The idea of a few hundred students, crammed into an auditorium, with nothing to do but LISTEN TO ME TALK is like peanut butter in a mousetrap - a tidbit I cannot resist. I can now officially say that there is no better feeling for me than when a class of 250+ students falls silent to listen to what I have to say. Wait...scratch that...it's even better when they laugh at my jokes and lame analogies...THEN fall silent to hear the explanation of the principle that I'm joking about. I know I'm having a good day when they don't just politely titter at some lame attempt at humor - they LAUGH at me. And students don't think we know this, but we can tell the difference between when they are laughing at your joke and when they are laughing because they know you think you're being cute and they're doing it to suck up. I always know that I am comfortable and in my element when I can make off-the-cuff jokes that are actually funny - most people only THINK they are more clever and witty when they drink, but for me it's actually true because I am a very clever and witty person, but only when I let my guard down. And that HAPPENS in my class...no alcoholic beverages necessary. Screw Disney - as far as I'm concerned, being in the middle of a good lecture is the happiest place on earth.

One

I'm not the kind of girl who goes around bemoaning my singlehood, claiming that my life would be perfect if only I had a guy to share it with. I don't need a man to validate me, and I enjoy my solitude and my independence. But I also couldn't be farther from the man-hating feminist type. I don't NEED a guy to share in my good fortune, but I've never found a good thing that wasn't better when shared with someone. Experiences, hobbies... food, drink...successes and failures... kit kat bars... these are all things that are more significant when you share them with someone special. And to be perfectly honest, over the last few weeks, I've been feeling that void. I'm happy with my life, my job, my family and friends - I couldn't ask for anything better in any of those areas right now. But the fact of the matter is, they'd all be enriched if I had someone to share them with.

Oh, let's just go ahead and say it... I'm lonely. This has become more and more evident over the last few weeks, and that feeling was compounded sometime this week when I realized it's been nearly a year since my last relationship ended. Now, I've been single for good reason since then - finishing a Ph.D., moving back home with your parents, and moving (to not just a different town, but a different COUNTRY) are not terribly conducive to a hot romantic life. But that doesn't change the fact that some days, you just want to come home to a warm hug and a kiss on the forehead. And they say the first step to finding someone is figuring out what you want. So without further ado, I present What I Want:

1) I want to meet a guy, feel an attraction, and be asked out... to be pursued. I don't want to have to do all the work. I am tired of always being the one with the balls to turn a good friendship into something better. Feeling like you're bullying a guy into dating you is hard on the ego.

2) I want to be taken out on a real date, where he tries his best to come up with somewhere to take me that I will like to go. He doesn't have to actually be right, just make the effort. And it's certainly not about money - I have more appreciation for a guy who can take me out for a really good cheap date than for one who can spend a lot of money for an evening that is just fine.

3) I want to be kissed. I want a guy to slide his arm around my waist, pull me close, and kiss me because he can't stand to look at me and not kiss me anymore. I don't want to be asked if he can kiss me. I don't want an awkward, timid kiss. I want to be kissed by someone who knows what they're doing.

4) I want him to look into my eyes, and make me never want to look away.

5) I want to be with someone who is available - to know that the future is available to me. I am tired of telling people about my new relationship, "It's not going to go anywhere, but at least it makes for good companionship." Companionship is nice, but it's not enough. I don't want to spend any more time curled up in blind alleys - I someone to help me out of the maze.

6) I want to share my passions and my priorities. I want to be with someone who wants the same things out of life that I do - who is passionate and willing to learn... who is open to my interests and desires, and who will challenge me to appreciate the loves of their life.

7) I want to say, "I love you." And I want to hear it back. Without reservation or qualification.

So yeah, that's what I want. No wonder I'm still single. And lonely.

The apocalypse most certainly is nigh.

First Lionel Richie sings Brick House on the Today show (seriously, Lionel...are you trying to kill me???), then my coffee pot explodes. Seriously - tiny shards of silvered glass ALL OVER my kitchen. 2007 is seriously fucked up thus far.

Why is Lionel Richie singing Brick House????

I mean...SERIOUSLY.

Yeah...2006 is SO last year...

Recently, my dad posed the question, "Why is New Year's such a big deal?" He wasn't referring to the parties, or the frantic need to find someone to kiss at midnight, he was referring to the nearly universal need to celebrate that comes over the world at this time of year. Think about it - a great variety of cultures, for reasons secular or divine, have some sort of celebration when the calendar resets. There's something about a new year that seems to require some sort of observance beyond having to exercise extra caution when writing checks. It's a natural time to take stock of your life, make a note of what you want to change, and do something about it. It occurred to me tonight that the number 2007 feels odd. Every new date seems to, but there was something about this one that I couldn't put my finger on. Maybe it has something to do with the fact that five years ago, 2002, I rang in the year that has gone down in history as the most difficult year in my life thus far. Now, I have some perspective - just because a particular year was the worst one I've had in my short life doesn't mean it was as bad as it can get, and I'm grateful to not know how bad bad can be. But if I have a lucky number, it's the number 5, and I'd like to think that 2006 closed the 5-year cycle that began in 2002. And it did an excellent job - it started off rough, but gave me a Ph.D., my first real teaching experience and some quality time with my family, a great new job in a fantastic new town, and ended with one of the nicest Christmases in recent memory. So I'm raising a glass to 2007, in the hopes that a new cycle will begin. One in which every year is the BEST year of my short life. Foolishly optimistic? I'm sure. But what can I say? I'm a hopeless romantic.

The love of my life?

Okay, so we've been dancing around this for too long. It's time we admit to ourselves what we're doing. I've flirted with you for I don't even know how long. I think I've always been more fond of you than I was quite willing to admit. But it's time to lay it all out on the table...shout it from the rooftops. I am deeply in love with...sauce. It really doesn't matter the type: sweet or savory...Asian or French...sauces freaking rule. I am convinced I love French food, even though I haven't sampled much of it, because it almost always involves sauce. Usually a sauce that involves butter and/or cream, but milkfat is a love affair for another day. For a long time I just wrote sauce off as goo...something there solely to disguise badly made food. But I have come to the realization that I do so LOVE goo... red wine and herb, brandy peppercorn, soy...followed by caramel, chocolate, or fruit goo for dessert. One day I'm going to open a restaurant and just call it Sauce. Or maybe Goo. I need to think this over. But let it be known, Sauce (or Goo, as only your most intimate friends call you), from this day forward, that I love you. More even than Carbs. (But don't even get me started on the Carb/Sauce three-way....Poutine, I'm looking at you....)

Surrealism Defined

Your devout Muslim labmate taking out his prayer rug and doing his daily prayers in the lab while Eminem sings "Lose Yourself" on the radio. Surreal... yet not entirely inappropriate...