Archive for the 'Life' Category


overheard in d.c.: ‘well, whatever’

Overheard this morning in line at CVS, 15th and K:

Girl (to disinterested boyfriend): Look at this Cosmo. Look at Demi Moore. She’s gross. She looks younger than I do and she’s like 50. Isn’t that disgusting?jennifer-connelly

Boyfriend: That’s Jennifer Connelly.

Girl: No, it’s not.

Boyfriend: It says it right there — Jennifer Connelly.

Girl. Well, whatever. Demi Moore is still gross. *giggle* What would you do without me?

Boyfriend (under his breath as she walks down the aisle to check something else out): Where do I start?


part of a nutritious lunch


What the crap, Jacque? Really? HoHos? There’s a Subway literally 30 feet out your front door, yet you wander to your office vending machine and plunk out 70 cents for partially hydrogenated oil? Mmm. Trans fat. I really am throwing all caution to the wind in the face of turning 30! Tomorrow: An entire pound of bacon.


hangin’ around this town

Here’s a video that has nothing to do with anything other than this song came up on my iPod the other day while I was on the Metro headed into work and it occurred to me I probably hadn’t seen the video since, well, the last time they showed videos consistently on MTV.

My friend Dan told me the other day that he still checks my blog out every day and every day lately, he’s been disappointed. And then my sister mentioned that I never update it anymore. I couldn’t tell you how many people still even bother checking in regularly. That’s the thing I’ve noticed about blogs … they ebb and flow. They’re like a comfortable sweater that you can leave in a drawer and pull it out when you need one. It doesn’t care if it’s been an hour, or six weeks, since the last time you put it on. I just wants to be taken around the block every so often.

I haven’t been to West Virginia since Christmas. I haven’t done a radio show since the week before Christmas. I don’t know the next time either will happen. I miss both.

My problem with the show is I just haven’t felt it in a while. I start thinking about wanting to do it, I get myself ready and then I think, “Well, I could do some laundry, or reading, or catch up with some people on the phone, etc.”

It’s 8 to 10 p.m. on a Sunday night because that’s the time I got myself into in its earlier incarnations. Then once we owned the stream, though we could have made it any time we wanted to, it stayed from 8 to 10. And then the NFL came.

It needs tweaking, to borrow one of my favorite phrases from a friend of mine. It needs some definite tweaking. I would rather work on my writing and develop ideas than put on a show that’s half-baked and forced, and I’m afraid I’d be doing that now. At least I’m honest enough with myself to say it out loud.

I’m thankful that I’ve had some time to actually spend here in DC without anything hanging over my head lately. For the Super Bowl, I spent it with a friend of mine and his wife and son. Yesterday, I had a GREAT time at the Auto Show with the gang from Richmond (area). I’ve been to a Georgetown-WVU game. I’m having lunch with two different people in two weeks and meeting an old friend for a Happy Hour hopefully next Friday.

It isn’t that I don’t want to go home. I miss my family terribly. But I felt the entire summer that I didn’t live in Washington. I stayed here five days a week and then got in the car to visit my sick father. I’m not complaining. Every single week I saw him and he got better was the highlight of my week. But that came at the expense of not knowing anything about where I live.

There’s a super Target three miles from my house. I didn’t know that until I went to the doctor last week and had an occasion to actually go down that road. I’ve never been to a Five Guys, but there’s one about 10 minutes away. I actually went to IKEA.

Maybe I’m introspective because I’m about 33 hours and 51 minutes away from turning 30, but who’s counting. My mother told me this morning it was a great milestone, and I told her it didn’t feel like one. Not so much because I’m dreading getting older — I’m already an octogenarian in a much younger body — but because I really feel like I’ve accomplished, at least professionally, what I’d hoped by the time I hit this age.

I’m in a major city. I’m working for a major newspaper. I’m actually an editor.

I’m still employed. I don’t feel like I’m at risk of not being employed. That’s more than a lot of people can say in these times.

So as I see the sun pour in here through the open windows, I’m starting to feel a little bit settled down. Months and months have passed without me feeling like I could actually breathe, and I’m finally there. Like it (most of the time) or not (only in heavy traffic), I live here. I still smile when I get off the train in the morning and look around at the buildings. I’m not disenchanted. Or hardened. I still find something new to appreciate every day.

Uh oh. Pollyanna’s arrived. I must be closing in on 30.

And speaking of that, if someone wants to get me a Snuggie, it won’t replace the electric blanket that Paige got me, but I’d love to wear it around my office.


dear south charleston blockbuster


Hello. It’s been a long, long time since we’ve seen each other, but you know how that goes. Turns out I got a job offer far away from the friendly confines of Kanawha County and I haven’t had any reason to come see you. I know, I was a really good customer. I rented a ton of stuff from you during the cold winter. But then spring arrived, I moved and I knew our relationship couldn’t continue. Rather than just break things off with you, I abandoned you. I figured you’d just go away quietly.

But like any bad relationship I’ve had, you don’t go away quietly. Sure, you go away. You even disappear. But then you rear your ugly head once more.

After all of our years together, I’m stunned to find out you don’t even know me at all. For you to accuse me of trying to hold on to a copy of ANY movie starring Katherine Heigl tells me you never listened to a word I said. And what’s even worse was you never even called me to accuse me. You had a cold, emotionless nasty gram sent to me asking for your DVD back.

Well, Blockbuster, I’m here to tell you … I don’t have your stupid DVD. I don’t know who has your stupid DVD. It’s someone who obviously thinks a night well spent involves vapid chick movies.

Now, before you call me out on my rentals of all three Amy Fisher movies, just know I’ve never rented a movie that involves Meredity Baxter Birney or the phrase “Not Without My Daughter.” Just because I spend lazy Saturdays watching Lifetime Movie Network doesn’t mean I’d ever have the desire to pay for a new release.

Again, it’s like I said — It’s like you never knew me at all.

So, understand that demanding the return of something I don’t have will get you nowhere. In fact, you should be thanking me for preventing someone else from having to watch that movie. But you won’t thank me. You never did.

I miss you, but only when there’s nothing on TV. I know I have one of you just down the street, but it won’t ever be the same. Nothing compares 2 u.

Love (but tinged with hate),



life is a rock, but the rick rolled me


I’d say by now, everybody knows what itΒ  means to get Rickrolled.

In case you don’t, Wikipedia sums it up with more information than you’d ever need.

This morning, I sort of rickrolled myself. It wasn’t bad enough that I sort of rickrolled myself, but I actually took the extra effort to play the song again on my iPod.

I’m not sure when I put that on the iPod, but I remember exactly when I downloaded that song — it was at my old job and I did it in one of my “this would make a great theme song for” moments. I also will sheepishly admit that I didn’t mind having the song on my iPod. There’s something just whimsical and fun and a special feeling you get when you hear Rick Astley’s soulful voice tell you he’s never going to let you down. It’s like you can almost believe it. So far, it’s true. I can’t think of a single time Rick Astley’s ever let me down.

I have a friend who observed that everybody on public transportation looks defeated. I wanted to believe this wasn’t true, but after nearly eight months of daily exposure to public transportation, I can’t dispute his observation. At 8:30 in the morning, every single one of us getting on the train at Greenbelt have that same “back to the grind, please shoot me” kind of face. If you see someone without that face, they’re a tourist who came to Greenbelt for the ample parking. Or they’re new at their job downtown. I was that face of shining optimism once.


I didn’t use my iPod for a while after I moved to DC because I didn’t have a charger and I lacked the drive to ask my co-workers if they had one. Finally, when I could stand no more conversations about anybody owing any other aggrieved party child support for any number of children, I dusted it off. I brought in my external hard drive, loaded it into my work computer and found an iPod charger from a co-worker. I have about 1,000 songs on the iPod and I just hit random when I get on the train and let it go.

It started out normally enough with some Collective Soul, followed by Rolling Stones, some Pearl Jam, a song by a band I love from Arizona called Radiofix. I figured pound for pound, it was a better music day than I’d had in a while. I had a seat to myself until Georgia Avenue-Petworth when an ill-tempered looking girl who glared at me with that “I hate you for being alive” face sat beside me with a heavy sigh. When she sat down, I was deep in a Dave Matthews Band zone thinking about the lyrics of “The Best of What’s Around.” But that’s neither here nor there.

Less than 10 minutes later, I heard the sweet beginnings of “Never Gonna Give You Up” and laughed. I didn’t intend to actually laugh out loud, but it happened, and “I hate you for being alive” girl looked at me with such harsh judgment I was tempted to turn it down. I’m sure that on a quiet, inbound train, she could hear that it was Rick Astley. It was written all over her “I hate you for being alive” face.

But I didn’t let her shame me into turning it down. And when the song ended 3:36 seconds later, I proudly hit the back arrow to play it AGAIN. No, “I hate you for being alive” face girl. You’re not going to get inbetween me and my unintentional quasi rickroll. I was going to enjoy every sweet Astley moment whether you judged me or not.

But then the train ride’s over. And you come out of McPherson Square to see traffic backed up on both I Street and K Street and realize what’s coming. And you need some Rick Astley to make it better again.


there’s need to fear


Last night, I sat on my couch and watched Brandon in seven levels of hell as the No. 1 Tennessee Titans derailed and let the Cleveland Browns Baltimore Ravens take away their shot at an AFC championship.

Fortunately, I still have all of my teeth.

But then, Carolina went down like a sack of wet cement. And today? Wow. Sorry ’bout your luck, Giants fans. Geez.

And now, I’m stting here watching Pittsburgh mount a second-quarter comeback after being down 10-7 on San Diego.

It’s like life got inverted and any normal semblance of NFL playoffs went out the window. It’s almost like a real-life, NFL version of “Vote for the Worst.” It’s like we’re trying to get Sanjaya into the Super Bowl in a match for total dominance against Taylor Hicks.

Someone just needs to get me Chris Daughtry. Immediately.

(Note: It’s 14-10 Pittsburgh now. Much to my happiness. Much to Brandon’s dismay.)

So, I hadn’t really forgotten about the blog, but to say that I’ve been busy is a bit of an understatement. I spent the week before Christmas trying to compact about six days worth of work into two to meet the printing schedules of our other papers. I spent a great, great five days at home, and while I didn’t get the chance to see everybody I wanted to see, it was still nice to be in West Virginia and among people that truly make you feel like no matter where you roam, you have an anchor.

Once I got back from the Christmas visit, we jumped into our New Year’s printing schedule, and then before I knew it, it was almost time for the Obamathon. Wall-to-wall from Wednesday through the big day. I got home at 9 p.m. almost every night last week, and that’s after spending all day compiling things, looking for events, etc.

I have a weekly column now which rocks my face off. I’m so happy to have the chance to actually have a space, every week, for me to write. I’m a dork, but I get excited on Thursday mornings when I see people reading it on the train.

But it wasn’t until I got an e-mail from a good friend of mine last week (a good friend in spite of some pretty whacked out turbulence around the edges), asking me if the Girl of Words had run out of words.

I truly haven’t. I just haven’t had the time to actually stop what I was doing at work to spend 15 minutes or so updating. And I post links to Facebook sometimes whichs gets a discussion going, but it doesn’t replace this. It really doesn’t. I never think people care much about what I’m thinking until someone actually stops to ask.

So, there’s not going to be a show tonight. There’s not going to be a show until after the Super Bowl. In addition to being a little bit burned out, I realize that with the season premiere of “24” tonight and NFL playoffs, I can’t, and don’t really want to, compete. I want to enjoy “24” and the Super Bowl.

So, I’m thinking we’ll be back Feb. 8, which is three days before I turn 30. Woof. Three days before I turn 30. Man.

And maybe I should, at any rate, make time to blog more because it’s great, cheap therapy. I’ve also seen some things floating around town in the last couple of weeks that truly would have made great entries.

But I hope all of you that are still checking in are doing well … I do read your blogs, I think about you often. You’re alright in my book. πŸ™‚


a small break


I thought I’d take a minute to throw a post on my sad, abandoned blog before I finished the second half of my day before starting on the first half of tomorrow and trying to get next week done early … Yes. All of that.

I’ve been so busy lately. I felt a little overwhelmed with it yesterday and this morning, in an e-mail to a friend, I said I was worried I was reaching the early stages of burnout. I just have to forge ahead. I’ll be up for air sometime after the Inauguration.

I’m busting my ass now so I can spend a few days at home with the family. I’m so happy to be going home for a few days. I need the break. I need the time out from DC. I love it here. I really, really love it here. But I think everybody needs an escape.

But for this afternoon, I’ve got two full seasons of “Kitchen Nightmares” on Fancast. Something about Gordon Ramsay dropping the F-bomb (bleeped out, of course) is soothing to me. I finished my column, so now it’s just editing. And lunch. I could really use some lunch.

Sadly, it seems I’ve got more time to post a link on Facebook than I do blog these days. I hope I can fix that soon, because I’d miss this. And Facebook just isn’t a suitable replacement.

But, what’s on your Christmas list this year? I’m delaying the end of my shopping (I’m even trying to go to the inaugural EagleBank Bowl to accomplish this!!) so I’m open to ideas. πŸ™‚

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July 2018
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